Death of a Supertanker (18 page)

When the court resumed for the second day of the enquiry, Cavalho, recalled at Goodbody’s request, was first to enter the witness box.

‘In your evidence yesterday,’ began Goodbody, smiling in a most friendly way, ‘you said that while you were on lookout duty in the fog there were two trawlers on the starboard bow of
Ocean
Mammoth
?’

‘Yes, sir’

‘You also said that at no time could you see anything because the fog was so thick. Is that correct?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Did you that morning look into the radar displays?’

‘No, sir. I was lookout man on the starboard wing.’

‘In your statement at the preliminary enquiry you said you heard a long blast followed by two short blasts from the first trawler. Is that correct?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What did that signal mean to you?’

‘I know this signal to be fog signal for trawler with nets in the water. I am fisherman before, sir. In Cape Verde Islands.’ Cavalho’s eyes glowed with pride.

‘Yes, and I’ve no doubt an excellent one.’ Goodbody, nodding in affirmation, smiled engagingly at the quartermaster. ‘And the second trawler – what signals did you hear from her?’

Cavalho considered the question. ‘Nothing, sir. She makes no signal.’

‘So you could see nothing because of the fog, and no sound came from the second trawler. Is that right?’

‘It is right, sir.’

‘Then tell me, Mr Cavalho’ – again the genial smile – ‘How did you know there
was
a second trawler?’

‘The chief officer tell me. He see it on radar. He asks me, “You hear signal from this trawler?” I tell him I hear nothing. He says, “Okay. Trawler has radar. He won’t worry to make signal if he
sees other ship.”’

Mr Goodbody turned for a moment towards the Chairman and Assessors, a look of mild surprise on his face. ‘So the chief officer told you there was a second trawler on the starboard bow, but at no time did you see or hear it. Is that correct?’

Cavalho’s expression suggested that an important truth had been revealed to him. ‘It is right. I don’t see or hear it.’

‘And the big ship you spoke of yesterday – the ship that passed down the port side – before you altered course for the trawlers. You said it was about two miles away. How did you know it was two miles?’

‘The chief officer tells me, sir. He says two miles.’

Goodbody was silent, nodding at the quartermaster. ‘I see. The chief officer told you,’ he repeated slowly, before turning to face the Chairman. ‘No more questions, Your Worship.’

Cavalho was told he could stand down.

At Goodbody’s request Fernandez was then recalled.

The quartermaster walked briskly to the witness box. Once in it he looked round the court with easy familiarity, bowing to the Chairman and Assessors.

Goodbody rose with a reassuring smile to cross-examine.

‘In your evidence yesterday you told the court how you had, during the morning watch of 29 October, altered course for three ships. First for the big ship approaching from ahead, then for the first trawler on the starboard bow, and later for a second trawler on the starboard bow. Is that correct?’

‘Yes. It is correct.’

‘Were each of the alterations by
Ocean
Mammoth
to starboard?’

‘Yes. Every time to starboard, sir.’

‘On several occasions in your evidence yesterday you used the word “easy” in relation to wheel orders and alterations of course. When you made these alterations to starboard and later back to port were they all on the “easy” basis?’

‘Yes. They were.’

‘I see. Now in your evidence yesterday, towards the end, you said you were worried that morning. That it was not good to be in the wheelhouse because, with the windows shut and the fog, you could not see or hear the other ships. Is that correct?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Did you at any time that morning look into the radar displays?’

‘No. This is not a duty for the quartermaster.’ Fernandez’s tone
implied that such a suggestion was highly improper.

‘So you could not see or hear other ships, and you did not look into any radar displays?’

‘Correct, sir.’

‘How then did you know about the big ship ahead and the two trawlers to starboard for which you altered course?’

Fernandez’s friendly face clouded. ‘The chief officer tells me, sir. He sees with radar.’

‘And if he had not told you, would you have known they were there?’

Fernandez hesitated. ‘No, sir.’

Goodbody consulted his notes, put them down, jangled some coins in his trouser pocket with one hand, while the other rested on the table at which he stood. He looked up suddenly at the quartermaster and his manner was now stern. ‘You told the court yesterday that you heard the chief officer report the fog to the Captain by telephone. You told us of a number of different things you heard the chief officer say. Is that correct?’

‘It is correct, sir.’

‘When the chief officer was speaking into that telephone you were at the wheel?’

‘Yes.’

