Portrait of Commander Mike Norman. O.B.E., A.F.C., R.N.

It is 33 years almost to the day since the tragedy of the South Shields trawler BEN ASDALE but to me it still feels like yesterday. I was the Captain of the aircraft. I have had couple of occasions in my naval career when the minute details of focussed and intense activity remain as clear as day; the other being the moment an Exoccet missile hit HMS SHEFFIELD in the Falklands WAR and sunk her.I was Second in Command and First Lieutenant of that Type 42 Missile Destroyer, now thirty years ago, and grateful to have survived where twenty of our ships company did not and whose grave is the South Atlantic”. I am very heartened to read Skipper Barty Coe’s comments putting the record straight and I hope he gets to read mine. I was also pleased to read Peter and Mike Billcliffe’s comments although I don’t think I ever met them. As regards the events on that wild night, the Captain of RNAS Culdrose , Captain ‘Jock’ Tofts decided the weather and icing conditions were outside limits and that it was a ‘no-go’. But then we heard in the Culdrose Ops Room from the Falmouth Coastguard that the ‘Breaches Buoy’ attempt had failed and since the Falmouth lifeboat could not get near the vessel the only remaining means of rescue was by helicopter. Captain Tofts left the decision with me and after consultation with the rest of my duty SAR crew we decided we would give it our best shot since if we didn’t it was unlikely those eight left onboard would see the morning.

Photo 691 shows the naval aircrews and ground crews plus supporting station emergency personnel on SAR duty at RNAS Culdrose over the Christmas and New Year period in 1978/79, heroes everyone of them.

I won’t go into a blow by blow account but suffice to say it was the most challenging bit of flying any of us had done before or since. One could say it was a close run thing since on lift number 3 when a survivor was picked up with a huge swing on the winch wire the aircraft became almost uncontollable. As one Coastguard Officer said later ” the rotor blades were almost touching the cliffs at one point” And as the rescue progressed the intercom between the crew failed and a lot of the internal communication was done on bits of paper being passed backwards and forwards ! On top of that we had also lost communiaction with the Air Station who we learned later had a power failure and there was no ‘get you home’ radar assistance. But we did manage to complete the rescue and make it home due in no small measure to our excellent training, good teamwork and quite a lot of luck!!

Painting by John Hamilton

We were all grateful to have been acknowledged for our efforts later; that is the First Pilot Lt Tony Hogg, later to become the Captain of RNAS Culdrose; the Second Pilot, Lt Larry Jeram-Croft; Leading Aircrewman Jan Folland; Medical assistant Brain Steele, a volunteer from Culdrose Sick Bay and myself, the Captain and Observer. I wonder if the Billcliffe Brothers received recognition for their bravery ? They certainly deserved it. After this long night we all went to the Sick Bay after putting the aircraft to bed, at around 0630, to see our survivors, one of them a Russian, all tucked up in bed and recovering, some from hypothermia. After a hearty breakfast and an hours kip we were off again to take a pregnant woman who was cut off in the snow, to hospital. It was a few days later that the reality sunk in and how close we had come to the BEN ASDALE rescue being a horrific disaster. Eyewitness accounts are always very thrilling and this is no exception, except that it rather modestly understates the sheer enormity of the task that faced the pilot and crew of Sea King 592. Two Airforce crosses, and 3 Queens commendations were awarded for this intrepid rescue. You can read the citations from the London Gazette below.You really could not make this up.

Lt Commander Michael John Norman, Royal Navy.

Lt Commander Michael John Norman, Royal Navy

Lt. Commander Mike Norman was the captain and observer of Sea King 592 which took off at 0145 on the 31st of December. The aircrew had already been briefed that the already atrocious weather would deteriorate and that poor radar reception in the blizzard would probably prevent them returning to Culdrose. Flying at low level to minimise the risk if icing, Seak ing 952 reached maenporth at 0205but was unable to identify the coast, the cove, or the wreck because of the darkness and poor visibility in the blizzard. The gale blowing directly into the cove added to the helicopters difficulties by making an approach from seaward impossible. Using bearings radioed from a coast guard vehicle on the cliffs, Lt Commander Norman had the aircraft fly a circuit until the vehicle’s searchlight became visible. The aircraft was then flown over the vehicle and given a steep decent, establishing it in an automatic hover some thousand yards from the coast. Lt. Commander Norman asked the coastguard to con the aircraft rearwards to a position over the wreck. Aided by the clifftop searchlight this was successfully accomplished despite an increase in the wind strength to Force 9. By now three of the trawlermen had reached the shore in a dingy but three others had been swept away by the heavy seas which were continually breaking over the wreck, now on its side, sometimes concealing it from the view of the aircraft 50 feet above Lt.Commander Norman judged the conditions to be too treacherous to put his crewman down in a double lift strop and decided to use a single strop instead. The rescue began with Lt. Commander Norman controlling the aircraft’s attitude the 1st Pilot maintaining height on the radio altimeter, the Crewman operating the winch and the Co-Pilot watching what little of the cliff could occasionally be seen whilst maintaining radio contact with the Coastguard. Despite problems with holding position over the wreck the first two lifts were successfully completed.

Painting by John Hamilton

Lt. Commander Norman then decided to attempt the next lift with the Pilot in full control of the aircraft to facilitate a better hover and provide easier access to the forward part of the aircraft for the cold and virtually immobile survivors. At this stage the aircrafts intercom began to deteriorate and with the Pilot now having to rely on verbal instructions from the Observer it was even more difficult to maintain position. The third survivor was lifted with a large swing on the wire as the aircraft, caught by the gale, lurched towards the cliffs which were about 50 yards away but not visible. The winch wire snagged and cut into a fairing aft of the cabin door and lt. Commander Norman realised that the only way to free it was to lower the survivor into the sea to take the weight off the wire. This manoeuvre was sussessfully completed despite the difficulty in communicating with the aircrew. With the snow storm intensifying, the reaward transit into the cove was repeated with Coastguard assistance. At this point Lt. Commander Norman seriously considered abandoning the rescue, but realising that there was no other rescue method available to the trawlermen he decided to continue since it was doubtful wheather the crew could survive unaided for much longer. The remaining five lifts were completed with increasing difficulty as the intercom worsened and finally failed leaving Lt. Commander Norman with no method of communication with his Pilots since it was too dark to see hand signals.

