At the annual presentation of awards last May Coxswain William Jones of Holyhead and Second Coxswain Victor Pitman of Weymouth both received silver medals for gallantry and Second Coxswain Keith Bower a gold medal; all were for services carried out in extreme conditions. The following morning they met with Lieut.-Commander Roy Portchmouth, divisional inspector of lifeboats (south west) and Joan Davies, who was in the chair, to discuss . . .

boat handling in STORM FORCE WINDS Joan Davies: Gentlemen, you were all in command of lifeboats on service in exceptionally bad weather, storm force winds gusting to hurricane force and very high seas. You not only had to survive, you had to make passages in the shortest possible time and close other vessels to effect a rescue. You achieved these ends with outstanding success. Your experience and any lessons you learnt about boat handling in such extreme conditions will be of great interest to lifeboatmen and also to the seafaring fraternity as a whole.

Starting in the early part of the autumn of 1976, just after the long, hot summer had ended, Will, you took St Cybi (Civil Service No. 9), Holyhead's 52' Barnett lifeboat, out in the early afternoon of Saturday, September 11, to go to the help of a 28' yacht, Pastime, with four people on board. Perhaps you would open the discussion by telling us a little about the state of the sea that day and about this service.

William Jones: When we first started off the winds were about force 9 to 10, coming up north east. Normally, we have a short cut through the rocks by a place called the North Stack, but there was so much sea running there that day that we had to avoid this headland by about two miles and then go down over towards the yacht, which was reported to be about 23 miles off the South Stack. With the wind from the north east, we surfed for about three or four hours to the casualty. It was a little difficult to keep the lifeboat on course.

We didn't have a drogue out, because we wanted to get there as quickly as possible but if you didn't watch the boat she tended to try to broach with the following sea. When we got to the yacht, at about 4 o'clock, we didn't see her until we were about three or four hundred yards off. While we were trying to attract the attention of the people on board we realised that the rope she was using as a drogue had gone into our prop. We couldn't cut it away, because it was under our stern, and we were towing her stern first for a couple of minutes; then the engine stopped. We asked the skipper of the yacht to cut the rope and this he eventually did. He was a good seaman.

Then the other three people on board came on deck.

Conditions were bad at that time.

We had to make a new approach from about a mile upwind of the casualty.

We were getting a little worried that the yacht might be swamped by the curling seas and I thought a downwind approach would be best. We had to watch that we didn't run into the yacht herself, and we had to go in with just one engine and with the rope trailing behind us.

Also the yacht's liferaft had been made fast astern. We went alongside, the crew held on and we brought the four people on to the lifeboat. We deflated the raft and got it on board, too, and then we had to start cutting the rope clear of the prop, which, in those conditions, as you all know, is a little bit difficult.

Eventually the crew cut the rope and we started slowly ahead and made for Holyhead. We couldn't go at full speed because by this time the tide had changed, going towards the north, while the wind was still from the north east, making the seas very confused. We started off with one engine. As we started the other engine up, we realised that we had no throttle, and David Drinkwater, who was acting as mechanic that day, went below and found that the throttle cable had parted. So, he was very, very good. He made a bit of a throttle himself with a piece of string and tied the end of it on the hatch door.

We managed to get the revs up to about 1,500 and maintained them at that as we made for Holyhead. The seas were pretty bad, and of course it was getting dark.

We were, I think, about five miles off South Stack when I saw a red parachute flare. I reported this to the Coastguard and of course they asked me to go and look for whatever it was. Due to the wind and where we sighted the flare, we suspected there was something wrong with it; but we had to go close inshore to the rocks, and, as you all know, in the dark in that sort of weather it is a very, very nervous business, going inshore. By this time it was blowing very, very fresh. We searched for an hour and a half; we suspected that it was a hoax and we found out eventually that it was. It delayed us by about three hours in all. We got in to Holyhead eventually after nine hours at sea. We couldn't rehouse because the weather was so bad, so we berthed in the inner harbour. I think that is about it.

Roy Portchmouth: You didn't have to tow the boat at all? Jones: No. I do a bit of sailing myself.