‘The telephone he was using was on the console in front of – and to the right of – the steering position. Is that correct?’

‘It is correct, sir.’

‘And the distance between the steering position and that telephone was about five metres, was it not?’

‘I think it must be five metres.’

‘Could you hear everything the chief officer said?’

‘Yes. Everything.’

‘How did you know he was talking to the Captain?’

‘I hear him say “Captain”, three, four times.’

Goodbody looked into the far corner of the court and half-closed his eyes as if he were focusing on a distant object. He took his hand from his trouser pocket and pinched his nostrils before looking once more at Fernandez. ‘You also told the court that you heard the chief officer telephone Mr Benson to tell him the ship was in fog. Can you tell the court what Mr Benson said in reply?’

Fernandez shook his head. ‘It is not possible, sir. I only hear what the chief officer say.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Goodbody smiled understandingly. ‘So you could not hear what the Captain said when the chief officer telephoned him?’

‘No, sir. It is not possible.’

‘When you heard the chief officer making that report to the Captain he was standing at the console, about five metres from where you stood at the steering position. Is that correct?’

‘Yes. It is correct.’

‘It was dark in the wheelhouse, was it not?’

‘Yes, dark.’

‘Could you see the chief officer?’

‘If I look maybe I see his dark shape by the console. I know this must be chief officer.’

‘Just a dark shape. Was his back to you?’

‘I am watching the steering compass. It is dark. How can I say?’

‘Could you, in that dark light, see the telephone he was using?’

‘No, sir. It is not possible. But I hear him dialling.’

‘So all you were aware of was the dark shape of the chief officer at the console, and the sound of dialling and of his voice speaking into a telephone.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Did you have any means of knowing whether the telephone he was speaking into was connected to the Captain’s telephone?’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Well, Mr Fernandez, it is possible to pick up a telephone, to dial, and to speak into it without being connected to anyone at the other end. Is it not?’

‘But I hear the chief officer speaking to Captain, sir.’

‘Yes. Indeed. But you have said you did not hear the Captain, and that it was dark, and you had no means of knowing if the phone on the console had made connection with the phone in the Captain’s cabin. Is that correct?’

Fernandez looked across to where the chief officer was sitting and his eyes seemed to signal an apology. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said in a low voice.

‘Thank you, Mr Fernandez,’ said Goodbody. ‘No further questions, Your Worship.’ Ohlsson was frowning at the pad on which he was making a note, and Lourens was looking at Fernandez with a more than usually mournful expression.

Meanwhile, Foley’s counsel, Arnold Kahn, had risen to cross-examine the quartermaster. Large horn-rimmed spectacles and
prominent ears gave him an expression that was slightly owl-like, and this was heightened by the way in which his small wiry figure bobbed from time to time as he shifted weight from the good leg to the lame one.

‘You said in your evidence yesterday that you were late in relieving Quartermaster Gomez – that you did not check the course being steered when you first reached the wheelhouse. Is this correct?’ Kahn’s manner was nervous, hesitant.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘When did you check the course?’

‘When the chief officer tells me to take the wheel. Before we alter for the big ship coming up ahead.’

‘How long after you first arrived in the wheelhouse did you take the wheel?’

Fernandez appeared to give the matter some thought, counting with his fingers and looking at the ceiling as if for inspiration. ‘Must be ten/twelve minutes. First I fetch jersey for the chief officer. Then he put me on bridge wing lookout. Then I make coffee. Afterwards I take wheel.’

‘And you had come up ten minutes late. So that makes it about twenty minutes past four o’clock when you first checked the course. Would you agree with that?’

‘Yes, sir. About twenty minutes after four.’

Kahn shifted his weight from one foot to the other and pulled nervously at the lobe of his left ear. ‘Quartermaster Gomez has told the court that he cannot remember what course he was steering when he left the wheelhouse soon after four o’clock to go below to call you. You told the court yesterday that, after he’d called you, you went to the wheelhouse and he to his cabin. Is that so?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he at any time – in your cabin, or elsewhere – tell you the course being steered when he left the bridge with the ship on auto-steering?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Do you know what course was being steered when Gomez left the bridge?’

‘Must be two-six-seven, sir.’

‘Why “must be”?’

‘I find two-six-seven on course-indicator when I take the wheel. Also ship’s head is on two-six-seven.’

‘Quite so. But can you say what the course was and what figures were on the indicator at four o’clock – when Mr Foley handed over the watch?’

‘No, sir.’

