Herald of Disaster
6th March, 1987. Cross-channel ferry Herald of Free Enterprise left Zeebrugge for Dover with over 500 passengers and crew aboard. Within minutes, it capsized. Over 190 people lost their lives. Mixing evidence given at the subsequent inquest with the story of a fictional family of day trippers, Stephen Phelps' documentary drama asks whether this was a freak accident or a disaster waiting to happen.
Last Saturday, the drama-documentary play, “Herald of Disaster” was broadcast on BBC Radio 4:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b08g2r99
The Herald of Free Enterprise was a roll-on roll-off ferry operating between Dover and Zeebrugge. That afternoon the vessel was at about 40% capacity, mostly carrying passengers from the UK. It set off without the bow doors being closed and became unstable.
Vehicles rolled from port to starboard and back. The ship capsized on to its port side on a sandbank, all its lights out, in just 90 seconds. There was not enough time to send an SOS signal, nor to lower the lifeboats or deploy life jackets.
In the formal inquiry that followed, blame was placed on assistant boatswain Mark Stanley for not closing the bow doors. First officer Leslie Sabel was also blamed for not making sure they were closed while the captain David Lewry was criticised for leaving port without checking the doors had been shut.
Part of the drama is taken verbatim from the inquiry that followed, with official evidence, and part centres on a fictional family and groups (like the truckers) among the passengers. It effectively shows the nightmare situation passengers and crew found themselves in when the stricken vessel was on its side. Stairs became vertical shafts. Doors were in what had become ceilings or floors. And there were no lights, but the influx water, cold, was swilling around the survivors, reducing their chances of survival as they struggled to escape from this trap.
The one and only stroke of luck was that the ship was resting on a sandbank - which undoubtedly saved hundreds of lives.
The inquiry in the drama also brings out that these ferries were rushing back and forth across the Channel, and their captains were under intense pressure not to delay and check everything, but under management's directive that running late could lead to reprimands.
This also meant that there wasn’t even a proper list of people on board ("the manifest") because that counting people in cars would have taken too long , and delayed departure. Profit was the key: speedy turn-around, and cutting corners.
Charles Arthur (https://medium.com/@charlesarthur/the-herald-of-disaster-or-why-you-should-welcome-regulations-fbaaeaed17e5) sees this as part of the general social culture of the time:
"In March 1987, the UK was in the midst of the revolution triggered by Margaret Thatcher’s privatisation agenda; British Telecom, formerly nationally owned, had been sold off in 1984, as the first big and noticeable one; British Gas had gone towards the end of 1986. The national mood was one of watchfulness: how would privatisation (and “free enterprise”) change the way these businesses behaved?"
"As the calamity, and deaths, showed, there were limits to what free enterprise could do for you — and what it was prepared to do for you, which could amount to 'not much, if it involves effort and cost'."
BBC News also recounted the survivors stories:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-39116394
Gillian Lashbrooke was one of the first people to know something was wrong. She was 16 years old. Her mother, stepfather and uncle died in the accident while she and her three stepbrothers survived.
"I was outside on the deck when it started, I was looking over the rail into the water. The water was getting further away, at first I thought I was imagining it. The ship just tilted over and I was flung backwards and was knocked unconscious for a little while and - when I came round - I was lying on the seats. But they were in the wrong place because the ship had gone on its side - so the floor was now like a wall. I tried to climb up the seating like a ladder but I couldn't. All I wanted to do was get back inside to my mum."
Eventually she jumped into the sea.
"I was wearing long boots and a denim coat, they were so heavy they were dragging me down. I struggled to take off my boots and coat while I was still trying to swim. I thought I'd try to swim back to land. But it was so cold and the waves were so ferocious. I swam back to the boat and managed to hook my skirt on to a thing sticking out from the boat because the waves were dragging me down, and I needed to stay up."
"There was a woman near me, and she was holding a little girl above the water. Helicopters were overhead, but they couldn't see us. So I flung myself back into the sea and there was a fishing boat. The woman kept screaming 'don't leave me to die' and I shouted back I would tell rescuers where she was. I don't know what happened to the woman or the little girl. I tried to find out and I put out an appeal. I'm fairly sure they both died."
"People in a fishing boat rescued me. Then I was taken to land and an ambulance took me to hospital. That night I became an adult. I washed my clothes out in the sink and put them on a radiator to dry. I prayed for my mum, hoping I was praying for her and not speaking to her."
The following day Ms Lashbrooke and her stepbrothers were told their parents were dead. They were taken to a makeshift mortuary in a gym.
"I saw my dad as soon as I walked in. I saw children dead and laid out. They were children I'd seen alive the evening before. It didn't seem real they were dead. Then my brother found my mum. I couldn't believe I was looking at my mum. I loved her so much and she was dead in front of me. She wasn't just my mum, she was my best friend. The night before, she'd given me some money just before I went on deck and said 'get something to eat love, and I'll see you in a minute'. "That minute never came. That was the last time I saw her."
