Title: The Wahine Disaster

Author: Max Lambert

Publication details: Reed Publishing (NZ) Ltd, 1970

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Part of: New Zealand Texts Collection

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The Wahine Disaster

Chapter Nine

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Chapter Nine

The news that the Wahine was being abandoned jolted the authorities ashore. Only a short time before, the indications were that everything was under control with the ship and those aboard in no danger. Then came the shock news and the authorities had to organise, virtually from scratch, the biggest sea-rescue in the country's history.

The horrible realisation that the ship was doomed had a stunning impact on the watchers who were gathered in silent knots on the shore and hills nearby. At the Worser Bay Boating Club the yachties paused in their cleanup work and the silence was electric as they looked through the clearing weather at the Wahine heeling dangerously a mere mile away. Round the bay George Boswell was wringing his hands at being unable to do anything. He could see what appeared to be activity on the starboard side of the ferry and he rang the local commercial radio station, 2ZB. demanding to know why they were not mentioning it.

About five minutes later the radio broke into programmes with a special bulletin: "The inter-island ferry Wahine in the entrance to Wellington Harbour appears to be beginning to disembark passengers. The Wahine has a heavy list and some of the boat-decks are under water ... a tug and a pilot ship are circling the Wahine."

Boswell's friend Garry Walker had rung his home to hear that the ship was listing badly. Leaving his work he leapt into his van and headed for the bays.

The commodore of the boating club, Kerry Leydon, like Boswell. was anxious about the fate of those aboard. Before 1.30 he had realised the ship was in dire straits and rang the NZBC to get a general call put out for all boat-owners to get out to the scene. The station could not do this without authority, so he rang the Wharf Police Station on the emergency number, 111. The police said everything was under control and that the ferry Aramoana was just leaving to go to the rescue. Believing the 4,160-ton Aramoana would be of little use to pluck survivors from the sea, Leydon went page 109over the head of the authorities and contacted the Royal Port Nicholson Yacht Club, at the small-boat harbour.

The harbourmaster had already ordered the Aramoana and numerous small commercial vessels and fishing boats to head to the scene. However, the state of alert existing through the morning had relaxed as time went on, and some of the crews had dispersed, thinking the emergency was over. By 1.45 the Aramoana, the pilot launch Arahina, the second tug Taioma, the scows Portland and Success, the naval reserve launch Manga, and fishing boats New Fish I, San Constanza, San Antonia, and Golden Star had left. They were to be joined by dozens of private launches, yachts, and power-boats in one of the most stirring seaborne rescue operations ever.

When a dramatic "Send craft to save lives" alarm came from the Tapuhi the harbourmaster was concerned mainly to send only boats of proven seaworthiness in view of the severe conditions he understood were still being experienced out at the harbour entrance. He was unaware that the wind had dropped dramatically by the time the abandonment was completed, and that the breeze that remained had swung round to the northwest. It was as if a giant fan had been turned off.

The land rescue was also under way, and at first was mainly concentrated at Seatoun. Then at 1.31 a police constable at Beacon Hill passed on a message overheard from the tug Tapuhi that lifeboats, rafts, and people in the water were drifting towards the other (eastern) side of the harbour.

The Lower Hutt police had already told the patrol heading back to the station from Eastbourne to turn back, and with the realisation that more help would be required all available staff at Lower Hutt left for the eastern side.

At 1.32 the Free Ambulance was notified by the police that the Wahine was in imminent danger of rolling over and that the rescue area would be Seatoun. Five ambulances and the Ql emergency vehicle were immediately dispatched to the area. About five minutes later the police asked that two ambulances be sent to Eastbourne. The ambulance service decided to send the two based in Lower Hutt, and three more from Upper Hutt and Porirua. There was to be plenty of work for them. The white ambulances, their sirens screaming, raced through the cities alerting people unaware of the disaster that something big was on.

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In suburban Kelburn Mrs Margaret Spidy was shocked when a relative rang to say the Wahine had foundered. Earlier in the morning worried relatives down south had telephoned about her daughter Susan and son-in-law Graeme Betteridge, who were on the ship. When she heard it was in serious trouble Mrs Spidy found it hard to believe: "I thought, 'Oh well, they are close to Seatoun. They must be all right'." She rang the Union Company, who told her to go to the Wellington Railway Station which was to be used as a receiving centre.