‘In fact you only know what figures were on the indicator – and what course the ship was steering – at about twenty minutes past four. Is that not so?’

‘Yes. It is so.’ Fernandez nodded unhappily at this further incontestable truth.

Kahn informed the Chairman that he had no further questions to ask and the witness stood down.

The Chairman then adjourned the enquiry until 2.15 p.m.

On resumption of the enquiry after lunch Kahn asked for the recall of Cavalho.

‘You were standby man during the first part of the morning watch on 29 October?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What are the duties of the standby man?’

‘If the officer of watch wants extra hand for anything, he calls standby man.’

‘To do what sort of things?’

‘Sometime for lookout. Sometime to clean and polish around wheelhouse and chartroom. Sometime to help officer check compass, check clocks. Sometime to make coffee for wheelhouse. Sometime to fetch or take something from engineroom, radio office, pantry. Any place. Sometime to take message or radio signal to wheelhouse or Captain. Many things like this.’

‘Where do you wait until you’re wanted?’

‘If near the land, in recreation room on Deck One.’

‘What do you do there when you’re not busy?’

‘Sometime read book, or write letter, or listen to music. Hi-fi you know. Sometime just sit to think.’ Cavalho grinned. ‘
Sometime
sleep till telephone rings.’

‘You are called by telephone, are you?’

‘Yes. By telephone.’

Kahn said he had no more questions and the witness stood down.

To Captain Crutchley, in a court of law for the first time, the proceedings were entirely strange and much of the cross-examination incomprehensible. The only part of it so far which seemed relevant to the charge against him was Goodbody’s attempt to throw doubt on Fernandez’s evidence about the telephone conversation. To what extent that had impressed the court he had no way of knowing. Crutchley was impatient to get on with the main business of the enquiry. The testimony of the minor witnesses seemed irrelevant. Why didn’t the court get down to the heart of the matter right away? Put Jarrett in the witness box first. He was, or should have been, the major culprit. The ship had run aground in his watch. For more than an hour and a half before that he’d been in sole charge. Why not hear his story first? And Foley’s. There was another man who’d had a good deal to do with what had happened. The court should surely have heard his evidence early on. Sort out the story that he’d given Jarrett the incorrect course when handing over. Find out what he was doing in the chartroom before the ship struck. Why wasn’t he heard before the quartermaster, the lookout man, the light-keeper and those others?

At lunch that day Goodbody had enjoined patience. ‘A most interesting situation is developing, my dear Captain. Lourens has something up his sleeve, young Kahn smells a rat somewhere, and poor Fernandez has been sunk with all flags flying. Frans Lourens didn’t like that one little bit, you know. Nor did that person Ohlsson. But of course he wouldn’t. No, it’s coming along splendidly. What you call “trivial evidence” is always heard first. But it’s by no means trivial. Dear me no. Just you wait and see. I’ve had a chat with Kahn. He will call Foley to the box after lunch. That should see us through to the adjournment.’ After that Goodbody had launched into a dissertation on cheese soufflés, and Crutchley had been unable to get anything more from him about the enquiry.

Putting aside these thoughts, he once more concentrated on the proceedings, sitting always with his back half-turned so that he
did not have to see either Jarrett or Foley who were some little distance away on his right. He had ignored them both ever since the preliminary enquiry.

To Sandy, sitting well back in court, the proceedings were absorbingly interesting. She didn’t understand the legal procedures, nor could she appreciate the tactical subtleties of the various counsel as they examined and cross-examined, but she sensed – perhaps it was her feminine intuition – that the drift of the cross-examination was against Jarrett. If it was against him, she assumed it must be good for her husband and that helped relieve anxiety.

Slowly, painfully slowly, she was re-establishing her relationship with him. The traumatic experiences of the shipwreck and the storm had helped: since then they had, little by little, drawn closer together. She’d had to work hard at it. He’d been stern and unforgiving, deeply hurt, very conscious of the wrong done him; whereas she was aware that she was entirely to blame. At times when he rebuffed her she would cry herself to sleep, but she had never given up. Couldn’t he see, she would ask herself, her affair with Jarrett for what it was? Proximity, mutual attraction, opportunity. Didn’t he understand what a powerful though transitory weapon sex was? That when a man and woman with compatible chemistry were thrown together something was almost bound to happen, given the opportunity? Of course it was adultery; of course it was disloyal; but it was happening every day to thousands of people. Couldn’t he accept the reality of that and forgive?