Lt Tony Hogg First Pilot, Lt Larry Jeram- Croft Second pilot, Lt Cdr Mike Norman Observer and a/c Captain, and Leading Aircrewman Jan Folland, Winch Operator. Leading Medical Attendant Brian Steele is not present. He was a volunteer from the sick bay at RNAS Culdrose.

With all eight survivors on board, the helicopter attempted to return to Culdrose despite the complications caused by the intercom failure and poor radar reception. Eventually the intercom recovered and Lt. Commander Norman was able to direct his aircraft to a position overhead the field using the aircraft’s radar. Once the aircraft had been landed, the survivors were taken to the sick bay, and in spite of two cases of hypothermia all those rescued by the helicopter survived. Lt. Commander Norman led his crew in extremely difficult circumstances of weather, sea state and aircraft serviceability in one of the most dangerous rescues undertaken by a Naval aircraft in recent years. It is largely because of the leadership, professional competence, calm, clear thinking, and great courage displayed by him in these atrocious conditions that those who remained on board the Ben Asdale were saved.

Lt. Hogg was the 1st pilot of SeaKing 592 which was launched in the early hours of 31st December 1978 to rescue the crew of the Trawler Ben Asdale.

Lt. Hogg

Weather conditions on take off were atrocious and through out this hazardous rescue the aircraft was flown well beyond its normal weather limits. As the rescue proceeded the wind strength increased to Force 9, visibility deteriorated as the blizzard intensified and communications worsened as the aircrafts intercom steadily failed cutting lt. Hogg off from his fellow crew members. Nonetheless, he remained calm and in control throughout although he knew that on occasions the aircraft was being blown dangerously close to the cliffs. The turbulence of the air and rough seas produced extraordinary variations in pitch and roll and yet Lt. Hogg remained unruffled as he maintained the aircrafts height and monitored its attitude whilst hovering. On completion of the rescue, with the intercom totally failed, Lt. Hogg attempted to fly the aircraft back to Culdrose. However radar reception in the blizzard was so poor that it was only when the intercom recovered that the aircraft could return using its own radar information interpreted by the Observer. Lt. Hogg remained composed throughout this highly dangerous operation. He co-operated closely with the Captain of the aircraft to achieve the rescue in the most effective way possible even though this method took a large part of the aircraft’s control away from him. He showed great courage, supreme professional competence and devotion to duty in the face of almost impossible conditions.

Lt. Lawrence Maynard Jeram-Croft

Lt. Lawrence Maynard Jeram-Croft, Royal Navy. For his skill and personal courage as Co-Pilot of Sea King 592 in coping with communications difficulties during the hazardous rescue of survivors from the wrecked trawler Ben Asdale on 31st December 1978

Queen’s Commendation for valuable service in the air.

Leading Aircrewman Christopher John Folland, D105603U. For his skill and personal courage as the Winchman of Sea King 592 during the hazardous rescue of survivors from the wrecked trawler Ben Asdale on 31st December 1978.

Leading Medical Assistant Brian David Steele, D082890Y. For his courage and devotion to duty as the Medical Assistant of Sea King 592 during the hazardous rescue of survivors from the wrecked trawler Ben Asdale on 31st December 1978. (unfortunately no photo)

All that’s left of the Ben Asdale

I am very grateful to Rita Agius for sending me the following article about her beloved grandfather Joseph Cauchi who survived the sinking of the Hera The following interview is taken from a Maltese newspaper ‘It-Torca’, Sunday 15th November 1964. It is an English translation of the original Maltese text that was written by Lino Spiteri when the late Joseph Cauchi was 70 years old. He died at the age of 84, on the 9th August 1979, in Malta. I have included the photos below because they were his property. They are damaged, but most of them are to be seen on the main Hera story in much better condition from another source.

Joseph Cauchi aged 70 years.

Whoever sees JosephCauchi today, one may note that he looks much younger than his actual age of seventy. It may also be noted that his eyes are ever-smiling and still full of life. However, one may fail to realize that this energetic man from Qormi (Malta) has a great story to tell. Cauchi told me how he survived drowning and nonetheless went on to sail across the globe. At 18 years of age, just 2 years before the First World War started, Cauchi, like most teenagers was still immature and rash. One day he was in a bar watching some men gambling money for sixpence. One of them lost two pence. He was a trouble maker and many years later ended up as a victim of a suicide in Marsa, Malta. This man started shouting in the bar that he was going to call the police. In fact, he actually went to the police and sued all those present in the bar, including Cauchi. The trial in court was set for Saturday, but Joseph Cauchi never went to court. The Thursday before, he sailed to Tunisia for five shillings to avoid appearing in court. In Tunis he worked in the mines but after 3 months he sailed to Algiers. There he worked in the port but he was not happy, so once more he set sail on a Greek ship and it is here where his great adventure began. After six months on deck Josef disembarked in England where he found a job on another Greek ship. On the return voyage they were involved in a strange incident. As the ship was lightly loaded the wind took control of it and quickly started being blown towards the mainland and when it reached the English shores it was already half sunk. Finally they arrived ashore safe and sound where everyone decided to abandon ship. Cauchi was encouraged to embark on a German sailing ship. At first he hesitated because he did not speak German. Nevertheless he was not discouraged because he spoke some English and a bit of Italian and Greek as well.

The Hera.

Cauchi embarked from Talbot Port, England, for £3 a month, whereas the Germans earned £2 10s. There were 26 crew on board, most of which were of German nationality. The ship was bound for South America where Cauchi worked for two months, in the ‘tile coal’ business. Whoever worked on this material had to wear protective glasses due to its irritant nature. After having loaded the ship with saltpeter the ship sailed for Europe. Cauchi thought that this substance was intended for the anticipated war. The Hera was bound for Falmouth in England but it was not destined to arrive. It was a Saturday as the ship approached land. It was Cauchi’s turn to sleep from 1 to 7 pm, but due the circumstances he had to sleep at 11pm. “All of a sudden, a German came running and shouting to me to wake up quickly. I got dressed and looked out to see the distant lights of the port. I told them: ‘the port is still far off!’ ” But when Cauchi looked from the other side he realised that the ship was very near to high cliffs and that the sea currents were pushing the ship against the rocks and damaging the hull. The captain started yelling to the sailors to open up the bow sails. But the rope of one of them was entangled and the sail could not be lifted. More help came but on more pulling the rope broke. “While some sailors were lowering the other sails the captain shot flares for help, since the ship was not equipped with a radio facility. While unpacking the life jackets I could not hear whether my mates were nearby, due to the tremendous sound of the waves. It was misty that night and as I headed towards the stern I bumped into the second mate, who told me to run to the stern and wear a life jacket and get into a life boat. I managed to get hold of the last jackets and although having a broken cord, I did my best to fit them around me because I did not know how to swim.

