“We lost the propeller” was the phrase that began an incredible adventure in the middle of the Atlantic, with the ship disabled, the captain on alert, and the weather playing its own game.
By Giorgis Maratos
It was a little afternoon and I was playing backgammon in the officers’ mess with Sub-Lieutenant Kuridis. He was a strong player and I liked that he didn’t do me favors and didn’t let me win because I was the captain. But to tell the truth, he was also a dice-cheater.
So this time too, when it was obvious that he would win the game, he takes the dice, caresses them, shakes them thoroughly in his fist, rattles them in the backgammon board and…… then the big BAM! was heard.
Before Kuridis could celebrate his double sixes and I could properly curse, a deafening roar was heard as if we had been torpedoed. The engine screamed as if it had taken thousands of revolutions and immediately after came absolute silence. It was as if the ship had died. Everything lasted less than a second. Before I could even properly recover, I jumped up and went out on deck and together with the others, I hung onto the gunwale and looked at the hull from both sides. Nothing. What was that? Did we collide? We looked all around the horizon. Nothing. Neither land nor ship.
In two strides I went up to the bridge where the quartermaster on duty was talking on the phone to the engine room and showed me the tachometer stuck at zero.
“We lost the propeller!”
That was it. The shaft had broken and the ship had been left disabled in the middle of the ocean about 500 miles north of Puerto Rico. I immediately called the Chief Engineer on the phone, who had rushed down to the engine room to see what was happening, and he confirmed it to me.
“We have definitely lost the propeller, because when I tried to put the engine ahead again, it was revving like crazy and had no resistance at all.”
The ship was unloaded and although I had no doubt, I said and they threw a pilot ladder over the stern. I wanted to see with my own eyes. I climbed onto the gunwale, held onto the ropes, went down a few steps, bent over and looked, and ascertained that…….short. The propeller had grown wings
And now?
Everyone turned their gaze to me.
“Hoist three black balls of the disabled vessel at the masthead and prepare the red lights for the night. Watches continue as normal.”
Fortunately the weather was good. A very light breeze was blowing. It was April and the Atlantic had its usual light chop. The CAPTAIN YIANNIS slowly came up into the wind and began to rock as if it intended to lull us to sleep.
I went to my office and tried to put in order what I should and should not do. First, to prepare a telegram to send the news to London, to the owners, and to ask for instructions. Then, not to send an SOS, because for the moment there was no danger. And finally, to make the relevant preparations for the tow by the vessel that would come to rescue us.
I take a pencil and paper and write the telegram in code, because with the wireless nothing remains hidden. No one should learn about it before the owners. The money for the salvage was a lot and, before any move, London had to do the relevant haggling and of course notify the Insurance.
“PERI ORAN 1800 EVRISKOMENI PLATOS 28. 10N MIKOS 66.20W APOLESAME ELIKA .PLION AKIVERNITON.
PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE FURTHER ACTIONS.PLIARHOS
I called the radio operator and told him to send it immediately so he wouldn’t start small talk with the surrounding ships about the matter, although I knew that all the surrounding ships would pick up the telegram and it would become the talk of the town.
Meanwhile I read in Lloyds Calendar, “the gospel for many captains,” what happens in these cases and I called the purser and the boatswain to draw up the plan.
Towing, the book says, is not done with a hawser or with a wire or even with a cable. It is done only with the anchor chain. Indeed, my dear friends, with the anchor chain! So we had to clear away and secure one of the two anchors to the bow bulwark, unlock the first shackle and then prepare the chain for the one who would tow us. This story might seem simple within these 5 lines but in reality it took us a whole day. We also prepared the lines we would throw for the tug to catch. First the lightest, the heaving line, then a two-inch rope, then a wire and finally the chain.
Around midnight, a reply came from London.
“AVOID ANY CONTACT WITH TUGS STOP TOMORROW CAPTAIN KOSTIS WILL TOW YOU TO JACKSONVILLE STOP COMMUNICATE COORDINATE DETAILS”
One might have expected some wish, some sweet word of comfort, but such sentimentalities don’t exist in this business. So that no one else would get the salvage money, they arranged for a ship of the company that was nearby to tow us. Their decision was correct, they would also get something out of this story and after all, we had no say in the matter, we had no choice.
The next day in the morning when the radio operator came on watch, the wireless was buzzing like a beehive. The whole world had spotted us, English, French, Portuguese were trying to get in contact with us and extract a promise, a word, something to approach and tow us. They offered large sums to entice us and lied that they supposedly had London’s approval and many other things. The radio operator had strict orders to listen but not to answer anyone. Not even a good morning. No one knew what demands they could make if we came into any contact.
We sat for two days and nights, stranded in the middle of the ocean as if we had run out of gas in the desert. Finally, at some point, CAPTAIN KOSTIS appeared on the horizon and in about an hour he reached close to us. A great relief. We were no longer alone, although the operation of connecting was a tricky thing and Captain Stamatis – this was well known – was not an ace in maneuvers. Furthermore, we were in ballast and he was loaded, which meant that the wind and currents affected us differently than they affected him. Three times he tried to approach and all three times he failed.
My crew made fun of him and I sat on the bridge wing with my arms crossed, waiting and cursing. Finally, on the fourth attempt, he managed it with a few scrapes on the port side and his sailors were able to take and secure the lines, as we had prepared them. When he took our chain on his drum and I saw we were secured well, we released eight shackles and, very gently, KOSTIS started forward and GIANNIS behind, two ships one after the other.
I notified London of the successful outcome of the connection and after sitting for quite some time to see what it’s like to be led on a leash, I went down to the saloon, drank a strong drink, and lay down on the couch to close my eyes for a while.
Once day broke and apart from the thick, foamy sea nothing showed that the night we had spent was the one that it was.
The “Kostis” slowly made way and set course again for Jacksonville. We arrived the next day at noon.
As we approached the harbor entrance, the captain asked me over the radio if I needed him for anything and when I told him I thanked him for everything, he released my anchor chain, let it slide noisily into the sea, and amidst celebratory whistles and shouts from the crews, we moored to two tugboats that had come to take us to the dock where we would fit the second propeller.
