> CRISIS ON BOARD

Mayday

mayday

Training and reality

Every seafarer knows that if there's a storm, a fire, a medical emergency, or another calamity at sea, then you're on your own. As instructor Henk Spanjer explains, there's good reason why maritime trainees spend a lot of time studying the topic of safety. And once they’ve started work, safety awareness remains important, in the form of refresher courses and on-board drills. Captain Frans Bos knows all about it.

Henk Spanjer (57)

is an instructor at the Willem Barentsz Maritime Institute on the Dutch island of Terschelling Henk Spanjer teaches radio communication and on-board safety. He’s also a volunteer with the Royal Netherlands Sea Rescue Institution (KNRM).

‘The lessons about on-board safety are very comprehensive: from CPR and fighting fires to personal protective equipment and survival. We start with the theory, and then we carry out realistic drills. For example, we start a fire in a shipping container and send students in there. What should they do first – extinguish the fire or rescue the man who's lying near the fire screaming? We then discuss how things went, which is perhaps the most important part of the drill.

In their second year, just before they go off on work placement, students practice personal survival: what do you do if you have to abandon ship? We practise the reality for that too: here in the harbour, they have to go into the water. That's still a reasonably safe setting, but we also practise out in the North Sea. We drop them overboard and they have to swim to a raft – with instructors and a lifeboat nearby, of course. For some of them, the distance is too far.’

‘THERE’S OFTEN A LACK OF CLEAR COMMANDS’

Clarity ‘We also drill them in managing a crisis, for example a fire in the engine room. One common mistake that I see is the lack of clear commands. The student captain sends the firefighting students to the engine room, without telling them what they’re supposed to do there. That means valuable time is lost. You also see that in the case of genuine crises. That's why I often give real-life examples in my radio communication classes. For example, there was a call from the captain of a shellfish fishing boat that was taking on water. He calmly requested a pump. Twenty minutes later, he made contact again, asking if the pump was almost there. By then, the vessel was already capsizing. His first call hadn't indicated how serious the situation was. That shows how important it is to communicate clearly.’ Practising ‘The best crisis managers don't get carried away by the turmoil that’s going on around them. Rather than responding immediately, they first take a step back. You only know how you'll react when something actually happens. Some people freeze, while others run away. I think it's always really important to frequently review what you've learned. If it's not in your head, you can't make use of it. Regular, realistic drills are also important. And that includes even trying on your survival suit. In a crisis, you don’t want to discover that it doesn’t fit you!’

Frans Bos (62)

Captain with Wagenborg Close to capsizing, damage, shifting cargo, and a huge fire – in 2005 it was crisis after crisis aboard the ro-ro vessel Schieborg. Frans Bos and his crew survived the calamity, but it wasn't easy. 'You just keep going until the bitter end.’

‘We were sailing from Göteborg to Zeebrugge and off the coast of Denmark we ran into some really bad weather. Not the forecast storm, but a hurricane. Even up on the bridge, about 25 metres above the water, I could no longer see over the waves. I'd never seen anything like it in the North Sea before. We were doing only 1 to 2 knots, so as not to sustain any damage. Suddenly, a gigantic mass of water came over us, dislocating the watertight door at the bow of the ship. That was nasty, but I ordered the crew to make it watertight again. Punctured lung Meanwhile, the wind continued to rise, peaking at 52 metres a second – gigantic! As a result, the waves got even higher and at one point the ship heeled right over to port, a full 80 degrees. All I could think was: right yourself, right yourself, right yourself! Fortunately, she did right herself, but the crew were thrown all over the place. The cook was later found to have a punctured lung and the second officer had very serious concussion. Water kept coming in anyway, causing damage to the PLC system too, preventing us from ballasting, for example. A few hours later, when everything had been sealed up again and we were taking stock of things with the whole crew on the bridge, one of the trainees spotted sparks at the stern. We knew there was a trailer there carrying carbide. I sent a team to investigate, but then I saw some huge waves coming towards us again. I called them back into the crew quarters and just when they got back inside, the ship made a giant shift to star­board, causing all 24 carbide cylinders – each containing 900 kilos of the stuff – to slide across the deck again. All the cylinders were crushed, so the whole lot started burning. A firefighting team tried to do something about it, but there was too much wind. The fire was getting closer and closer to the crew quarters – I could feel the heat through the window.

‘GOOD SEAMANSHIP IS VITAL’

Enormous fireball We were in touch with shore to tell them what was going on, but because of the fire, the alarms on the bridge went off. It was like trying to communicate in the middle of a pop concert – a real problem. So I’d asked a nearby tanker to act as on-scene commander, and I asked him to summon helicopters. They arrived – which took some time, partly because of the headwind. By now, we'd put on our survival suits, but it turned out that the helicopter couldn’t lift us off. There was too much wind and the ship was rolling too much, so it was too dangerous. That’s when I made the decision that everyone should get into the lifeboat. Just before we reached it, two tank containers exploded, creating a huge fireball. Fortunately, the life­boats weren't damaged. In the lifeboat, I counted everybody three times over to make sure nobody was left behind. Hours later – it was now nighttime – Danish Coast Guard vessels arrived and they launched a rigid inflatable boat (an RIB). One by one, we jumped into the water from the lifeboat, with me last, and were haulted into the RIB and taken to the rescue vessel. What was the first thing we did? We phoned home to tell them we’d survived. It could have ended differently, I fully realise. Good communication The fact that we survived that calamity was first of all due to the team: we knew one another and each other's qualities really well. In such a situation, it's also important to help one another and not leave one another on their own. Good seamanship is vital: knowledge of the ship and her cargo. And perhaps most important of all, good communication. I was the captain, so I had final responsibility, but I desperately needed my crew. So I had to make clear what the plan was, and stay calm myself and motivate my guys. It was one crisis after another, but I knew it was important not to panic – that wouldn't do anybody any good. If something didn't work, I came up with a new plan. I just kept going until the bitter end. Even though I knew that every setback made it a bit less likely that we'd survive. Coping with it Our ship was towed to Eemshaven, the fire was extinguished, and she was repaired. About six months after the calamity, we set off again with the same crew on the same route. That was very good for coping with what we’d been through. Whenever I saw a crew member was getting emotional, I would talk to them. Many of my then crew are still at sea, and I sometimes work with them. There'll always be a special bond between us.’ ←