I think it is about the first time I have ever refused to tow a yacht, but I would have had to get one of my own crew on board to make a rope fast.

Victor Pitman: Will, what fenders did you have ? Hard coir rope or plastic ? Jones: Plastic and also hard rope.

Pitman: Did you find like we do that when you are at sea trying to get alongside a boat the plastic ones just don't catch? They jump and they are inboard more than they are out? If we can get enough of the grass ones we don't put the others over to go alongside a yacht.

Keith Bower: A coir fender has a different sort of grip. A plastic fender, when it gets wet, is very slippery, but a coir fender grips a little bit, especially on a smooth surface, like a glass fibre, highly polished yacht—or a highly polished lifeboat! Portchmouth: Do you keep water in your plastic ones? With water in them you can get them to the same weight as the coir ones.

Pitman: But it's their shape; the sea hits them up. Alongside the wall, the plastic ones are good, but at sea the others are better.

Portchmouth: You used plastic fenders, didn't you, Keith? Did you find they were effective ? Bower: No, we were slamming against the side of the casualty so hard that they just didn't make any difference at all.

Portchmouth: You couldn't keep them in place anyway, I suppose. You've just got to trust to your D fender belting, haven't you? Bower: Exactly. And in fact in places that was squashed flat and the wooden backing piece was squashed as well.

Davies: Will, did you have any experience of what I think is called a 'hole in the sea' ? Jones: Yes. Coming back we had a head sea and you got on top of a swell and all of a sudden you could feel there was nothing ahead of you. You just had to wait and hold your breath, and then you were back into the sea again. This happened a few times. You wait and hold your breath.

Pitman: And swear as she goes down! Davies: Vic, you took the Weymouth Arun class lifeboat Tony Vandervell out in the early evening of Thursday, October 14, 1976, to go to the help of the 52-ton yacht Latifa with eight people on board in winds which reached force 12. Perhaps you would tell us something of your experiences.

Pitman: From leaving the harbour we knew that we were going to have hard weather. The lifeboat was running before the seas before we were quarter of a mile off and as we went along further the seas built up. This boat was new to us in this sort of sea. We were wondering all the way, obviously, what her capabilities were. Although we weren't far off the shore for the first three miles the seas were already there.

We were making to West Shambles Buoy—the end of a very shallow bank— and we had a change of course to the east, to East Shambles Buoy. With the confused sea and the shallow water on the bank we had tremendous seas then.

I know we were apprehensive. Only once did she turn her nose down and start digging under; pulling the throttles back, she came up immediately. No problem at all. We kept full speed on the whole service. No head sea going out, but a nasty one on the quarter, then on the beam, visibility being very, very bad.

We knew that Latifa was being escorted by a naval ship, Ariadne, so when we came up to East Shambles Buoy there was no need to go direct to her and we made a rendezvous point at East Shambles Buoy. We thought we would just take a turn around, pick up the buoy again, another turn around, just wasting time; but every time we turned around we found that we had lost this buoy. With storm force sea conditions and visibility, you just didn't know where it was half the time. So I thought I would put the boat out of gear and see what would happen. I think the best part of the crew were apprehensive when they felt this boat come out of gear instead of being kept up into the sea with full control over her, but we found we had nothing to worry about. We saw a light in the distance and, taking it to be the frigate, we steamed after her. That took us a mile south, and then you got a completely different sea again. A lot bigger, but truer. It was a long, long time before we could even see the yacht. We laid up there 20 minutes, no more than 200 yards from her, without even seeing her hull.

When we eventually got alongside I considered it just impossible to take anyone off, so, through the naval ship, we got the skipper to agree to be taken in tow. Now, being fairly new to handling this boat, I stopped to think. With these Aruns, knowing the control you can have over them, instead of tearing in, it's wise to give yourself two or three minutes to weigh up the situation. Now, we fired the first rocket, but it wasn't received; the second time the rocket and man firing it very nearly went over the side. The lads down below realised that this was no good, we couldn't stand there long enough to get the line away properly. So they decided, for the third attempt, one man, with the gun, would be against the rails, while another man would get behind him and hold the rail and keep him there; and that worked perfectly. I realised afterwards that, had they not got the line across that third time, we could have gone up alongside, with danger of damage, and perhaps passed the line by hand. While we were waiting to take up the tow I found that I could let this yacht come right up under us, knowing that when I got the shout from below I had the power to get out of the way. With the old boat, if there was a rope near the propellers, you would have had to go because she was so slow moving; and if you get the rope round the propeller, that's it. But you could see this yacht come up until her bowsprit was literally over our stern—and just a quick burst, and you were 20 yards away. That is the difference.

