Daily Mail - 17.08.2019

Daily Mail, Saturday, August 17, 2019 Page 45

Raging seas: Trying to sail with a tiny storm jib. Inset, a

Navy helicopter comes to the aid of a stricken Fastnet yacht

remaining crewmates to be dead

or fatally incapacitated. One of

two, Gerry Winks, would indeed

die that night.

But his young crewmate Nick

Ward, an epileptic, would survive,

spending hours in the exposed

open cockpit of the helpless,

dismasted boat with a dead friend

as his sole companion, as the night-

marish storm raged throughout

the night and into the next day.

The trimaran Bucks Fizz, follow-

ing the race for fun, would be lost

with all hands — four people. Morn-

ing Cloud, owned and skippered by

former Prime Minister Ted Heath,

also suffered a knock-down but

survived to complete the race.

Trophy was weathering the storm,

until fortune intervened: a red

distress flare fired from

the nearby dismasted

yacht Salamander. ‘If we

had carried on sailing, I think we

would have been fine and reached

the Fastnet,’ says Morland. ‘But

then we saw the flare — that was

when our problems started.’

Approaching the stricken boat,

Trophy asked if anyone had been

swept overboard. The answer was

negative. Bartlett and his crew

struck sail and used the engine to

stand by the stricken yacht.

‘I’m not sure, when I think about

it, what we thought we could do,

aside from offering moral support,’

says Morland.

‘But equally, if a red flare goes up

you can’t ignore it — even though

a lot of boats did ignore them

because there was nothing they

could do. And they were right.’

Now stationary, Trophy was

herself vulnerable. A huge wave

loomed out of the night and struck

her on the bow, sending her plum-

meting backwards into a trough

and breaking the rudder. Another

monster soon followed. Bartlett,

hooked on, was thrown into the

sea as the yacht turned turtle.

Derek Morland, snatching sleep

below, awoke to a world turned

upside down. When the yacht

righted, he went on deck to find

his skipper hanging from the side.

As he and some crew members

helped get Bartlett back on board,

others decided to take to the

tethered life raft, which had been

ejected and inflated by the impact

of the wave.

The boat had the rig over the

side; it was hitting the hull. And

now the life raft had deployed, it

was a case of use it or lose it.

Morland and his crewmates

clambered into the raft. It was, he

says with the benefit of hindsight,

a ‘dumb’ decision — Trophy would

survive to be salvaged.

Experience shows that taking to

a life raft is advisable only when

the parent boat is in imminent

danger of sinking — the ‘boat is

the best lifeboat’ as the saying

goes. So it was that the crew of the

Trophy came to be in the raft as it

tore in two.

Peter Everson and John Puxley

were the first to die, swept away as

the raft disintegrated. Robin

Bowyer would die later of hypo-

thermia, his body lashed to the

damaged raft. Simon Fleming was

holding on to the other half of the

raft and disappeared into the

night when it finally tore away

completely. Amazingly, he would

survive, plucked from the sea by a

Royal Navy Sea King.

Early on Tuesday morning, as

red distress flares dotted the

skies above the stricken fleet

and Mayday calls clogged the

airwaves, a huge air-sea rescue

swung into operation.

R

OyAl Navy and RAF

Sea King, Wessex and

lynx helicopter crews

were scrambled at first

light, joined by Nimrod maritime

patrol aircraft roaring down from

Scotland. British, Irish and Dutch

warships converged on the scene

with civilian vessels as 14 lifeboats

launched from RNlI stations in

Ireland and Cornwall. Some 4,000

people participated in the effort.

The helicopters strained fuel

reserves to the limit as they

scoured the ocean, remaining aloft

for as long as four hours at a time.

Winchmen performed hair-raising

feats as they plucked victims from

life rafts and stricken boats strewn

with collapsed rigging that could

snag their lines. Some 140 people

were rescued by helicopters and

other vessels.

Salvation for Derek Morland and

the three remaining survivors

appeared in the form of a low-

flying RAF Nimrod patrol aircraft.

The same Sea King that

saved Fleming hoisted

Bartlett on board but,

critically short of fuel,

had to depart. Derek

and his companions

were soon rescued,

however, by the Dutch

destroyer HNlMS

Overijssel, taking part in

the biggest rescue

operation in British

waters in peacetime.

Returning to land,

Derek visited John

Puxley’s widow Sylvia

and her two children.

‘Her daughter came up

to me and said: “When is

daddy coming home?” I

didn’t know what to say. It

was terrible.’

Forty years on, at the age

of 64, Derek Morland still

sails, in the Solent at

weekends. His wife, whom

he met shortly after the

disaster, sails with him;

his younger son is also a

keen sailor.

Many lessons were learned

in the wake of the Fastnet

disaster. Equipment and

training got better and, over

time, communications,

navigation aids and satellite

weather monitoring have improved

out of all recognition. But the

sea can still be cruel, when the

mood takes it.

‘I never dream about it — that

night — but it’s always with me,’

says Derek Morland. ‘Simon

Fleming sent me a text this week:

“Forty years ago today”.

In the grounds of Holy Trinity

Church, Cowes, stands a memorial

to the dead of that terrible storm.

In front of it stand stones hewn

from the Fastnet Rock, the desti-

nation so many never reached.

HELL &

WATER

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Inset picture: GETTY IMAGES