For so many people, the lifeboat service is synonymous with those who risk their lives, putting out to sea to save others. Here, RAY KIPLING, Assistant Director of the RNLI, takes a look at the less glamorous, but equally important role played by the station honorary secretaries.'Cinderella at the sharp end 'Cinderella WANTED: Key decision maker with sound marine knowledge capable of shouldering considerable administrative burden and dealing with people at all levels.

HOURS OF DUTY: 24 hours a day PAY: Nil JOB TITLE: Lifeboat station honorary secretary IT MAY SEEM REMARKABLE but there are 202 men who fit the above job description and who volunteer to undertake the duties. If lifeboatmen are often the unsung heroes then the real Cinderellas of lifeboat stations are the honorary secretaries. For on them rests the decision of whether or not to launch the lifeboat and, in extreme circumstances, whether it should be recalled. But at a well run station, the honorary secretary is rarely in the limelight and the scope and importance of his job is not widely known.

There are, of course, 202 different ways of doing the job—one for each lifeboat station—and each honorary secretary, as they are known, has different experience and a different approach. The RNLI takes seriously the appointment of new honorary secretaries with each being referred to the Committee of Management for confirmation.

RNLI Director, Rear Admiral Wilfred Graham, also regards them as key personnel.

"The honorary secretary is the RNLI's man on the spot, the head office link with the coast. We rely very heavily on his experience, dedication and local knowledge.

He is crucial to the voluntary lifeboat service." To help paint a picture of their work, I talked to Clem James (Staithes and Runswick), Lieutenant David Case (Wells) and Captain Brian Atkinson (Aberdeen). The tiny fishing village of Staithes nestles below the North Yorkshire Moors and is so small that visitors' cars are halted at the top of the cliffs: there is no room for them down in the village. Clem James, a retired wholesale fish merchant, can see the lifeboathouse from his favourite chair. He has been honorary secretary for the last eight years, since the 37 foot Oakley class lifeboat was withdrawn from neighbouring Runswick and an Atlantic 21 station opened at Staithes. Many years ago there was competition between the two villages but more recently Staithes men helped to man the Runswick lifeboat and Clem James fired the maroons, drove men from Staithes to Runswick and before he was the honorary secretary went to sea as a crewman when there was a man short.

His father was honorary secretary of the Staithes and Runswick stations for 43 years, was elected a life governor of theRNLI and was awarded an MBE for his lifeboat work. Add to that Clem's frequent trips to sea with the local coble fleet and his observation of fishing boats in all weathers and his qualifications for the post are obvious.

"/ enjoy being part of an organisation which does such a worthwhile job. When a successful rescue has taken place it brings tremendous satisfaction. The thing that gives me the most emotional lift is when we get a 'shout'. I fire the maroons and those massively impressive doors fold back, as if by magic, almost before the last echo of the maroon has died away." If the job brings satisfaction it also brings a great deal of responsibility.

Clem James regards himself as fortunate as he receives support from all sections of the lifeboat community and he has confidence in his crew and their boat. Nonetheless, he does admit to one heart stopping moment.

"/ launched the lifeboat to escort the local fishing cobles through the difficult quarter of a mile to the harbour mouth and the swell grew at an alarming rate.

Having escorted the first coble to safety through a comparative 'smooth' the lifeboat turned out through the harbour and as the helmsman was not able to see over the breakwaters he met a massive wave which was estimated at 25 feet. The lifeboat climbed the wave in a perpendicular manner and went over the top airborne. This was not so bad as we knew she was capable of doing this. What was worrying was how she was going to generate enough power to surmount the next wave. She disappeared completely behind the first wave and it was some minutes before we saw her again. The crew took the whole thing very much as part of the day's work." In his estimation an element of a successful station is for all concerned, crew and helpers, to act as a group.

"From the beginning we have operated as a group. We always credit things to the Staithes lifeboat, not to individuals. We made a brave fight to keep the big boat at Runswick and I was heavily involved. The operation there was at peak efficiency.

The station at Staithes inherited several of the crew from the big boat which was a great help. We still regard the Oakley as a fine boat but having had a successful station with an Atlantic 21 for 8'/2 years it is very doubtful if we would want to go back." The hard work is relieved by the stories of the crew when they return from service. One night, the lifeboat had been out for 6'/2 hours and had just returned when it was called out again to search for a missing yacht, overdue in the fog. Working in conjunction with the Whitby lifeboat, the Staithes boat was running down her radar echoes.