The thousands of listeners who heard the news of the ship's abandonment over the radio also found it hard to believe that those aboard could be in any serious danger. The ship was so close to the shore of populated Seatoun and was actually in the harbour, that it seemed inconceivable that life could be endangered. It was to be hours before the full extent of the disaster became widely known.

The ship was close to Seatoun and it seemed reasonable that all the survivors would come ashore there, but few realised that the early outrunning tide and the switch in wind were pushing and blowing those in rafts, lifeboats and the water away from the sheltered Seatoun side towards the rugged eastern coast. As the tide rushed out it hit the still huge incoming swells, and breaking seas developed hundreds of yards off shore.

At Seatoun and other points round the harbour the gallant rescue operation by small boat owners had been launched on their own initiative.

From the Seatoun foreshore twenty-seven-year-old Jim Toulis. watched with his friend Bill Bell as the Wahine lurched three times to starboard. They felt sure she was going to sink. Racing back to his home only a short distance from the beach, Toulis hitched up the trailer carrying his 16-foot outboard motorboat and the two set off for the slipway just west of Seatoun Wharf to try and launch it. Big seas were swirling over the slip and the nearby rocks so they decided to go further round to Worser Bay and try there. They succeeded in launching the boat straight into the sea, and with its 60 hp motor thrusting it through the water at up to 26 knots it headed out to the ferry.

The 33-foot launch Cuda with forty-five-year-old Joe Bown aboard had already left her mooring in the bay and was heading out at a more sedate rate of six knots. With him was his friend Cyril Austin, who had seen the ship in strife from his home over- page 111looking the area and had rung Bown, a Wellington businessman. Bown covered the distance from his Hataitai home to the bay in a record eight minutes and the boat was under way soon after.

In town Ken Mitchell was telephoned at 1.30 by worried members of the surf club at the bay and told that the Wahine appeared to be offloading passengers. Mitchell told them to take the surf boat Miss Europa to sea at once, and the second one as soon as a competent crew was available. He then rang the police, who were concerned when they, heard a surfboat was going out. "They thought it might get into trouble, and even when I told them it was our job to undertake sea rescues they still expressed concern." Mitchell then headed out to the bay himself.

At the boating club those gathered there debated what to do. Across the bay at Seatoun Wharf ambulances and rescue vehicles were already converging. An excited surf club member came racing round from the beach. The Miss Europa needed an extra hand on the oars. Local resident Pat Mclntyre, a wiry individual in his thirties, offered to help. As the Miss Europa clawed through the surf the Aramoana could be seen heading down the harbour. Mclntyre, used to rowing only a small dinghy, pulled on a huge oar. He could see the sweep standing up at the stern, dressed in suit, shoes, collar and tie; straight from a city office. It was a scratch crew, and arms unused to the heavy oars were soon aching as the little boat headed to the scene.

While his friend George Boswell was literally dancing on his lawn with impatience, Garry Walker had reached the top of the hill road leading from Miramar to Worser Bay. By the time he got there the area had been sealed off by police and council traffic department staff. Walker was stopped by a very resolute officer who refused to let him past. Urgently explaining that he had a boat on moorings in the bay ready to go, Walker tried to persuade the officer to stand aside. But orders were orders and the man in authority had had specific instructions to let through nothing but emergency rescue vehicles. With heavy humour Walker was informed he would need a signed letter from the Commissioner of Police before he could get through.

His way to the bay blocked, Walker gunned his motor and, driving up on the footpath, headed up the road running along the spine of the hill. So many cars were on the road that he had to stay on the footpath for most of the way. Cars blocked every page 112intersection, with some of them abandoned in the middle of the road while their owners looked down at the drama unfolding across the bay. He finally managed to slip down a road leading to Seatoun, planning to drive from there round to the bay. Another roadblock sealed off the beach area and the traffic officer manning it waved him away. Walker pulled over and again tried to explain about the boat. No dice; so he put his foot down, and with the irate officer running alongside drove on to the footpath and past the block.