Davies: Could you tell us in a little more detail about the actual taking up of the tow—the moment of taking the strain ? Pitman: We have a big nylon tow rope, 3 inch, 120 fathoms, and we gave her the whole lot. Of course, we weighted it with a fender. With the sea on her beam the yacht was really getting a hammering, but I considered that we were less likely to lose the tow with her having a slightly quarter to beam sea than if we tried to put her head up into it; she would have had a smoother ride, head to sea, but the ebb tide would have carried us further west. This would have put us in a difficult position back to the east side of the Shambles Bank. If we had lost the tow, which all lifeboatmen try to avoid, we should have been in greater difficulties. If you are going to lose a tow, lose it out in the open sea where you can get it again without running into worse trouble.

After the first half mile we realised that she wasn't going to part. We just nursed her; we didn't try to get her home fast. Each engine was on about 1,000 revs, making 4 knots, which was more than good in those conditions.

Portchmouth: Vic, it's important to tie in with what you have just said a record of the actual sea conditions. Now, as I recall it, the waves were estimated at up to 50 feet, you had a force 12 gusting to 13 against a 3 knot tide and the skipper of Ariadne said that the waves were as steep as anything he had ever seen in his life—that is an RN captain with quite a lot of sea time under his belt. And, you did three 360 degree turns, did you not, in this sea, while going around to take the tow? You had to make three approaches? So your Arun was, in fact, exposed to phenomenally steep as well as high seas, probably as bad as anybody is likely to experience. And you had the boat in all aspects to the sea. Therefore what you are saying about how this boat handled is very significant.

Pitman: Well, it needs to be seen to be believed, the way she handles in those conditions. Now, I had knocked a lot of worry out of this manoeuvre when we were laying up before ever we saw the casualty. I had tried her out of gear, shut everything off, and she was just like a seagull; she wasn't wallowing anything like our old boat. Then I made two or three experiments with seas breaking—just using one engine, literally no throttle at times—and I could swing the bow straight into that sea in a split second, where with a conventional lifeboat you would have worked your arms off. When the first big breaking sea was coming, we were a bit frightened; the second one a bit apprehensive; after about three had hit us like that we just let her lay.

With the old boat we should have held her bow up with a little engine so that a big sea would have come up and over and then rolled in under; we should have let the sea knock her back.

The yacht would have gone away from us, but we could have manoeuvred on again. But after having had the seas on all sides of us I realised that we could come around. I just let everything do itself slowly. I didn't drive her. So, if a sea wanted to hit her, that sea helped her round. Provided I'd once got her starboard side to the wind, every time she was hit she was going round on her own. And, as with anything else, each approach became easier, for the simple reason that I had got more used to the conditions, the type of seas and exactly what the boat would do.

No, the most worrying part was coming up to get close because there was so much sea and spray being thrown up that, even on the flying bridge, I was blind for long periods. I couldn't even see the yacht. Now, with our other boats we were always happier to be head on to a big sea, jogging up, because you knew that that was the way you had most control. But with the Arun, which sounds ridiculous, I'd rather have the sea anywhere except on the bow; as soon as I had it either side I lost the sea on the flying bridge and I could see everything. And also I found, when her stern was to the seas you didn't get the feeling that they were lifting you and driving you like they would in our old Barnett. That may be my imagination, but I thought she handled better with the sea there too.

Davies: Keith, you took the Torbay 54' Arun class lifeboat, Edward Bridges (Civil Service No. 37) on Monday, December 6, 1976, at 0115 to go to the help of motor vessel Lyrma with a crew of ten. Perhaps you would tell us a little bit about it.