Members of the crew and passengers. Joseph Cauchi is on the right with a white hat in his hand.

The rope of the lifeboat got entangled with the stern and it dropped headfirst into the water. The rope was cut and the lifeboat quickly filled up with water. Two of the sailors went in it and started emptying water and started to bail out water. When all the sailors managed to make it into the boat, the captain told us to wait for him because he had to retrieve something from the ship. As the captain went inside, the Hera tilted and started to sink towards the stern. We never saw the captain again.”Meanwhile, Cauchi was clinging to the lifeboat with eyes tightly shut, without knowing whether he was floating or below water. He opened his eyes and saw a life jacket floating near him but did not hold into it because he was afraid of drifting outwards in the open sea. Besides, there were many floats hanging from the bows of the vessel, which was still afloat. “I made an effort to cling to something and lift myself from the water. I prayed for the waves to lift me higher, but they were in fact dragging me downwards! I started to make a great effort to climb the bow mast and on succeeding I found out that there was someone else above me. He was the blacksmith and the only Catholic on the “Hera”. I told him to climb higher, but as it was late January he was already cold and could not climb up further.” Cauchi climbed further up and could see that there was also the second mate. As Cauchi climbed higher he joined two others who were clinging to the mast. “The last one on the mast was the chief mate, who told us to call out our names, in order to determine how many of us there were. We found out that there were ten of us.”

The whisle that saved the day.

“The second mate had a whistle in his mouth and gave it to the others for them to use it and to call for help. I told them to keep on shouting for help, lest any rescuers might think us lost. We started shouting ‘Come in lifeboat!’ ”They saw three lights approaching, but time passed by and till morning we saw no one coming to our rescue. Finally, at around five am, when it was still dark, a small boat from the National Life Boat Institution approached us. Only five of the original ten remained on the mast. The lower five persons drowned because the Hera continued sinking during the night. Joseph Cauchi “One of the survivors fell into the water when the lifeboat approached us. He was hauled in and another two jumped into the boat directly from the mast. The boat drifted outwards due to the currents, but I clung on to the mast, frozen cold. I saw them drifting away from me and they did not notice me because it was dark. As I looked at their light I started to shout “there’s another one!” They returned to the ship, saw me and gave me an oar to grab onto, but I was unable to because I felt very weak. But then, two of them climbed up, grabbed me by my shoulders and lowered me into the boat.” The survivors were given biscuits and some rum, as well as a cap each. “I lowered it in front of my eyes and said to myself: ‘I will never look at the sea anymore!’ The five survivors, including the Swede were taken to hospital. They were helped inside because they were unable to walk. Once inside they were undressed, dried and given woolen clothes. They were visited by many persons, who gave them money, food and tobacco. Four of the five recovered quickly and went out of hospital. People who knew them offered them drinks until at last they returned drunk to their ward.

In the Hospital. Joseph Cauchi is second from the left (standing).

From Falmouth they went to Plymouth where they were picked up by a German ship. In Germany Cauchi lived for a short while in Hamburg, where he was given about £ 30 by the ship’s firm, for the loss of his belongings and job. Afterwards Cauchi was referred to the British Consulate where he was advised to send £ 20 to his mother just in case he got robbed. Cauchi left Hamburg by train to Marseille, from where he sailed to Malta. He had only 2s left. Once in Malta Cauchi opened a shop and eventually got married. However his sense of adventure never diminished. In spite of his previous experience he went to Alexandria, from where he travelled to China, then America where he eventually lived for two and a half years. After this time he returned to Malta for five months, then left for Australia, where he spent 7 months. Then he sailed to Belgium, England and once again to America. He spent ten years in America, but in 1932 he returned to Malta to work at the dockyard and from then on did not journey again. In spite of almost dying when he was 18, Cauchi is still very healthy and one can still read his undying spirit in his eyes.

The lifeboat that saved them.

Joseph Cauchi died on the 9th of August 1979 at the beautiful age of 84. It is not us who make our future but God who is shaping both us and our paths. Joseph, thought his days were over in the English Channel. However, I can still hear his words in my ear when he used to tell his story to people. He used to say, ”my greatest worries when I was drowning were that my mother would think of me as that man who never writes a letter to his mum telling her where he is. Only God would know. But, as the story shows, Joseph lived and God wanted him to live otherwise I wouldn’t be writing the story of my beloved grandpa Joseph Cauchi. When he settled back in Malta he lived with his wife Annunziata and his daughter Felicity. Soon after his arrival in Malta he had another daughter Emmanuela who is my mother who wouldn’t have given me life had my grandfather died on the night between the 31st of January and 1st February 1914.

Joseph Cauchi aged 80 years.

Situated on the the south coast of Cornwall, Falmouth Bay is one of the largest natural harbours in the world and contains a wealth of facinating shipwrecks.

Less than two hours from Plymouth by boat or car, the wrecks around Falmouth are easy to reach. However with some of the most interesting wrecks guarded by the treacherous Manacles to the west and the sheer size of the Bay, boat skills have to be of a high standard.Also for ease I have included the odd wreck which really is just outside Falmouth bay, but near enough.

• The Manacles – an overview
• Mohegan
• Volnay
• Caroni River
• Bay of Panama
• Andromeda
• Ben Asdale
• Hera
• Joseph Cauchi,survivor from the Hera
• German Submarines
• The Wreck of the Conqueror

The Devon and Cornwall coast is almost as infamous for its spine chilling tales of wreckers, as it is famous for its shipwrecks. Even today the wrecking tradition lives on, as the owners of the ill fated Johanna, wrecked earlier this year at Hartland Point, found out to their cost. Within hours of that unfortunate ship crashing ashore she was stripped of virtually everything, including the radar scanner.

