A Night that None of Us Will Forget by Lambert Knight
The young yachtsman Lambert Knight joined Alan Villiers for Parma's stormy passage from Australia to England in 1932. This excerpt from his journal describes the worst blow their captain Reuben de Cloux had experienced in many roundings of Cape Hom. April 5, Tuesday:
Course E Dist. 239 Started out with moderate west, becoming strong in the afternoon, accompanied by heavy snow squalls. A heavy sea was also making up. About sundown, the breeze, which had been blowing about sixty miles in the afternoon, increased, and the glass, which had been very low, continued to fall to about 28.1. At sundown the squalls came more often and with much greater fury. We were running along under lower topsails, main upper topsail and foresail , and making about thirteen knots . The breeze was picking up rapidly. It was to be a night that none of us will forget. Our watch was standing under the fo'c'sle head waiting for the order to take in the foresail and also trying to get out of the snow and sleet. It was very black to windward, and the seas were getting very high, the tops breaking off flying along in great white streaks. All at once a tremendous sea lifted our stern high in the air and we were sent driving ahead at great speed. She kept on going and drove her bow right under, taking much water over the fo'c'sle head . It came over our heads and right down in front us us, just as if we were under a waterfall. This slowed us up, and when the second sea came along, it broke high over the poop with a tremendous crash, and drove tons of water the whole length of the ship. She began to settle to starboard , and kept on going over, and going over, and then lay there as if she were never coming up again. We scrambled out as best we could and tried to get to the rigging, many of us believing that she was going over. The wind was, by this time, terrific, and sleet and water were driving across us in a great sheet. It was blowing somewhere around a hundred miles an hour by now. The ship broached to, coming more broadside to the seas. The foresail carried away with an awful crash and thrashing. (Foresail was almost new and cost about four hundred dollars. It was of 00 storm canvas with heavy wire bolt ropes.) We began to right up and move again. We tried to get in what was left of the foresail. In the rigging everything was thrashing around wildly, and sparks were flying in a regular fireworks display, as the heavy wire and chains on the foresail were thrashing around. Everything was fouled up and nothing could be done about it. We were going to try to get in the
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Lat. 53 S Long. 153 W
The big bark photographed by Lambert Knight in the South Atlantic from one of Parma's boats-in calmer weather. main upper topsail, when that also blew out. In trying to help the boys on deck, the second mate was swept over the side by a huge sea. He was washed clear of everything, but as the poop swept by, he caught the mizzen braces and was dragged aboard . One of the boys also had a very close call, hanging onto a wire, with his feet and legs out over the rail . He had all he could do to hold his breath long enough and hang on , until the sea had swept over him . It seemed dangerous to try running any more, and so, for the first time in his thirty years of experience, the Skipper decided to heave to. The glass in the port binnacle was broken, so there was no light on the compass, another reason for heaving to. (The next morning the Skipper cut a piece of glass to fix up the binnacle, using Mrs. Villiers' engagement ring for a glass cutter.) We were bracing the yards around to heave to under lower topsails on the port tack. The Skipper hurt his leg badly when he was thrown bodily over the brace winch, which had gotten out of control, and the long iron handle was spinning madly around . It's a wonder he wasn't killed. We finally got her around and lay almost in the trough of the seas, heading it just a little. We would quiver from stem to stern as the huge seas struck us and crashed down on our deck. Then we would fall off and roll madly in the trough. There was nothing more we could do. It seemed to be up to her now. We got the Skipper and Second Mate to their bunks, and the whole crew came aft, where the Skipper gave them whiskey, which certainly hit the right spot, for we were soaked through and shivering. We had had four men at the wheel , but now we had the wheel lashed hard to port, with two men standing
by in case it should chafe and break loose. We continued to stand watches through the night, the free watch trying to get some rest in the sail locker adjoining the cabin companionway. This was awash, and there were only a few dry spots on top of some old sails. The cabin had also had plenty of water, but we kept bailing this out. It was by this time a full gale, and huge seas were breaking across us almost constantly. Our greatest concern was the hatches . If the coverings should be washed off, we were through . It was impossible now to go on deck, but we could crawl out along the storm bridge. The heavy iron fastening across the top of number three (Midship) hatch had already been swept away. All that remained were the tarpaulins before the hatch covers would go and the vessel fill. We spent a very anxious night. Things did not seem to get any better. It was impossible to stand outside. We had to crawl around hanging onto things. One sea had broken across the poop and washed away our starboard compass . I was at the wheel with three others when the compasses went. We could then see nothing but a faint light from the charthouse. It was some sensation . We didn't know what was going on on deck, and couldn't see the sails or anything. Just driving ahead in total blackness, and trying to steer by the way we felt the wind coming from. Things certainly were hanging in the balance, with the odds sometimes seeming against us. Everyone who was not on duty was now guddled in the officers' mess room and were taking it very calmly. The deckhouses were taking a terrible washing, and it seemed as if we might lose them . As it was, the mid-ship house was completely washed out, the seas having broken in the door and tom out all partitions, cupboards, etc. The bunks in the apprentice part were tom out and all the gear washed away. I had quite a good look at things, as, in the midst of it, I had to go forward and try to find my flashlight. It was the only one aboard, as the Second Mate had lost his when he went overboard. The only way into the fo'c'sle was through the skylight. The place was certainly a mess. All loose articles from the starboard side had been thrown onto the floor and were washing around in the water. I imagine they went when she took the first big list to port, when she broached to. Anyway, my flashlight had apparently gone with the rest. The seas were smashing up against the side and making the whole place tremble. It was important to get the light, as the light on our remaining compass had failed and we could not get it started again . But there was nothing for it. It had gone in the drink with the rest. <t SEA HIS10RY, FALL 1984