Slipping back on to the road through a gap in the parked cars, he headed past Seatoun Wharf and round to his home. Grabbing the keys of the boatshed, he and Boswell sprinted across the grass flanking the beach and launched the dinghy. With only the Wahine on his mind, Boswell started heading for the doomed ship. It needed a prod from Walker before he turned down the bay to where the boat was moored. Starting the launch's 40 hp diesel they headed out.

Across on the foreshore Wellington's fire chief, Bill Henderson, realised rescue boats were urgently needed and radioed headquarters to get the airport fire staff's rubber Zodiac rescue-boats out to Seatoun, fast. At the airport the call was received at 2.02 pm and the alarm sounded. Within minutes crash fire officer Alun Williams and five colleagues had grabbed their lifejackets and the fire engine towing the trailer with two Zodiacs was heading out of the compound. Siren blaring, it rushed up Broadway towards Seatoun then had to slow to a crawl to edge its way through sightseeing vehicles almost blocking the entrance to the tunnel through to the area.

Big waves were rolling in on the slipway by the wharf, but within minutes the first Zodiac with senior fire officer Vic Cranston in charge had spurted away. Also aboard were Graeme Harris and Terry Kelliher. The other Zodiac was not so lucky. As Williams, helped by his boss, regional fire officer Trevor Rowe, tried to launch it the big seas swept over, dousing the motor and partly swamping it. The fire engine, which had been backed down so the Zodiacs could be unloaded, had got stuck and the small boats arriving at the scene piled up waiting to get out. Finally the engine and trailer were hauled out of the way. The Zodiac was not the only boat to get swamped: Stuart Young, who earlier that morning had been the first to spot the Wahine in trouble, arrived with page 113his 16-foot trailer sailer. Helped by his brother Marten they launched it but then found that in the haste to get round to the scene the cord to jerk the outboard motor into life had been left behind. The boat was swamped and rolled over by the seas, trapping Marten underneath. Wellington fire chief Henderson was one of those to help right it and a pretty sick Marten, full of sand and water, was hauled to safety. The fire chief continued helping to launch the boats. Dressed in full fire kit with heavy rubber boots on, at times he was up to his neck, hanging on to violently pitching boats and trying to avoid being sucked out by the severe undertow.

The scene was much the same at the Worser Bay Boating Club's slip, exposed to the southerly swell. Boats were lined up waiting to try and get out, and some of the volunteers were in the kamikaze class. Commodore Leydon had a hard job trying to convince some of these would-be rescuers that they would not last a minute, even in the moderating conditions.

"I nearly had a stand-up fight with one bloke who, with his daughter, wanted to take out a small outboard dinghy with a 1| hp motor. I argued that there was no point in adding to the tragedy, and he finally saw my point."

One of the boats to get off the slip was the 16-foot runabout Vivaci owned by Seatoun Heights resident Bill Bowe. The first he knew of the emergency was the radio report that lifeboats were being launched. He dashed down to Seatoun in his car to see if boats were needed and received a reply in the affirmative from police. Back home he hitched on the boat and taking his two sons Bill, sixteen, and Trevor, fourteen, passed through the roadblock at the city end of the tunnel.

The slip by the wharf was blocked by boats banked up behind the fire engine and trailer, so they headed round to the boating club. Bowe found it a "bit dicey" launching into the surf rolling on to the slip, but his boat lived up to her Italian name of "Quick and Lively" and, pushed by a 120 hp motor, she shot away from the ramp.

Another to get away was the boating club's small double-ended rescue dinghy with Wellington shipbroker Maurice Crisp and Bob Mclntyre, whose brother was already out in the surfboat.

At the Port Nicholson boat harbour Kerry Leydon's last-chance telephone call had sparked action. Most of the yachtsmen were cleaning up after a hectic morning trying to keep the boats intact.

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Company director Gerald Gibbons had been down at the harbour most of the morning keeping an eye on his 37-foot motor-sailer Rewanui.

Even as late as 12.30 the boat had dragged its moorings, but by 1 pm the wind had dropped and the problems were over. The centre of the storm that had caused all the trouble was then south of Wellington off the South Island's Kaikoura coast and moving at a greatly reduced speed.