Bower: We launched, as you say, at about 0115. The weather on the moorings was calm. I was up the top, on the flying bridge, going out, and we were doing full speed at 1,900 revs, which is about 19 knots. It was a bit icy up there, obviously, with it being December, so I shouted down through the intercom and said to one of the lads, 'Right, you take over for a minute. I'm coming down.' So I went down, sat in the coxswain's seat. I had a chap sitting alongside me, John Dew, with the Decca and the radar, all to hand. The rest of the crew were in. We went round Berry Head and hit the first big sea, which was a total shock to me. We battened down and plotted the course down to the casualty. The wind was about south south west, about head to wind on the course we had to go. By this time we had hit three of these big seas and we were right in the teeth of it.

We could hear the engines revving and dying as we left the tops of the crests and fell into the troughs. I estimated the boat to be airborne, practically, at times. Well, my brother, Stephen, the mechanic, he took off out of his seat and jammed his knees under the mechanic's desk. So for our own comfort and the safety of the ship— and common sense—we eased her down on the very big crests. You could actually see the white water coming over the bow, so we eased her down.

When we got down off the shore a little bit we 'tacked', putting the wind first on one bow and then on the other, and this was partly accident as well as design because we had several targets on the radar, coasters running up to Torbay to shelter, and we knew that it was a coaster we were going out after.

We didn't quite know which one it was —you know ? At any rate, we eventually got to the casualty, after about an hour and a half. We heard over Start Point radio that they were giving the forecast as south south west 10 to 11, and we thought, well, it's not going to get any better. When we arrived on the scene there were three boats there: Eurofreighter, which is a very big tanker, standing by, the casualty herself and another small vessel.

I handed over the wheel to the navigator and said, ' You hang on until I ge, up top' When I got up there you could see right around and see the situation.

Lyrma was the most seaward of the ships. Now this was a bit of practice, similar to Vic's experience. We had been steaming down with the wind on each bow, trying to see which way she would take it the best. Now came the time when we had to go broadside to get out to this fellow. So I thought, 'Oh, well—all or nothing', and just steered to her.

We went over to her and talked to the is quite a new terminology. There was no arguing about it, they just left it all to the lifeboat.

The helicopter told us that the job was impossible for him, unless the crew got into the liferaft. At that moment I had a feeling of helplessness, you know? What the hell are we going to do? The helicopter can't do it. We can't do it without the possibility of serious damage to the lifeboat and Lyrma.

And then the captain left the wheel to go and do something, and the ship stayed broadside. Now this is an aspect he didn't want because he was afraid of a capsize—it had happened to Lovat the year before. We could hear his cargo moving, smashing up and down.

It was chipwood and diesel oil in drums. The diesel oil had soaked one lot of chipboard and it was getting heavy, so that he had extra weight to one side, thus causing the vessel to list.

When he left the wheel, Lyrma stayed bow in towards the shore and stern out to sea. We sat there, stopped in the water like a duck, as Vic says, and then I said to John, '/ think maybe we would be able to get in on his starboard quarter.' It was the obvious choice because it was high and we could go in and rub up and down against her side. She was a well-deck ship and I didn't want the flare of our bow to drop in over the well. Anyway, we went in. I'm not sure whether we touched or not, but we got pretty close. I was surprised how quietly she went in and came out. We wouldn't have broken an egg, even in those conditions.

I said to John, '/ think we could have had one then? and he said, ' Yes.' So we asked the captain to muster the crew on the starboard side.

We went in nine or ten times; sometimes we got two aboard, sometimes we got one and sometimes we aborted the attempt all together and tried again. But the whole time at the back of my mind was the thought that if she does come over on to us I shall have to save the boat using her sheer power to pull her out from under. In fact, this is what happened on about the sixth run.

Lyrma sat on us and bent the handrails to about 45 degrees. I was talking to the captain on the bridge, like I am talking to you now, a few feet away from you. Our lads had to jump out of the way, we came astern, and everything was OK, luckily. It could have gone the other way.