The ship's owner Townsend Thoresen was criticised for its "staggering complacency". New rules were brought into force, such as installing emergency lighting, CCTV to monitor critical areas of the ferry, and windows that could be broken using a hammer.
For Those in Peril on the Sea
Bill McCrea was chaplain to the Merchant Navy and National Sea Training College and officiated at four of the funerals. He said the disaster tested his ministry to the limit.
"It was an incredible shock to my system and I was very anxious. I have dealt with individual loss of life with seafarers' families over the years, but so many people lost their lives that night. I wanted to do the right things. Who can train you for that? You depend upon the grace of God."
"I knew some of the men who died very well, including a young fellow who was 17. It was his first posting as a seafarer. He'd only just finished his college course. I conducted his funeral service, comforting his family as I, too, struggled to come to terms with the devastating loss. As much as I ministered to his family, they ministered to me too."
One woman had to wait six weeks before they found her husband's body. I gave her all the support I could during that time.
"I also supported passengers who had survived. I met a woman on one of my hospital visits, she lost her husband that night. She told me the only reason she survived was that a truck driver helped keep her awake by pinching her. There were a lot of heroic acts that went on that night."
Gillian Lashbrooke was one of the first people to know something was wrong. She was 16 years old. Her mother, stepfather and uncle died in the accident while she and her three stepbrothers survived.
"I was outside on the deck when it started, I was looking over the rail into the water. The water was getting further away, at first I thought I was imagining it. The ship just tilted over and I was flung backwards and was knocked unconscious for a little while and - when I came round - I was lying on the seats. But they were in the wrong place because the ship had gone on its side - so the floor was now like a wall. I tried to climb up the seating like a ladder but I couldn't. All I wanted to do was get back inside to my mum."
Eventually she jumped into the sea.
"I was wearing long boots and a denim coat, they were so heavy they were dragging me down. I struggled to take off my boots and coat while I was still trying to swim. I thought I'd try to swim back to land. But it was so cold and the waves were so ferocious. I swam back to the boat and managed to hook my skirt on to a thing sticking out from the boat because the waves were dragging me down, and I needed to stay up."
"There was a woman near me, and she was holding a little girl above the water. Helicopters were overhead, but they couldn't see us. So I flung myself back into the sea and there was a fishing boat. The woman kept screaming 'don't leave me to die' and I shouted back I would tell rescuers where she was. I don't know what happened to the woman or the little girl. I tried to find out and I put out an appeal. I'm fairly sure they both died."
"People in a fishing boat rescued me. Then I was taken to land and an ambulance took me to hospital. That night I became an adult. I washed my clothes out in the sink and put them on a radiator to dry. I prayed for my mum, hoping I was praying for her and not speaking to her."
The following day Ms Lashbrooke and her stepbrothers were told their parents were dead. They were taken to a makeshift mortuary in a gym.
"I saw my dad as soon as I walked in. I saw children dead and laid out. They were children I'd seen alive the evening before. It didn't seem real they were dead. Then my brother found my mum. I couldn't believe I was looking at my mum. I loved her so much and she was dead in front of me. She wasn't just my mum, she was my best friend. The night before, she'd given me some money just before I went on deck and said 'get something to eat love, and I'll see you in a minute'. "That minute never came. That was the last time I saw her."
The ship's owner Townsend Thoresen was criticised for its "staggering complacency". New rules were brought into force, such as installing emergency lighting, CCTV to monitor critical areas of the ferry, and windows that could be broken using a hammer.
For Those in Peril on the Sea
Bill McCrea was chaplain to the Merchant Navy and National Sea Training College and officiated at four of the funerals. He said the disaster tested his ministry to the limit.
"It was an incredible shock to my system and I was very anxious. I have dealt with individual loss of life with seafarers' families over the years, but so many people lost their lives that night. I wanted to do the right things. Who can train you for that? You depend upon the grace of God."
"I knew some of the men who died very well, including a young fellow who was 17. It was his first posting as a seafarer. He'd only just finished his college course. I conducted his funeral service, comforting his family as I, too, struggled to come to terms with the devastating loss. As much as I ministered to his family, they ministered to me too."
One woman had to wait six weeks before they found her husband's body. I gave her all the support I could during that time.
"I also supported passengers who had survived. I met a woman on one of my hospital visits, she lost her husband that night. She told me the only reason she survived was that a truck driver helped keep her awake by pinching her. There were a lot of heroic acts that went on that night."
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1 comment:
"In March 1987, the UK was in the midst of the revolution triggered by Margaret Thatcher’s privatisation agenda; British Telecom, formerly nationally owned, had been sold off in 1984, as the first big and noticeable one; British Gas had gone towards the end of 1986. The national mood was one of watchfulness: how would privatisation (and “free enterprise”) change the way these businesses behaved?"
And of course, to add a further turn of the screw, Townsend Thoresen were competing for Channel traffic against Sealink, a division of the state-owned British Rail.
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