Sometimes however, a ship sinks and instead of the wreckers getting the cargo, nature takes a hand and presents the local community with an unexpected bonanza. Such an incident happened at Porthallow near Falmouth on December 1917, and it involved the British steamer Volnay.

The Volnay was a ship of some 4610 tons owned by Gow Harrison and Company. She was homeward bound from Canada, and part of her cargo consisted of much needed ammunition for the troops fighting the Great War in France. The other part of the cargo however, was to be of much more interest to the inhabitants of Porthallow as it contained items of food such as coffee, sugar, butter, jam, and potato crisps, which after two years of war had become almost unobtainable.

When the Volnay arrived off the Manacles there was an explosion by her bows, and her Captain assumed he had hit a mine. There was no immediate panic, and soon two tugs came out to assist the stricken vessel into Porthallow Bay. Unfortunately the Captain had badly underestimated the damage done by the explosion, and instead of trying to beach his ship he left it in the middle of the Bay where it promptly sank, spilling some of its cargo.

Later in the day a strong onshore wind blew up and soon tons of the Volnays cargo was piling ashore. In fact so much came ashore that it was almost impossible to see the beach, and in places the boxes and sacks were piled nearly five feet high. For days afterwards no boats could be launched to get out to the wreck. Not because of the bad weather, but simply because there was just no room to pull the boats down to the sea. That Christmas of 1917 must have been the best in living memory.

Today the Volnay lies in nearly 70 feet of water on a sandy bottom. Although the wreck is well broken up, there are still some very large pieces, but the whole site is covered in a fine layer of silty sand and you must be careful not to stir things up. I first dived on the Volnay in April of 1982,and this is what I wrote in my log book then.

The marks that I had put me right near the two massive boilers, which with their light coating of deadmens fingers, provide a good home for some very fine spotted wrasse.

All around the boilers are scattered large amounts of wreckage, including bollards, winches, chain, and a lot of wooden ammunition boxes. Further out from the boilers lie large areas of broken deck plates and rib sections all jumbled one on top of the other. It is extremely difficult to match up bits of the wreck with their relative positions, but with visibility averaging 25 feet you can have a lot of fun trying.

Most of the ammunition from the Volnay was salvaged, but as the wreck broke up over the years more came to light. Nearly all the ammunition is 18 pdr Shrapnel. All of it is fused, live, and very badly corroded, so force yourself to leave it well alone. Incidentally, the shrapnel container is made of light steel, and often this has completely disintegrated causing the brass nose fuse to drop off. Many of these lie scattered in the sand and obviously some must have been taken for souvenirs, because they are very attractive and look harmless.

Unfortunately these nosecones contain two detonators, so if you have one on your mantelpiece, take care. Because of the Volnay’s fairly shallow depth, you can have a nice long dive on her. This is just as well because she is a very picturesque wreck, ideal for photographers and there is a lot of her to explore. All of us who dived on the Volnay that day were very impressed, and I for one will be making a return visit.

Since those early days I have dived the Volnay several times and mostly been disappointed as the sand cover seemed to increase, making it difficult for me to get my bearings. Hover on my last dive in 2001 all was as I remembered on my first dive. The sand has receded and the wreck now sticks up in great chunks. A local dive school has a small buoy on the wreck, so it is easy to find.

There are not many bits of ammo left but a few of the wooden boxes can still be found. All in all a good dive.

Built by the Belfast shipping firm of Hartland and Wolff in 1883, the Bay of Panama was described by everyone who saw her as probably the finest sailing ship afloat. With her steel hull, and four square-rigged masts, she was a very fast and beautiful ship of 2282 tons. But strength and good looks are no guarantee, and during March 1891 the Bay of Panama met up with the worst blizzard Cornwall had suffered for over two hundred years. It was to prove no contest. Because of her speed, the Bay of Panama was used on the Calcutta run, and on November 18th 1890 she left that port bound for Dundee loaded with a cargo of 13000 bales of jute.

For four months she sailed swiftly towards England until one morning during the early part of March 1891, she approached the Cornish coast in rapidly deteriorating weather. The Captain knew all about the dangers of a lee shore, but because of the bad visibility he was uncertain as to his exact position. He could see that the weather was unlikely to get any better, and he even thought that there might be some snow. After weighing up all the risks he decided to heave to, take some depth soundings, and generally take stock of his position. It was a decision that was to cost him his ship, and his life. Only a few hours later, in the early afternoon, a blizzard, the worst for over two centuries, swept into the West Country and engulfed the Bay of Panama.

The wreck of the Bay of Panama.

On board the seamen desperately furled all the sails, and prayed that the ship would ride out the storm. On land, the driving snow and bitter winds produced freezing temperatures the like of which nobody could remember. Sheep and cows were frozen to death in the fields, and at sea many ships came to grief, including four that were wrecked nearby on the Manacles. During that night things became very desperate, and distress flares were fired off. Because of the driving snow nobody saw these, and in the early hours of the following morning, disaster finally struck. A huge wave crashed over the stern, and as it rolled forward it smashed very boat that was lashed on deck. Soon afterwards the Bay of Panama was driven headlong into the cliffs just to the south of Nare Point.

As she struck, she was swung around until her bows pointed eastwards, and then she settled firmly aground with a heavy list to starboard. Some of the topmasts fell down, and shortly afterwards another huge wave broke over the ship, sweeping away the second mate. This wave also completely swamped the main cabin, washing the Captain, his wife and six other crewmen over the side where they all drowned. By now there was pandemonium on deck. Hardly able to see in the driving snow, and soaked by freezing water breaking over the deck, the Mate took charge and ordered everybody into the remaining rigging. Unfortunately for the crew, the freezing spray that showered into the rigging turned quickly into ice, and many of them were frozen to death. During that long period before dawn, many died of exhaustion and cold, and the Ships Bosun, unable to withstand the suffering any longer, went completely mad, and flung himself off the rigging to drown in the tumultuous seas.

Another view of the wreck.