She found the yacht, anchored in a position which would soon be dangerous in the heavy swell with the ebbing tide. One of the crew went on board, knocked on the cabin door and said "Excuse me, do you want to beOn another long search in sub-zero temperatures the lifeboat returned to refuel. Somebody had made hot soup for the crew. "Great, just what I wanted", said the helmsman and proceeded to pour the soup into his gloves.

It was a service in sub-zero temperatures that proved the most worrying day in David Case's 18 years as honorary secretary at Wells.

"I had to ask David, the coxswain, if he would launch into a blizzard of Force 9 to 11 to carry out a service 15 miles offshore.

We had discussed this possibility 10 years before and he said 'We will always have a go' but it didn't make it any easier to ask him to do so." The Wells lifeboat was out from 1024 to 2153 and by the time they returned the crew were so cold that they had to be lifted ashore from the lifeboat.

"The whole time of the service was full of thoughts of the eight men who were all personal friends of some long standing and whom 1 had asked to carry out the service in those horrible conditions. We were hanging on every word on the radio until the time when we welcomed them ashore and couldn't resist flinging arms around each one." Like Clem James, David Case had been involved in the lifeboat service for some years before he became honorarysecretary. He saw service in the Royal Navy during the war on Atlantic and Russian convoy escorts and later on Channel Convoy Destroyer Escorts.

Since the war he has been a chartered surveyor and became a lifeboat launcher in 1953. After 11 years as launcher he joined the lifeboat crew for 5 years and was on a service which resulted in a vellum award for the coxswain. Having been honorary secretary since 1969, David Case is in a good position to comment on the changes—good and bad—to the RNLI. He sees the vast improvement in boats and equipment as the main change for the better. From an honorary secretary's standpoint, the least enjoyable thing has been the "increasing flow of bumph" and the bureaucracy. This is something which affects all honorary secretaries and some appoint a station administration officer to help lighten the burden of paper. But why should there be an increase in a voluntary organisation which tries to steer away from bureaucracy? This is a problem of which Admiral Graham is well aware."Some of ihe paperwork is inflicted on us by legislation, such as the Health and Safety at Work Act. The recent decision by the Inland Revenue to tax the lifeboatmen's service allowance at source has also made life difficult, though we are working on this with officials at the Revenue.

Another factor is the requirement for strict medical standards and yet another is the increasing complexity of modern lifeboats and their equipment. Ideally, I would like to see a paperless lifeboat service, perhaps using computer terminals to pass information, but this is bound to be some years away." Paperwork is also one of Captain Brian Atkinson's pet hates. After 10 years at sea in Shell tankers and the past 17 years as Aberdeen Harbourmaster, he is a man who enjoys the 'sharp end' of the lifeboat service. Being in the harbour office has considerable advantages.

"You are aware of what is going on in the whole port network and can get jobs done which might otherwise take a lot longer." The pattern of lifeboat work at Aberdeen has been influenced by the oil industry. The increase in oil related commercial traffic has not created many additional casualties (though there have been services to helicopters and rig support vessels) but the very presence of the extra ships and helicopters has helped to create a safer environment.

"Rescue is not the monopoly of the lifeboat," says Captain Atkinson, "if there's somebody else on the spot, they can often get on with the job." Commercial vessels have given him both his most rewarding and most difficult situations as honorary secretary.

In 1974 the trawler Netta Croan was on fire and steaming, out of control, in circles. The Aberdeen lifeboat was then a 52 ft Barnett with a maximum speed of 9 knots and could not catch the blazing ship as she careered along.

Worrying time By fine seamanship, and at great risk, the lifeboat cut across the trawler's path to come alongside and snatch her crew to safety.

Two years later another trawler, the Karemma, had lost steerage and was drifting towards Aberdeen beach in very rough seas. The lifeboat went into the shallow, confused water to make three separate approaches to the trawler and take off the five man crew. It was a very worrying time for those ashore, particularly seamen who always look for sea room and depth of water, yet saw the lifeboat going into a situation where she was denied both.

Captain Atkinson says the least enjoyable part of being honorary secretary is asking the crew to attend a call in extreme weather conditions. Of course, the honorary secretary can also tell thecrew not to launch. Former Lytham St Annes honorary secretary, John Kennedy, once forbade his station mechanic and another crew member to launch an eight foot dinghy to a man who had leapt into the river estuary on a six knot ebb tide in a full south west gale.

The response? "I was politely told by George to, in effect, go and consult a good taxidermist!" Perhaps a line should be added to the honorary secretary's job description: Ability to understand seamanlike language essential!.