As for Freeman Jarrett – well, that was all over. Once she’d learnt he was doing his best to put the blame for the stranding on her husband, whatever feelings she’d had for him – and they were always more physical than emotional – had gone. Not that she hated him. That was too strong a word. What she felt was something closer to contempt. He was no longer the strong compelling, attractive man, but a conceited, self-seeking individual who was determined to save his own skin at her husband’s expense. Jarrett was, she reflected, a strange contradiction. It was he who had gone into the sea off Durban when the wire parted and swept Cadet Price over the side; it was he who, during the gale, had searched in the darkness for Malim and the crewman in the faint hope of finding them alive. And there had been no
audience then, except Fernandez. Yes – Freeman Jarrett
was
a strange contradiction and perhaps that was why she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. Or was it because they had been so important to each other, even if only for a very short time?

Whatever it was, it was all over now. She wanted Jarrett to lose and George to win. However mixed-up she may have been, she was sure of that. And George so badly needed support, even if he pretended he didn’t. She could see that he was desperately worried and uncertain about the outcome of the enquiry. To a far greater extent than she believed was necessary, since it was Jarrett who’d been on watch in the hour and a half before the ship ran aground, even if Foley had made a mistake in handing over the course – something he strenuously denied.

She could not help wondering what Jarrett felt about all that had happened; the sudden end to their relationship, and the awful worry of the enquiry with himself as a central figure. He was such an aggressively self-confident man, so certain always that he was right, that the situation for him must be a particularly trying one. To have his conduct, skill and judgement publicly questioned would, she believed, hurt him more than most men. And there was Captain Crutchley – that stern, unapproachable man of whom she had seen so little during the voyage, and with whom communication had been so difficult when she had. She felt dreadfully sorry for him. In spite of his reserved, highly formal manner, he had the reputation of being a fine seaman and a conscientious Master. She realized how galling it must be for a man like that to stand charged with ‘wrongful act or default and gross negligence’; yet the fact remained that throughout the fog, right up to the time of the stranding, he’d not been on the bridge.

She knew it hurt her husband deeply that the Captain had cut him since the preliminary enquiry, scarcely acknowledging his attempts at polite greeting outside the courtroom. Of course Foley and Jarrett ignored each other but there were good reasons for that, as she well knew. She and Jarrett had had no contact since leaving the wreck, other than glimpses of each other entering and leaving court. He was always polite on these occasions, though in a rather distant way. Occasionally in court she would see him turn and look back into the public gallery, but if their eyes met neither gave any sign of recognition.

On the second afternoon of the enquiry she was getting used to the atmosphere of the court, beginning to identify those involved
and their roles and to sense the developing drama. She’d already established likes and dislikes. She admired Arnold Kahn whom she’d met several times during the weeks since the preliminary enquiry, and she was glad he was her husband’s counsel. She knew that he was regarded as one of the brighter men at the Cape Town Bar in spite of his apparent youth, frailty and
helplessness.
Another man she liked was James Goodbody whom she described to her husband as ‘a lovely, big, huggable sort of man’. She’d become aware that he was anti-Jarrett and that commended him. She mistrusted Dirk Ohlsson, no doubt because he was Jarrett’s counsel, and described him as ‘that man with the sly, foxy look’.

She couldn’t make up her mind about Frans Lourens, but decided he was probably neutral. The Chairman struck her as stern but just and she thought of him as a rugged, attractive man – her sort of man. The two Assessors hadn’t yet said a word, so they were for her enigmas. Jerome Bassett, counsel for the company, had only spoken once and she had found him pompous.

Though what went on in court was interesting and even exciting in a strange way, she suffered from loneliness. There was no one with whom she could share the experience, no one with whom to exchange whispered confidences. The only person in the public gallery she’d recognized was a man sitting at the back. On the first morning she’d seen him, she thought he looked familiar but couldn’t place him. During the lunch adjournment that day he had spoken to her and she’d realized he was Piet Pieterse, the steward who’d joined
Ocean
Mammoth
the day before sailing from Durban. She had not really been aware of him until the gale when he’d brought blankets, pillows and food to the women in the chartroom. She remembered how he had laughed and joked in an effort to raise their spirits, and how grateful they’d been.