With the coming of dawn the Bay of Panama presented a truly awful sight. Lying hard and fast under the cliffs, her masts and rigging were in ruins. Her decks contained a shambles of cordage and tattered sails, and over the side there hung a great tangled mess of broken spars, rope, and yet more ruined sails. Even worse was the horrific sight of those men still stuck in the rigging. Some were still feebly clinging to life, but most were by now just frozen corpses. At long last a farmer out looking for his scattered sheep, came across the wreck and quickly summoned help. Soon a breeches buoy was set up, but the seamen still left alive were so weak that they were completely incapable of helping themselves. So the rescuers had to get onboard the wreck and place each man in the harness, and then ferry them ashore. In the end, of the forty people that sailed on the Bay of Panama only seventeen survived.

Joseph Hendy James, who broke the news of the dreadful wreck, on March 9th 1891.

However the rescue did not put an end to the hardships that the survivors had to bear. After being fed and unfrozen, the men were put to bed for the night in the village of St.Keverne. The next day, wrapped in blankets they set off for Falmouth in a horse drawn bus. But huge snowdrifts blocked the roads, and soon they could make no more headway. The men were forced to abandon the bus and carry on to Falmouth on foot. Most had no shoes, and nearly all were only clothed in rags and blankets. How they managed to struggle into Falmouth through the snowdrifts and the terrible cold is a story that has long since passed into Cornish legend. The local newspaper, The Falmouth Packet, says it all when it commented that “the men had endured as much privation in that walk as they did in the actual shipwreck”. Those words seem to just about capture the mood of this quite remarkable episode.

dive report to follow

The Mohegan, originally built as the Cleopatra by Earles of Hull, was a vessel of some 7000 tons. Prior to her launching she had been purchased by the Atlantic Transport Company of London on July 29th 1898. The Mohegan was an extremely luxurious and modern ship for her time, and as well as being fitted out in lavish Victorian style, she was also equipped with eight water tight compartments, with a steam pump capable of pumping out each compartment in turn. Measuring 482 feet in length and 52 feet at the beam, the Mohegan drew nearly 20 feet and was capable of a top speed of 14 knots. She carried 97 crew, about 60 first class passengers, and stockmen to attend the animals carried as deck cargo.

The Mohegan from an early watercolour.

The Victorians however were hard taskmasters, and expected value for their money. So when the Mohegans completion was held up by a strike, the builders had to skimp on her specifications and rush her through to avoid the crippling penalty clauses for non-delivery. Her maiden voyage across the Atlantic causes a furore, and she leaked so alarmingly that she had to be docked in New York for repairs before returning to the Tyne for a complete refit. On 13th October 1898 the Mohegan set out on her second voyage. Once again bound for New York, the Mohegan left Tilbury with Captain Griffiths in command. She carried a full complement of 60 passengers and 97 crew, and her general cargo consisted mostly of beer and spirits. However, a fair proportion of the cargo also contained church ornaments and artificial flowers, an odd but faintly prophetic mixture.

The Mohegan’s ill fated course.

At first all went well. The weather was quite good, and on the next day, October 14th the Mohegan found herself off Prawle Point, where she made a routine position signal to her owners. Later as she passed Rame Head, she was sighted by a signalman who was surprised to see her less than ten miles offshore. By then the Mohegans fate was almost sealed, because she was already steaming on a compass course that was hopelessly incorrect. At about a quarter to seven that evening, the passengers were just taking their places for dinner. In the first class cabins the nannies were supervising the children’s preparations for bed. On the bridge the lookouts were alert, and in the wheelhouse the helmsman was steering a course ordered by the officer of the watch, and personally checked by the Captain. All was as it should be.

Captain Griffith.

Five minutes later the Mohegan, ablaze with lights smashed at full speed straight into the Manacles Reef, ripping a huge gash right below her waterline. Against this kind of damage the watertight compartments were useless, and several were flooded straight away. Within thirty seconds the engine room had to be abandoned, and very quickly the generators were flooded out plunging the whole ship into complete darkness. On the bridge, Captain Griffiths and his officers managed to fire off some distress rockets and started to get the passengers into the ships boats. However the Mohegans list to port soon became so severe that the starboard lifeboats could not be lowered, and so offered no escape. With threequarters of the ship underwater the Mohegan quickly sank, and within ten minutes of striking she was gone leaving those on deck to swim for their lives. Some managed to cling to the mizzenmasts rigging which remained above the water, but for 106 poor souls their end was at hand.

The Mohegan aground on the Manacles.

The loss of life would have undoubtedly been even greater but for the presence of mind of the Cox’n of the Porthoustock lifeboat, James Hill. When he saw the Mohegan coming across the bay, he realized that it would most probably hit the Manacles, and he had almost mustered his crew before the Mohegan struck. Two of the luckiest people to survive were a Miss Rondebush, and a Miss Compton-Swift. They had escaped the ship in a lifeboat, which was later overturned, and they were both trapped underneath the boat for over an hour before being rescued. Amongst those who perished were Captain Griffiths and all his officers. Survivors praised all of them for the cool and courageous way they had stemmed the tide of panic, when it became obvious that escape by the ships boats was hopeless.

The mass grave at St.Keverne’s Church.

In the aftermath of the disaster an inquiry was held into why the Mohegan had steered such an incorrect course. Many theories were put forward, but since the Captain and all the officers were dead no real conclusion could be reached, and the mystery has remained unanswered to this day. About the only good thing to come out of the disaster were new recommendations into the type of lifesaving equipment to be carried on all passenger ships. Most of the dead were buried in a mass grave at St. Keverne church which more or less overlooks the very spot where the Mohegan struck. Instead of a headstone a simple cross was erected. There was no epitaph, just one word ‘Mohegan’. Three months later the headless corpse of Captain Griffiths was washed ashore in Caernarvon Bay. The sea had finally finished with the Mohegan.

The interment of the victims in the mass grave.

I had always wanted to dive this wreck because it is one of the classic wreck stories. Any wreck with this type of reputation is often over rated, but to my surprise I found the wreck fascinating. I first dived this wreck in 1982 and these were my first impressions.

The day was perfect, with the sea flat calm and the Manacles looking as innocent as apple pie. However the fog started to come down , and only about an hour of slack water we had to get on with the diving fairly quickly.

