TWO MEN had been spending Sunday January 16 fishing off the western end of the Isle of Wight in an open 17ft dory. When, at 1530, they started to prepare for the return passage to Poole, their outboard engine failed. They were reported overdue by their families early on Monday January 17 and a search was set in motion. A fresh breeze, force 5.

was blowing from the west and beyond the shelter of the land the sea was moderate to rough.

Mudeford's 17ft 6in D class Mk IV Zodiac inflatable was the first lifeboat to be launched, at 0618 while it was still dark; manned by Helmsman John Batchelor and Crew Members Paul Derham and Paul Knight, she started searching along the coastline and in Christchurch Bay; after returning to station to refuel just after 0800, she continued the search along Christchurch Ledge, at slack water, and in the area of Ledge Buoy.

Meanwhile, between 0639 and 0724 a shore boat. Gazelle, searched Christchurch inner harbour and the river; she was manned by N. Derham, J. Baker and J. Rathmell. At 0705 the 52ft Arun relief lifeboat Ralph and Bonel/a Farrant, on temporary duty at Yarmouth-, slipped her moorings under the command of Coxswain David Kennett; at first she searched westward from Christchurch Bay to Boscombe and then, at about 0900, extended her search from the Needles east towards St Catherine's Point. A Royal Naval helicopter had joined the search by 0800 and at 0900 Poole's Dell Quay Dory lifeboat, manned by Helmsman David Coles and Crew Members Steven Vince and Andrew Hawkes, launched to search behind the islands in Poole Harbour.

It was about 0930 when Yarmouth lifeboat sighted the missing fishing dory a mile south of Chilton Chine and, once the survivors were on board, the other lifeboats returned to station. The story is taken up from there by David Gimson, one of the men rescued, who was so moved by his experience that he came into Poole HQ the following morning to offer his heartfelt thanks to all the lifeboatmen who had searched for and rescued him and his friend, Nigel Fitzgerald, and to offer any help he could give to the RNLI.

'It was Sunday morning when my friend Nigel and I started fishing off the Isle of Wight, about two miles west of The Needles. We had told our wives that we were going to be back in Poole by six, so at half past three we started the engine and began pulling in the anchor.

Then the engine just died on us. We tried to repair it, but we couldn 't get any life from it.

We sent up a daylight flare, but it wasn't spotted. We had a night flare with us as well, but we couldn't make it work. We tied an orange waterproof coat to the rigging, hoping that, as it swung with the waves, it would be seen from the land. Two coasters passed and we tried to attract their attention, but without success. A big passenger liner went past, too, but she did not see us either.

'Bv that time it was very dark. I took my navigation lights off and waved them about hopefully, but nobody saw them.

'Round about half past nine we started to drag our anchor. We pulled it in and found that one of the prongs had straightened, we were using a rock anchor. We re-positioned the prongs and put the anchor back, but by then we had drifted about three or four miles down towards St Catherine's. We were getting close to the shoreline and the seas were getting very rough.

' The anchor held us until about half past three or four in the morning. Then we think that, in the rough water, the warp must have chafed on a rock and our anchor broke free so that we were drifting. We tied on another anchor and put that over and that stuck in fine. But we were well down toward St Catherine's 'We knew that there could not be a major search until daybreak, so we were just trying to keep our spirits up. Round about seven o'clock we were looking towards The Needles and we saw the green flares go up to call out the lifeboat. At least, we thought, they know we are missing. We found out later that our wives had kept in touch with each other all evening and when we had not arrived home by the early morning they had reported us as overdue.

Daybreak 'It was daybreak when we saw the maroon flares go up, and we were full of hope and enthusiasm. But the sea had got up. It was very rough with waves probably 12 to 14 feet high; the crests were breaking and coming into the boat. It wasn't serious enough to cause us trouble because the boat had a single deck and the water was draining out as fast as it came in, but when you are helpless it is still frightening. And the anchor might not hold.

'At about half past eight a helicopter came over, searching. I took off my coat, which hasa bright red lining, and waved it, but they didn 't see us and when they turned west and flew awa down towards Old Harry we thought everything had gone, that there was no hope left. All night, every time I had thought of mv wife and children, I was frightened for them as well as for myself. I began to think I should never see them again.

Every time, I tried to wipe all such thoughts from m mind because I did not want to get so worried and so frightened that I would perhaps do something silly and make my children orphans. And, somehow, I suppose that I knew that as long as the boat stayed upright and at anchor and we stayed in the boat, the RNLI would rescue us.

'I had been saving a cigarette. I smoke quite heavily, and by nine o'clock the night before I only had three cigarettes left. I thought I would have one at midnight, one at four o'clock in the morning and then my last cigarette I would save until we were either in a lifeboat or a helicopter or until there was no hope left.