We got eight aboard and picked up the last two who had, in fact, got into the liferaft. We then left everything and steamed for home. Coming home, the sea was on our port quarter and I stayed on top—I had a ticking off from Commander Portchmouth—but I felt as safe as anyone could possibly feel in those conditions, up there. She did lean over a couple of times, but when there was a big sea running—and 1 should imagine that that is one of the worst conditions you could be in, with it on your quarter—she steered fairly straight. I could handle her. The biggest broach we had was when we had left the sea but there was swell left; we were only about two miles offshore. She broached around, not over—maybe it was lack of concentration on my part— but she broached about 70 degrees off course, and we corrected her. It wasn't dangerous at all. She was putting her ear in a bit, but it was no problem.

Then we came back into calm water.

Pitman: I don't know if you had a blasting for being up on the flying bridge, but for me, I'd stop there until the cows came home, now! Portchmouth: It was interesting that they all decided that the lifeboat was going to be 'on scene commander'. Did anyone designate you as that? The Coastguard, for instance? Bower: No, not at all. It was naturally assumed, I suppose, that there was a rescue unit there and they were the experts in the job. I believe there were a couple of radio messages passed for information to shipping to keep clear, saying there was a rescue in progress and the Torbay lifeboat was 'on scene commander'.

Portchmouth: Now, all three of you chaps have driven 52' Barnetts. How many times did you actually take command of the old Frank Spiller Lock, Vic? Pitman: Not many. I was helmsman on nearly every service until we actually went alongside, when the coxswain took over. I had only been out in charge perhaps half a dozen times.

Portchmouth: What about you, Keith ? Bower: I used to do a lot of showing the flag jobs. That's where I got most of my handling practice. I did in fact take The Princess Alexandra of Kent on four services, when I was in command. But if one of our coxswains found an easier way of doing the job or manoeuvring the ship he would pass the message down the line, so to speak.

Comparing the two boats, with a conventional type boat like the Barnett, you have got the propellers in tunnels and the deadwood in the middle, which parts them; it cuts down a lot of manoeuvrability. For instance, if you want to go ahead and hard a'starboard, you would go ahead on your starboard engine; she would always swing to port anyway if you used two engines.

Coming astern, I found that if you came astern full and chucked her out of gear she would steer astern, but if the props were turning she would just go where she wanted.

The Arun is entirely different. You can spin her like a top, and, when you are talking about weather, you've got power—you've got nearly 1,000 hp at your disposal. On the other hand conventional class boats are very safe for working beaches. The Arun's props are comparatively naked; there is no guard at all and if you go near a crab pot she will suck in a rope.

Pitman: Portland Bill is like a minefield with pots in the summer. Whereas, to avoid the race, we always used to keep right in under, now, it's obvious, we have got to go through the race or outside it. We shall still get there quicker, but we'll have a longer way to go and a rougher ride.

Portchmouth: Would you be prepared to sacrifice any speed and manoeuvrability for the sake of protection of the propellers ? Bower: No. I would rather have the speed and manoeuvrability. You can get out of situations where you need protection for the propeller, nine times out of ten, by veering lines down or veering the inflatable in.

Pitman: It's a fact. I can't see that you can really improve anything in the handling of the Arun.

Portchmouth: You wouldn't like to see any concessions made at all towards protecting the props if it meant any reduction at all in manoeuvrability and speed? Pitman: No, none at all. The number of shallow water jobs in comparison with deep sea jobs is very small.

Bower: I agree. For instance, we carried out one coast job with The Princess, the 52' Barnett, which you could have done as well, if not better, with the Arun. It was a beach job but we were anchored with 18 feet of water under the keel.

We couldn't get closer for rocks. We had taken an hour and a half to get to the casualty; with the Arun it would have taken less than half the time.

Pitman: The only advantage of the old boats with the tunnefs is that you can go into shallow water to the limit, until you touch. You can ground. We did it often, going in steady, if there wasn't a great big sea; as soon as you touched you knew that that was your lot. With the Arun, in any swell, you have got to double the depth she is allowed, to make sure those propellers don't touch.

You've got to be on the safe side.

Bower: We did make a search in the Arun for a body at Paignton Beach with an easterly breeze, about 6 or 7.