Before that, conditions in the inner harbour were so severe that Gibbons would only have taken his boat out in a serious emergency. He had been aware the Wahine was in some sort of trouble but with only the radio to go by, had not thought it was serious. His boat safely moored, he and his twenty-four-year-old son John, a 1968 Olympic rower, were getting dressed about 2 pm when the graphic message passed around the yachties: "Passengers are abandoning the Wahine and all available boats are needed."

The two men immediately prepared the Rewanui to leave and were joined by fellow club-member Brian Barraclough and by Brendon Gilmore who, when he heard the news, closed up his small dairy across the road from the yacht club and offered his services. At 2.15 the Rewanui motored out of the boat harbour along with a fleet of about a dozen other boats of all shapes and sizes.

The 40-foot launch Nereides, owned by Lower Hutt company director Allan Pain, was among them. With him were Mrs Joan Ward and her twelve-year-old son Peter, family friends, who had been having lunch at the club. After eating, they decided to row out to the launch to clean it up as a fanlight had been open through the morning. While on board Mrs Ward heard a yachtie calling out that boats were needed for the Wahine. Thinking they were needed merely to ferry passengers from the ship to shore they decided to set off. The yachtie who alerted them must have thought the same, because he cautioned them against taking more than twenty-five on board at a time.

As the little fleet straggled out towards Point Halswell with the faster ones going on ahead, motorised lifeboats from the Shaw Savill vessels Southern Cross, Corinthic, and Carnatic joined them. From the wharves across the inner harbour more commercial vessels were steaming out including the trawlers Seaway and Venture, the launch Tina, pilot cutter Tuna, and Victoria Uni- page 115versity research vessel Tirohia. Those aboard them had heard the news in a variety of places—pubs, shops, at work or at home. Launches and yachts were also setting off from Evans Bay and it was a regular little armada that eventually passed round Point Halswell and turned south for the Wahine. The ageing police launch Lady Elizabeth was also with them, but shortly after passing the point her engine broke down. Earlier that morning she had been unable to go out, not being designed for really bad weather. Pier breakdown was a blow to the rescue effort, as apart from the airport Zodiac crew the policemen aboard were the only trained rescue launchmen on the harbour. The men aboard her must have thought ruefully of the old adage: a workman is only as good as his tools.

Aboard the pilot cutter Tuna were some of the harbour board divers including Bob Oliver, who had been champing at the bit all morning. He and his mates were still on standby shortly before 2 pm, when a man came rushing out of the Union Company wharf office shouting, "She's gone over, she's gone over."

Oliver's worst fears were confirmed. Ever since he knew early in the morning that the ship had hit the reef he had been worrying about her fate. When he heard she had gone he did not know which way to turn. The pilot boats Tiakina and Arahina were already out on the harbour and there seemed no way of being able to do anything. Then he saw the Tuna getting ready to set off. He called out to those aboard to call at Aotea Quay and pick up him and his fellow divers, and then leapt into a truck to set off around the wharves to alert his mates.

At Aotea Quay the divers dressed hurriedly in their long Johns and other assorted gear before pulling on the sleek-fitting rubber dry suits which, apart from keeping them warm and dry, were also tremendously buoyant. Despite not having air bottles, which were away for filling, the divers, used to spending hundreds of hours a year in the water, felt sure they could be of help.

At Seatoun the watchers stood powerless to do anything as the ferry dipped further and further to starboard. At the Star of the Sea convent school overlooking the scene, the nuns and young boys prayed continuously for those in peril below.

Then incredulous watchers around the hills and shore saw a stirring sight as two tiny figures on surf skis paddled out from Worser Bay beach and appeared and disappeared as the swells page 116rolled under them. They were Worser Bay surf club chief instructor Ken Mitchell and Maranui surf club lifesaver Murray Haxton. When Mitchell got to the bay his club's two surfboats were out on the water and he and Haxton decided to go out on the club's 18-foot skis. They grabbed three lifejackets each and with local resident and well known stamp and coin designer, James Berry, steadying the enclosed canoe-type craft, they negotiated the surf and set off. They had hoped to drag survivors in the water on to the skis and ferry them to larger rescue boats that could not get close to the Wahine. However, by the time they got there those in the water were well east of the ferry and in the rougher seas in mid-channel. Realising they were beyond their reach, Mitchell and Haxton turned back.