A plate from the Mohegan displayed at The Five Pilchards Inn.

Incidentally for those who have never been to this part of the country, the Manacles looks like a lunar landscape and casts a brooding air over the whole proceedings.

The remains of the Mohegan are stuck down in between huge pinnacles of rock which are covered in pink and white dead mens fingers. The depth was about seventy feet, with the visibility around twenty feet. There are roughly two different dives on this wreck the first being the Mohegans massive boilers in about eighty five feet and the bow area where I was.

The bows are smashed up but lie on top of the rocks with their ribs stretching away into the distance. A very impressive sight. In amongst the mass of wreckage are the winches that were used to haul up her anchors, and further along were the remains of another boiler, about twenty feet in diameter which was probably used to power the winches. This boiler is extremely picturesque with some of it smashed open to reveal the pipes inside covered with pale pink dead mens fingers.

The steam whistle also at the Inn.

After that we sort of just wandered about this huge part of the wreck soaking up the atmosphere. The Wreck has a menacing charm all of it own. The wreck caused great loss of life, and it seems that some how that memory has been entombed with the wreck.

I next dived on the Mohegan in 1990 on the boilers. This time it was early morning and the viz was sixty odd feet. Honest. The boilers were massive and the mass of steel plating stretched into the distance like the M1. Looking up you could see the boat almost impaled by one of the huge rock pinnacle’s. A great dive on a great wreck.

From Prawle Point in the East, to the Manacles in the West, with the Eddystone in the middle, make up the triangle of my diving area. Whilst each of these areas is famous for its shipwrecks, only the Manacles are truly notorious, and have virtually no redeeming features. It’s sinister and evil reputation is matched only by it’s bleak and forbidding appearance, as it stretches out nearly one and a half miles into the sea, where it lies mostly submerged waiting to entrap the careless or just plain unlucky.

Paris aground with Mohegan’s masts in foreground.

Its name derives from the old Cornish words Maen Eglos, meaning church rocks, and a possible reference to the spire of St. Keverne’s church, which has served as a landmark for centuries. More likely it refers to the gravestones that fill the local church yards, because over the centuries more than a hundred ships have been wrecked, drowning well over a thousand people on this unforgiving shore. During one terrible night in 1809, one hundred and ten bodies were washed ashore and many more accounted for, when the transport ship Dispatch, and the Brig, H.M.S. Primrose were dashed to pieces on the Manacles. The emigrant barque John sank in 1855 with the loss of over one hundred and twenty people, and everybody knows about the loss of the liner Mohegan that sailed full speed onto Carn Du rock, drowning one hundred and six poor souls.

The Paris aground on the Manacles.

Southeast from Manacle Point is a large red buoy securely held in place with a huge anchor and a heavy chain reaching down nearly two hundred feet to the seabed. Even that and the masts of the sunken liner Mohegan, did not deter the French Liner Paris from running aground in 1899. Luckily she was finally refloated with only the loss of her owners pride, the Andola, four years earlier was not to be so lucky. She was caught in a snowstorm, which reduced visibility to just a few feet. A look out heard the Manacle buoy’s bell tolling in the gloom and the Captain ordered the topsails furled so that he could stand off. It was all too late. The Andola was swept onto the Sharks Fin rock only yards from the Manacles beach.

The wreck of the Andola.

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The list goes on and on. Liners, sailing ships, men of war, coasters and fishing boats, you name it and it has been wrecked on the Manacles. All around, the churchyards have been filled with gravestones, and the lifeboat men from the local villages surrounding this fatal shore have heroically sacrificed their lives to rescue the poor victims.

The Manacles are truly a fatal shore.

Gull Rock to the east of Falmouth in Veryan Bay, sticks out of the water like the hump of a Sea Dragon. It is so prominent that you would think that it would be easy to avoid. But the sea always lays traps for the unwary, and on the night of 1st of February 1914 Gull rock claimed a victim, the German steel barque Hera.

The Hera.

Originally a British owned vessel called the Richard Wagner, the 1994 ton Hera was owned by Rhederei Aktien of Hamburg, who also owned the ill fated square rigger, Pindos wrecked on the Manacles in 1912. On that February night the Hera was 91 days out of Pisaqua loaded with Chilien nitrates, and closing the Lizard. The weather was rough with a gale blowing, and Captain Lorentz was unsure as to his exact position. He thought to sail slowly into Falmouth bay and pick up the flash of either St. Anthony’s light or the Lizard. As dusk fell the weather steadily worsened and as the hours passed they still saw no shore lights. At about midnight the second mate reported land ahead. Captain Lorentz ordered the Hera put about, but the ship was slow to answer the helm and seconds later the Hera was impaled on Gull Rock about a quarter of a mile off Nare Head.

How the news hit the Headlines.

Distress rockets were fired and lifeboats manned, but the ship suddenly rolled forwards and as she settled by her head, the port boat capsized and Captain Lorentz and three men disappeared. After an attempt to free the starboard boat failed the Chief Officer led the crew up into the rigging to escape the seas that were now sweeping over the boat.

The Hera impaled on the rocks. Photo Paul Thomas.

As the Hera sank deeper the crew had to climb further up the rigging and soon they were in a dreadful state. Cold and exhaustion soon carried of the Chief Mate and shortly after the Second Mate, Peterson also gave up and slipped into the sea. Before he went he passed over his ships whistle to one of the seamen just above him on the mast.

August Lassen, the boy seaman who blew the whistle.

By this time only five men were left, and they were trapped halfway up the rigging of a sinking ship swept by freezing seas whipped up by a fierce gale. They had to endure these terrible conditions for another two hours before the Falmouth lifeboat finally hove into view. One of the able seamen, his hands so frozen that he could hardly hold the whistle, blew and blew until the lifeboat men heard the shrill sound just barely audible above the howling wind. With the whistle to guide them the cox’n managed to coax the lifeboat alongside the wreck of the Hera and pull the five exhausted crewmen to safety. Nineteen men died that dreadful night and their remains were buried in Veryan churchyard.(see Tombstones sectionHera)

The five survivors.