We could see the body in the surf. We got in with the echo sounder on, bow first. Obviously we were afraid of the propellers. The way I think we could have executed a rescue, had it been a living person, would have been to drop the anchor, veer the small boat down on one line and place a man in the boat with a separate line on him and veer both lines, one from each quarter. The reason for this is that if you clip the man into the boat and the boat flips in the sea, you can't recover the boat quickly enough to recover the man, even though he's wearing a lifejacket. If he is not made fast and the boat flips and he falls out, he is in the same state as the casualty. We've thought about this, and I have talked to you, Commander Portchmouth, about it, and we are waiting for a sea to try the manoeuvre in practice. It is obviously an operation which would take a bit of co-ordination.

Jones: You would veer down with the anchor up on the stern ? Bower: No. We would anchor at the bow and let the stern go in. We would have the echo sounder on and keep plenty of water under the keel. We've got adequate ropes aboard—and we've got some of the shallowest beaches around, I suppose.

Portchmouth: Can I throw in a thing here for your consideration? St Peter Port Arun had to go to a tanker that had gone right in up amongst rocks on the coast of Alderney. She was high and dry and a force 8 was rolling in there all night. It was a part of the coast that the coxswain was not completely familiar with and he was worried about the rocks. There was no immediate danger for the crew on board the casualty, so for six hours, throughout the night, waiting for dawn when he could effect a rescue, he stayed with his bow towards the casualty and his stern to the sea, with no anchor down at all.

For six hours he just held her there on the throttles, and he said that there was no trouble.

Bower: This was the same situation as our search for the body. We didn't in fact do what I have just said we were thinking of trying because we knew it was a body. We stayed just clear, on the back of the breakers watching the depth on the echo sounder so that she wouldn't bump on the swells and keeping her bow in. We stayed like that very well on the throttles.

Jones: How do you find her, with an onshore wind, coming astern? Will she go the way you want her to go ? Bower: Yes, because she's got two engines and they are operating independently with plenty of water round them.

Portchmouth: They operate conventionally, don't they. If you go astern with your starboard engine, your stern goes to port.

Bower: Yes. You've only got to knock one out of gear. When we were allocated an Arun we went for the shake-down trials to Guernsey, back to Torbay, down to the Isles of Scilly and up to Fishguard. I tried to keep an open mind when we joined at the Arun Shipyard in Littlehampton. My first impression was of being aboard about a 120-footer.

We went across the Channel in four hours. There's no comparison. We were used to 9 knots—we're doing 19 now. We went through Alderney Race.

Admittedly those are only tidal seas, and not very dangerous—not much power in them. We went on top of a crest and I looked over the side and Captain Harding, the trials officer, said, 'Don't worry about it? I was beginning to sweat a bit. But after she went over that sea I was convinced that this was the boat for us.

Jones: I like the Arun very much, but coming back to a big ship, in ballast if you like, and a nasty tide and blowing hard. You've got a coxswain on the flying bridge and the ship is high above you. You have a roll. Isn't there a danger that somebody might get injured? It's all right going alongside a yacht, where you are looking down on to a hull which is lower than yourself, but the coxswain on the bridge is really high up ...

Portchmouth: That is exactly the situation that Keith had, so he can tell you the answer to that.

Bower: Well, we went alongside, making about nine approaches. There were about three times when the steamship rolled over towards us and the Arun rolled towards her. At that time, I suppose, from the flying bridge we could touch her bridge wing and her lifeboats, just with our hands, but it seemed that they were very soon parted; we were able to see this happening and, if necessary, duck. It seemed to get so far and then stop. The two boats were coming together and then the action of the bigger vessel actually pushed the lifeboat off. As the bigger vessel came over—and remember that Lyrma had at least a 20 degree list— the pressure on the port side of the hull of our boat actually pushed her over and she cleared the bridge and the two vessels were more or less rolling together.

Jones: What was the state of the sea at that time? Bower: Thirty to forty foot swell and about force 10 south south west. The idea of being up the top is that your eye level is 16 feet above the level of the sea and you have got all-round visibility.