When they met outside the court she asked him what he was doing. He said he was looking for work but it was not easy to find because of unemployment. She asked him why he was at the enquiry and he said, ‘Nothing, madam. Just passing the time, you know. It was my first job in a ship. After three days we got wrecked. Then there’s the gale and the helicopter comes and takes us off. Now there’s this court of enquiry. It’s been a fantastic experience. I thought I better see it through. Like watching the
big picture from the beginning to the end.’

She smiled. ‘Of course. I understand. It is interesting. I just wish my husband wasn’t involved.’

And he had said, ‘Yes, madam. That’s no joke for him, is it?’

Since then they had done no more than exchange smiles.

After Cavalho’s departure from the witness box, Lourens informed the Chairman that apart from Ernst Rohrbach – the electronics expert who would not be available until the Thursday – he had no further witnesses.

Kahn asked leave to call the second officer. Foley made for the witness box, walking with a slight stoop, his dark grey suit matching the shadows under his eyes. When he had taken the oath and testified that the statement handed to him was the one he’d sworn at the preliminary enquiry, Kahn began his
examination
.

In response to his counsel’s questions, Foley gave a brief, matter-of-fact account of events leading up to the stranding. He confirmed that he had been officer-of-the-watch from midnight to 0400 on 29 October. At 0240 he had obtained and plotted a position by Decca Navigator which showed that the ship had, over the previous hour, been set just over a mile to the
northwest,
that was inshore. A radar bearing showed Cape Agulhas at that time to be bearing 275°, distant 36-5 miles. The ETA for a position 10 miles off Cape Agulhas was 0530, and with the Captain’s approval he had altered course from 264° to 257° to counter a similar set of current over the next three hours.

Soon after midnight he received a meteorological report from the radio officer. He immediately phoned the Captain and told him it contained a fog warning. The Captain had come up to the wheelhouse soon afterwards, remaining there for about fifteen minutes before going below.

At five minutes to four he had been relieved by the chief officer to whom he’d handed over course and speed, details of traffic in the vicinity, and other routine information. He had told him of the fog warning, and the instructions in the night order book that the Captain was to be called in the event of fog and for the alteration of course off Cape Agulhas. He had then gone to the chartroom, established the ship’s position by Decca Navigator at 0400, plotted the position on the chart and found that the course made good since 0240 was 261° which was correct for the ETA
position. Throughout his watch the Decca Navigator and both radar sets had functioned satisfactorily.

Kahn then questioned him about his movements after leaving the wheelhouse at 0400. Foley said he had gone to his cabin, undressed and got into bed. About an hour later – he was uncertain of the exact time – he got up because he couldn’t sleep. He’d slipped on some clothes, gone up to the lower bridge deck and found that the ship was in fog. He had been surprised that no siren was sounding, but was not alarmed since he thought the Captain was on the bridge. Some time later he noticed that the ship was steering well to the west of the course he had plotted. He assumed they had rounded Cape Agulhas and altered course to the north-west to make for the position off Cape Point. Later when course was altered back to the south-west, he thought they might have been altering course for another ship, but as he’d heard no fog signals and since
Ocean
Mammoth
herself was silent he became uneasy. He went to the chartroom, checked the charted course and noted the time – it was just after 0530. He then switched on the Decca Navigator and found that there was no display. He switched on the echo-sounder and saw that the depth of water was considerably less than it should have been at a safe distance from land. While comparing the readings on the echo-sounder with those on the chart he had noticed that the figure 257° which he’d pencilled against the course line during the middle-watch had been altered to 267°.

He was puzzling things out, trying to make sense of what had happened, when the chief officer came into the chartroom and demanded, ‘in a most aggressive way’, what he was doing there. He had replied that ‘something funny was going on’; the Decca Navigator was dead, the ship was not sounding fog signals, and the figure he’d written against the course line had been altered. He’d then looked at the echo-sounder again and seen with a shock that the depth of water had shoaled to eight fathoms. He had at once drawn Jarrett’s attention to that fact.

Jarrett had shouted ‘Christ’, run back to the Wheelhouse, ordered hard-a-port, pressed the full ahead button and phoned a warning to the engineroom. After that the chief officer had sounded emergency stations on the steam siren and broadcast ‘emergency stations – land close ahead’. Moments later Foley had joined him in the wheelhouse and it was then that Jarrett had told him that both radar units were out of order. At much the
same time the Agulhas light-keeper warned by sound signal and voice radio that the ship was standing into danger. Within minutes
Ocean
Mammoth
had struck. Almost immediately afterwards the Captain arrived on the bridge and ordered fire stations.