Today the Hera lies well broken up and scattered on a rock and sandy bottom in about fifty feet of water. It is a very pretty dive with most of the metal spars and plating covered in beautiful plumose anemones. There is plenty here to see and lots of fish life especially large Pollack and a rather large orange coloured starfish.

Wreckage scattered on the beach. Photo Paul Thomas.

The highlight for me was part of the upturned hull of the ship. This has formed a sort of iron cave, which you can swim into. Here lurk large Pollack some bass and a small conger. Light filters in from holes in the plating lighting up shoals of small fish and makes the whole experience quite surreal. With winter storms the sand can pile up and almost block the entrances to this cave but usually they are quite clear.

The lifeboat crew to the rescue.

Some of the mast stumps are still to be seen, and although the wreck is well broken up it is still possible to identify what bits you are swimming over. The Hera is a surprisingly compact wreck so there is not much chance of getting lost. But it is very picturesque, so you can stay down a long time, especially if you have a camera.

Listen to this great song about the Hera

Thanks: I am indebted to Ute Lassen for some of these photographs, especially the lad with the whistle who was her Grandfather. I would also like to say how gratefull I am to Paul Thomas for the photographs of the wreck, and the wonderfull story below, of his Great Grandfather William Leuty, who was part of the lifeboat crew.

The Lifeboat Bob Newton with William Leuty circled on the right. Photo Paul Thomas.

William Leuty was one of the crew of the lifeboat Bob Newton who went to the aid of the stricken Hera. When the lifeboat arrived alongside and found the crew clinging to the masts, Willie Leuty dropped the anchor. As he did so the chain rolled over his hand and severed two fingers. Willie was so cold that he never realised what had happen until he got back home and took of his cloves. Two fingers rolled out. This wasn’t the only shipwreck that William endured. During the First World, William was conscripted into the Devon and Cornwall Light Infantry. In July 1915 he found himself embarked on the steamer Royal Edward en-route to the Dardanelles. On 13th Aug, as the ship was steaming in the Mediterranean, it was torpedoed by the German submarine UB14. Within three minutes the decks were awash, and after six minutes the ship completely sank . Of the 1586 people on board less than 500 were rescued. William Leuty however, survived the dreadful sinking and became something of a hero by helping to cut free one of the lifeboats, so that it fell into the water thus ensuring that many other people were saved. William survived the Great War and became a licensed boatman in Falmouth. I am grateful to Jill Tremarkyn for the information below, and for the wonderful painting of the Hera My grandfather, Ashley Hearle received a message to go to the Nare Head with the rocket life-saving equipment ie breeches bouy to help with the rescue the crew of the Hera on 30th January 1914. This was all done with a team of horses from his farm and men from Gerrans and Portscatho. He told many times how the screams of the dying men haunted him for the rest of his life.

The wreck of the Hera courtesy J. Tremarkyn.

You can see more of the grave, including old photos and a great inscription by clicking the link below.

The hera

One of the strangest wreck incidents occurred in 1921, when a group of six German submarines were wrecked on the rocks along Castle Drive. Originally there were nine submarines allocated to Falmouth under the War Reparations Scheme.These were to be used by the Royal Navy for gunnery practice and certain experiments.

U. Boats at Harwich.

Eight of the submarines finally arrived and were anchored at Gullyngvase. Two were intentionally sunk during the Navy’s experiments, but the remaining six were caught up in a fierce winters gale and swept onto the rocks that stretch along Castle Drive, and abandoned. For many years they were left rusting in the shallows, so close into the shore that it was easy for people to walk out at low tide and board them. They were heavily salvaged and their ownership changed many times. One of the submarines sank very close in near a bathing beach and even today you can still see part of its hull at low tide.

Submarine ashore.

Whilst I am not completely sure that I have all the facts, I think that we have managed to identify four of the submarines. All the subs were launched during 1917. Two of the subs,UB112 and UB106 were built by Bloom and Voss of Hamburg. UB97 was built by Vulcan of Hamburg, and UB86 was built by Wesser of Bremmen. The UB class were about were about 182ft long with a beam of around 12ft. They had two props powered by four stroke diesel engines, which produced 13.5 knots, and two electric motors, which propelled the boat underwater at 7.5 knots. The submarine had a 3.5 inch gun forward of the conning tower and carried ten torpedoes, firing them from four bow tubes and one stern tube. The UB class of submarine had a crew of thirty-seven officers and men.

An example of a UB. class boat.

The subs are heavily covered in weed and well broken up and scattered all along this bit of coast less than a hundred yards offshore. Although I have dived the bit by the bathing beach extensively, (for filming purposes) I have not yet dived on the rest so a proper dive report will follow later. I you have dived on them and want to send me a dive report I would be grateful and put it on the website.

One of the largest wrecks in Falmouth Bay is the Caroni River, a 7807-ton oil tanker. She struck a mine on January 20th 1940, just after she had left the Harbour to carry out engine trials, and she sank with in the hour. This caused a bit of a panic back in Falmouth because the area had recently been swept for conventional mines, and no reports of any aircraft dropping parachute mines had been made. This left only one answer, a German mine laying submarine, which was capable of laying up to nine mines.

Caroni River sinking by the stern.

Since the Caroni River had hit one, this left a possible eight mines floating around the busy Bay area. A hasty sweep was made using the Caroni River’s last course and speed as a guide. Sure enough during the next couple of hours eight mines were safely detonated. The Navy at Falmouth however were still very worried. How on earth had the German submarine managed so close inshore at night without running into something? A trip around the Bay that night soon revealed the fact that St. Anthony’s light was well silhouetted against the night sky and it made a very good transit mark with the flashing light of the Manacles buoy. The buoy was quickly extinguished and was not relit until after the War.

The charts of Falmouth Bay show three wrecks right slap in the middle of the Bay. These are in fact all the Caroni River that broke into three pieces as she sank. Today the wreck lies on a bed of sand and shellet in about seventy five feet of water. The visibility is good, usually twenty feet and the wreckage is scattered over a very large area.

I am grateful to James Martin for the 1930 crew list below. His father in law was on the ship at that time.

Crew List.

One of the main surprises was the large numbers of cuckoo wrasse that inhabit this wreck. Here in Plymouth we expect one or two but this seemed like a busman’s holiday. There are large amounts of plating and ribs scattered all about and it is very difficult to decide which bit is which. On the bit I was diving on there was a large section of hull that looked like the bow.