You can watch your survivors being got off the casualty; you can watch them go aft and in the back door.

Jones: Lyrma would have had a freeboard o f . . . what ? Bower: She was a well-deck ship, welldeck forward and then a main deck flush with her poop, and I suppose there was about 10 to 12 foot freeboard in the area we were working. As our rubbing strake came up alongside her sheer strake we were about level. At times our bow was higher than her rail—that's when we were rolling alongside.

We have done a couple of medical jobs from ships anchored off Torbay.

We have to go out and get people off in quite a swell—7 or 8 feet. As the sea runs down the side it seems to get bigger at the aft end and you can anticipate the action of the Barnett. It wouldn't be all that comfortable. You would be fighting to keep the lifeboat in position. With the Arun you put the bluff of the bow in and she sticks like glue to a blanket.

Pitman: I know exactly what you mean, Keith. With older conventional lifeboats manoeuvrability was so hard in a high sea and high winds that the quicker we could get alongside and get a stout rope on the better. We would put out every fender we could and just let them slam it out. With an Arun you can move so quickly, Will, that you can literally hold for split seconds. You can see something happen—a swing of the ship —and you can be away astern.

Portchmouth: You've all three driven Barnetts and two of you have driven Aruns. Do you get the impression, Keith, that the Arun rolls more than the Barnett? Bower: I don't think the Arun hull rolls much more than the Barnett; it is only the height that accentuates it. She has got an entirely different action. She's a lot quicker. We've had the wheelhouse windows horizontal several times, but once you can accept the fact that she comes back it's a very confidenceboosting sort of thing.

Portchmouth: Will, what is the maximum roll that you have experienced in the Barnett? You've had the gunwales under ? Jones: Oh, yes.

Portchmouth: 25 degrees? Jones: About that. We have been out in some really bad weather with this Barnett. I have been with her now for about 19 years. She's a marvellous boat.

The hull is fantastic.

Portchmouth: What about you, Vic? Pitman: As Keith says, it's a totally different action. The Barnett goes over slowly, nothing like the speed of the Arun, and comes back slowly; your body is used to the motion. Our bodies are gradually getting used to the Arun now; she goes over quickly but she also comes back that much quicker. We've had some massive rolls in her . . .

Portchmouth: One of your crew estimated 70 degrees.

Pitman: Ah, when we broached we were well over, well over. We were all in the wheelhouse then. We were probably over far further than we ever were in the Barnett. Once we had got over this roll and back up, I think it was from then on we realised that you don't really need any self-righting capability.

I don't think she ever would go over.

Jones: Why do you think she rolls all that much compared to a conventional type boat? Bower: Because of the speed, for a start.

Say you are doing 5 or 10 knots, she won't roll at all. It's the speed that gives the roll.

Jones: How is she in that sort of a sea if you have got no power at all, simply hove to ? Bower: Just like a duck, squat on the water.

Pitman: With a big sea rolling on a Barnett—you know the feeling, 'Hold on, boys' and you go up and over slow.

But this one just takes to the sea like a seagull would.

Portchmouth: Now this huge roll that you experienced in the Arun, Vic, occurred when you had a following sea? Or on the quarter? Pitman: She was on the quarter, but also with the odd growler coming dead abeam, rolling on from the shallow banks some way away. It was a broach.

Portchmouth: So in that aspect she probably isn't as stable as the Barnett ? Pitman: Well, this is common sense. We get our own fishing boats jogging along at 6, 7, 8 knots. They never broach. I don't know whether you've known one broach, Keith ? Mine never has.

Bower: I think the criteria is the speed.

If you've got any boat going at the same speed as the sea, you've got a job. You either ease them down or open them up. Normally, with the Arun's electric tiller, you can counteract a broach immediately.

Jones: As you know, with the Barnett, you can just steer full ahead—and there it is. You can forget the sea breaking over your beam or wherever it is. You don't bother.

Pitman: Will, with your Barnett, when the sea rolls up you never look behind.

And we have got to the stage where we never look behind us in an Arun. It's the same feeling. You just know that there is a hard sea behind you and that the boat is going to take it.

