ON the night of the 24th of November, 1951, a gale from the west-south-west was blowing across the Goodwin Sands. The seas were very heavy, and the night very dark, with both mist and rain squalls. At 6.48 the coast- guard rang up the Walmer life-boat station. A ship near the South Good- win Lightvessel was reported as man- oeuvring strangely. Eight minutes later another message came, this time from the North Foreland Radio. The ship was calling for a tug from Dover.

She was the steamer Captain Andrew, of 1,300 tons, on her way from Hamburg to Swansea with a cargo of scrap iron.

The coxswain of the life-boat knew that the steamer must be in con- siderable danger and at seven o'clock the maroons were fired. Most of the crew were already standing by. The tide was high, a very heavy sea was breaking, and the launchers, thigh deep in the water, had to struggle to lay the launching skids in position.

With the tide high the life-boat had all too short a run into the water.

She was in danger of being knocked round by the seas and thrown off the skids on to the beach, but as she hesitated the coxswain gave a quick order to the mechanic; the engines were started up; and with the screws scattering shingle and spume, the life-boat was afloat. It was then ten minutes past seven.

" Not Under Control " At full speed the life-boat headed for the South Goodwins Lightvessel four and a half miles away. On her wireless she heard the North Foreland Radio sending out a general warning to shipping and repeating the call of the Captain Andrew for a tug. She herself called up the lightvessel for the steamer's position. The answer came "Some distance astern of us with 'not under control' lights up." There the life-boat found her, on the edge of the sands. She had two anchors down, with 150 fathoms of chain, and to ease the strain on them she was steaming hard ahead. She had.

however, some defect in her boiler and could not raise a full head of steam.

She had, too, something wrong with her steering gear. The seas were breaking over her bows, and sweeping- her decks. Even at her best available speed she could only just keep her posi- tion. Had her engine failed the anchor cables would have snapped and she would have been swept at once on to the sands and disaster.

Difficulties of Communication The Dover harbour tug arrived at the same time as the life-boat, but in those seas it was impossible for her to go alongside. It was impossible even for her to communicate with the steamer. She could not get near enough to communicate by loud hailer above the noise of the gale, and neither steamer nor tug, continually buried in the seas, could see the other long enough to signal by lamp. The steamer was fitted with wireless by which she could signal in morse. The tug and life-boat had radio telephones.

They could speak to one another, but all communication with the steamer had to be through the North Foreland Radio Station.

The tug tried hard to get a line on board the steamer, but faiJed. At times those on the life-boat could see no more than the tip of the tug's mast.

Repeatedly she rolled and pitched so violently that they could see her bottom plates. Once she completely disap- peared and they thought that she had gone.

Attempt to Tow Fails As her own efforts had failed, the tug sent a message to the steamer through North Foreland Radio, asking her to try to pass a rope to the life- boat, so that she in turn couid pass it to the tug. With the rest of the crew holding on to his legs, for fear he should be flung overboard, the motor mech- * anic stood up with the Schermuly pistol and fired a rocket to the steamer. The rocket and its line travelled true. The steamer fastened a heavy rope to the line, and the life-boat hauled it aboard. She then signalled by lamp to the tug, which came as close as she dared. Another rocket was fired from the life-boat and fell between the tug's masts, but the line broke. The tug next made a circuit and came in for a second attempt. This time the line fell across her upper deck and her crew seized it, but it slipped through their fingers. The life-boat men hauled it in, made it fast to the remains of the first line, and. as the tug made another circle and again came within range, a third rocket was fired. Again it travelled true, the line was seized, and the steamer's rope was hauled from the life-boat to the tug. On the tug the rope was made fast to a wire, but their first attempt to get the wire over to the steamer failed. The tug then steamed by, close to the steamer's stern, and managed to get a heaving line aboard her but, because of the still heavy seas and wind, she had to keep so much way on that she con- tinued to steam ahead, and the steamer lost the line before her crew could secure it. The tug steamed on, dis- appeared, and did not return.

Two Life-boatmen Go On Board It was now one in the morning, and the steamer's captain asked if the life-boat would put a man on board.

He would not abandon ship. He was carrying out repairs. He still hoped to be able to bring the steamer into the shelter of the Downs even without his steering gear working; but he was doubtful what room he had in which to manoeuvre. He wanted advice; and a man from the life-boat would reassure his crew. The coxswain a- greed. If he had continued to stand by until the cables parted—as one did later—and the ship were carried on to the sands, he had little hope of saving any of her crew; and the steamer was taking such heavy punishment that he feared that, even if her cables held, she might founder at any moment. He kept the life-boat mov- ing round, as he waited for his oppor- tunity. It came at two o'clock when the wind veered to the north-west, and gave him "a bit of a lee to get the men aboard." With the life-boat festooned with fenders he brought her alongside on top of a sea which lifted her high above the steamer's deck, and as she stood on the crest of the sea the second-coxswain and the bowman jumped. The life-boat moved out again, un- damaged, but with her fenders torn away.

Nearly a Collision Then came another time of waiting, while the life-boat lay off. At 3.40 the steamer at last got under way. At once things began to go wrong. She would not answer her helm, and her captain went full speed astern. Then shouts were heard from the light- vessel. Her master had all his crew lined up on deck, and was burning flares as he watched the steamer, with little power, with no control of her rudder, and in no place where she could drop anchor, being carried by the tide closer and closer to the light- vessel. As she was swept by, the life-boat going ahead of her, she was only half her own length from 'the lightvessel.

Once past this danger, though still scarcely under control, the steamer reached the comparative safety of the Downs. The tug was lying there and the life-boat called her to come and take her in tow. This she did. Wind and sea were going down; and at 5.52 the North Foreland Radio cancelled its warning to all shipping. At the same time the tug brought the steamer to a safe anchorage.

At 6.45 the life-boat was back at her station, and it was found that she had a line wrapped round the shaft of one of her screws. She had been out for nearly twelve hours, and her coxswain said that it was one of the most unpleasant and formidable nights that he had had on the Good- wins.

As the owners of the Captain Andrew paid salvage to the life-boat's crew, the Institution gave no rewards, but sent a letter of appreciation to the coxswain and crew..