'Anyway, when I saw the helicopter disappearing I thought, "That's it. We are not going to survive." The seas were so bad bythai time. I thought about my wife and children and wished that I had never come out fishing that Sunday. I was just going to smoke my last cigarette when we thought we heard an engine. All morning we had been thinking that we heard engines, but there had been nothing there, so we were really past hoping.

'Then the Yarmouth lifeboat came up! I kept on waving . . .

'When I saw her, about a mile and a half away, I stood up and started waving my coat.

And I couldn't slop. I kept on waving until I could actua/lv see the lifeboatmen. smiling.

They gave us such a feeling of security. It was like being re-born. I had so much trust in them. If they had asked me to jump into that rough water I would have done it.

'When they came up alongside us I was expecting them to say, "What are you doing out here?" But they were so good to us. The second coxswain looked over from the lifeboat and said, "Are you Mr Fitzgerald?" which is my friend. We said, "Yes." and he said, "Well, do you want to come with us today or are you going to stay here?" They were so good about it. The told us to pull in our anchor and make fast a tow line. I said forget the boat: I would cut the anchor free and she could smash herself up. But they said, "No. make that rope fast". So we did and there was a line between us. They circled round while we cut our anchor free and then they came back alongside. They didn't even touch our boat. The handled their 52ft Arun lifeboat just as though they were reversing a car. They were brilliant. I would never have believed that such a big boat could be so gentle in such rough seas. 'My friend put his foot on our gunwale and three lifeboatmen grabbed hold of him and said, "You're in the boat!" and picked him up and lifted him right over the lifeboat's guard rail. Then they said, "Come on, you're in!" and they grabbed hold of me and manhandled me into the lifeboat. We are not big men, but we are still quite heavy.

'I can never explain how wonderful I felt, partly because the lifeboatmen themselves were so happy. The coxswain told us that when they first spotted us everyone was just jumping up and down with joy because they had found two live men when they had been afraid it might be two dead men.

'To bring us back down to earth, the coxswain invited us to go up on the bridge with him. They brought us coffee with brandy in it. Then the coxswain showed us all over the boat and even invited us to go down into the engine room. They gave us chocolate and cigarettes. All the men were terrific. I just couldn't believe that they would be so friendly.

One of the crew was wearing a collar and tie and he told me he is the manager of a hotel; he was in the middle of serving someone's breakfast when the call went out and he just dropped everything and rushed to the lifeboat station to get on the boat. I just couldn't believe it. . . .

7 had never realised just how beautiful a boat can be, and I have never seen seven men look so beautiful in all my life. 1 was sorry to get off that lifeboat because there was such a good atmosphere between the crew. And they were so good to us. I expected to be told off, but the coxswain said it could have happened to anyone; it was a series of things which went wrong.

'Even then, I expected we should be in trouble when we got back to the quay. But there was nothing like that. When the lifeboat pulled in, the honorary secretary came down and asked if we were all right. He was terrific.

'No matter whatever I do, I can never repay those lifeboatmen, or the RNLI. I know there were two other lifeboats out looking for us, and a boat in Christchurch Harbour and the helicopter, and my thanks go out to them, too. Mudeford inflatable was the first lifeboat out. But it was the men from Yarmouth who saved my life. I owe them everything, not only that I am living today but that my children have a father.

'After being the rescued, I should love to became involved in a lifeboat crew. It must be so rewarding. By the looks on their faces, it meant more to those men that they had found us and brought us safely back than if we had given them a thousand pounds each. They were over the moon. And their wives — they must be very brave women.

'That rescue was the best thing that has ever happened tome. I glad I had the experience of seeing the lifeboat coming towards me. After having given up hope, to know that your life has been saved . . . it is such a wonderful feeling. And I hope I have made seven good friends at Yarmouth.' A week or two later, David Gimson and Nigel Fitzgerald, together with their wives, returned to the Isle of Wight one evening to entertain to dinner Yarmouth's station honorary secretary, Derek Huffman, Coxswain Dave Kennett and his crew and their wives.

David Gimson also volunteered to join the crew of Poole Dell Quay Dory lifeboat; after a period of training, he has now been accepted as a crew member. The rescued will help to rescue.

For this service a letter of appreciation signed by Rear Admiral W. J.

Graham, director of the Institution, was sent to Coxswain David Kennett and his crew of Yarmouth lifeboat, and a letter of appreciation signed by Cdr Bruce Cairns, chief of operations, was sent to Helmsman John Batchelor and Crew Members Paul Derham and Paul Knight of Mudeford lifeboat.

EXTRACT FROM a letter from Miss Nessie Robertson, honorary secretary of Lerwick ladies' guild, Shetland, to Kenneth Thirlwell, organising secretary (Scotland): 7 have received a gift of £590 made up in £10 notes in an envelope from an old age pensioner who is partially blind. A friend brought her to see me. She lives on a croft and in her own words: "I don't need the money, you see I have my pension and the lifeboat is a worthy cause".' How good are the generous and warm-hearted friends of the lifeboat service!.