Portchmouth: One question I would like to ask all three of you. Have you felt any concern in any of your boats, old or new, as to the potential safety of survivors when they jump down on to your deck off a casualty ? If so, do you think there is anything the RNLI can devise that would make it a safer operation? Pitman: I have often thought of it. I don't think there is anything you can do. You have got to get them aboard any way you can. You do all you can to soften the blow, but you couldn't produce anything intricate to help.

Portchmouth: Would a net of some sort forward be a good thing ? Jones: I suppose a net would be all right in calm weather, but you couldn't use it in rough seas.

Portchmouth: I believe one of the foreign lifeboats does have a net rigged forward, like a fireman's blanket, on to which survivors are supposed to jump. I don't know whether this is a feasible thing? Or whether you can get it close enough to the lifeboat's side to make it effective ? Pitman: If you put a net, it can only cover a little area. You may try to put your bow in, only to have a sea hit you round. If your stern suddenly finds he's there, the survivor has got to come in over the stern.

Bower: This question arose in our job.

I was afraid that the crew might jump before we were ready. If they had jumped too soon there was the chance that they would have gone in between.

This is a risk with a net, I think.

Pitman: A net could impede the crew as much as help . . .

Bower: If you want to go forward and chuck a hook out, or something like that, you have got to get under this net or round the side.

Davies: Did you find having the lower section amidships a help in getting the two men aboard from the liferaft, Keith? Bower: Oh, great. Actually this was another good demonstration of the manoeuvrability and the astern power of the Arun. We were stern to the sea while we waited for the liferaft to drift clear of Lyrma's stern. For reasons of quickness—the two men were waving thinking we had forgotten them—rather than steam down past the raft and turn around and come up head to wind, I approached down wind. The boat had sat there like a little duck while we had been waiting, and then just at the wrong time a curler caught us and she went up on her stern and down fast. . .

she must have been doing 15 to 20 knots, straight for the raft. It flashed through my mind, if we do hit the raft it's only going to be a glancing blow because it is round; we are not going to do any damage or hurt anyone. I pulled both the throttles back and that boat bit and came astern against the sea. And she was surfing. She came astern against that. She stopped. I was up on top and the raft disappeared from my view underneath. We were up on the sea, and when we came down our boat went about two foot clear of the raft. The chap that was up forward, as soon as the props bit and she came astern, he tripped over the anchor, threw the rope and a little hand came out of the raft and grabbed it. We pulled the raft to us, under our lee side, and whipped them over the low rail.

Davies: Could I ask you each what you feel you learnt most from your particular service. Will ? Jones: I think you learn to respect the sea. You learn all the time. Every trip you make, every rescue that you do is different.

Davies: What about you, Vic? Pitman: The one thing I learnt, without a doubt is, take more time. With the faster boat you must think and think again, it doesn't matter how old you are or how much experience you have got. And I have also learnt, as in fact I always knew, that if every member of the crew can do every job, the coxswain is as happy as a sandboy because he knows he hasn't got to worry about anybody aft. They can do the job as well as him and he can leave it to them.

His job is the engines and the throttles and manoeuvring.

Davies: Keith? Bower: Well, I can only echo Will's and Vic's sentiments. As Vic says, you don't rush in to a job. Had we gone in foolishly in the first place and risked a damaged bow we might have killed someone. But we waited, we took our time. I think if I had to do the job again I would do the same as I did. As you go through your lifeboating career you are bound to build up knowledge and experience of individual rescues, so you learn a bit more every time. Everything is different. You have got to play it by ear. I always like to get the crew mustered, tell them what we are going to do and just get the job done.

Davies: Perhaps I could end the discussion by recalling the definition in the Beaufort wind scale of storm, force 10: Wind speed, 48-55 knots: probable average wave height in the open sea 9 metres—probable maximum, 12.5 metres: Very high waves with long overhanging crests; resulting foam ingreat patches is blown in dense white streaks along direction of wind; surface of sea takes a white appearance. Tumbling of sea becomes heavy and shocklike. Visibility affected.

Will, Vic, Keith, Roy—thank you all..