Other than that it is all just a huge jumble of plating and pipes. The fish life is quite good, the usual pouting and small wrasse and there are some small lobsters. Considering the amount of wreckage I would have thought there would be more variety. Generally the Caroni River is a good but uninspiring wreck, even so I feel that I have not seen it at its best so will dive it a few more times to see if my opinion changes.

I am very grateful to Susan Potts-Bury for the following information and photo’s of her Dad.

Dad in Merchant Navy uniform.

Hi, I am writing up my family tree and I am adding the meat to the bones, so to speak. So seeing your article about the Caroni River is of great interest to me.

Dad with Gran and Grandad on an unidentified ship.

My Father sailed on the Caroni River for 16 months just before the war. His indenture with Houlder lines of 4 1\2 yrs. (He was on the Elstree Grange first) was up and as he could see war was imminent he decided to join the R.A.F. and be on the winning end of a bomb – he didn’t fancy sitting on an oil tanker while it was being bombed by the enemy.

Dad’s Shipping Apprentice Certificate.

In a book about his life he wrote a little about being on the Caroni River. He said that although by today’s standard it was small – to him it looked magnificent. He joined at Falmouth and they sailed to Curacao in the West Indies, Basra and other Gulf Ports picking up oil and transporting it to Europe, Africa and South America. Voyages lasted eight months. My Father finished his indenture in May 1938. Seeing now that the Caroni River ended up being destroyed by a mine – my Father was right to get off ships and join the Air Force.

Dad’s ship demise.

The Ben Asdale two days after she struck.

In December 1979 the freezer trawler Ben Asdale was off loading fish in Falmouth Bay in a force eight gale, with heavy snow turning to blizzards. The ship drifted towards Maenporth beach where she ran aground. Two of her crew were lost and the only redeeming feature of that dreadful night was the bravery shown by just about everybody involved. I am extremely lucky to have the Skipper’s first hand account, and the eyewitness account of the Captain of the rescue helicopter, who saved so many lives.

• The Wreck of the Ben Asdale
• Commander Mike Norman,Sea King 592
• Barty Coe – The Skippers Story

Sometimes you get to dive on a wreck which for some unaccountable reason proves to be irresistible. I say unaccountable, because quite often these wrecks are in shallow water and have little or no real goodies left on them. Even so for some reason or other you find yourself diving on then time and time again. One such wreck is that of the Andromeda, which became wrecked in a southwesterly gale on the 12th February 1915, off Killygerran Head near Portscatho, Cornwall.

The wreck of the Andromeda.

Built in 1890 by Duncans of Port Glasgow, the Andromeda was a four masted barque of some 1762 registered tons. Commanded by Captain Deeks, the Andromeda had loaded 2500 tons of badly needed grain at Tacoma in Oregon, and had successfully run the gauntlet of enemy submarines when she arrived off Falmouth in the teeth of a blinding south westerly gale. Due to the wartime restrictions in force at the time, Captain Deeks was not allowed to take the Andromeda straight into Falmouth harbour but had to wait for a Pilot. Unfortunately, because of the heavy weather none of the Pilot boats could get out to the Andromeda, who in any event was finding it extremely difficult to weather St Anthony’s Point. At the time Captain Deeks was still very worried about enemy submarines, because the night before when he was off the Scillies the skipper of a merchantman had warned him to keep a good lookout as submarines had recently been seen in that area.

By four o’clock the next morning however, Captain Deeks realised that the submarines were to be the least of his troubles as the gale was rapidly pushing his ship towards the Cornish shore. After ordering the two lifeboats to be made ready, Deeks then dropped both ships anchors. All the crew put on their lifejackets, but unknown to them all, one of their number a seaman called McDonald, was already missing after being washed overboard whilst attending to one of the lifeboats. As the huge seas pounded the Andromeda it became apparent that the anchors were dragging and all on board realised that they were going to hit the rocks. Captain Deeks had his wife and ten year old daughter to worry about as well as his ship and the crew, but because the sea was so ferocious nobody fancied trying to launch the lifeboats. As the Andromeda rushed towards the storm tossed rocks, everybody braced themselves for the shock as she collided. It must have been a heart stopping moment, but happily none of the masts fell down and although a lot of water was washing over the decks the Andromeda did not seem in imminent danger of breaking up.

An apprentice called Reginald Hockeridge started to try and free one of the lifeboats, when first one davit and then the other fell away and he and the boat were flung into the water. The hapless apprentice and the boat were quickly swept onto the rocks where the boat overturned on top of him. He remained trapped in this fashion until another wave lifted the boat from him and he managed to scramble up the rocks to safety.

Meanwhile on board the Andromeda everyone had clambered up the rigging and secured themselves so comfortably that the Captains young daughter promptly fell asleep on the knee of one of the sailors. She obviously had a lot of faith in her Dad and it was not to be misplaced, because at the subsequent inquiry Captain Deeks was praised by all for his competence and efficiency. When the sun finally arose on the following morning the local rocket brigade arrived to effect the crews rescue together with the local Territorials who rigged up a breeches buoy. Everyone was taken off safely, but for the Andromeda the end had come. Later that year stranded and forlorn, she was auctioned for ?70, not much even in those days, and broken up where she lay.

Today her remains lie very close inshore rammed into the large rocks at the bottom of Killygerran Head. The depth of water over the wreck ranges from fifteen to thirty feet, with the wreck lying upright on a sand and rock covered bottom. On a shallow site like this you obviously gets plenty of kelp, but it is not too intrusive and anyway cannot disguise the outline of the wreck. The Andromeda’s ribs and carcass are almost perfectly laid out and it is one of the most picturesque wreck sites that I have ever dived on. The wreckage is strewn over a very large area so there is not much chance of you missing it, and there are some quite large pieces, including some hull ribs, which stick up almost twelve feet.

Close by are what looks like part of a mast leaning on some rocks together with its step (or tabernacle) crammed into a cleft in the rocks almost on the shoreline. The wreck is supposed to be well dived, so much so that I had to persuade some of my companions to go there in the first place. “There’s nothing left” they moaned “too many people go there”. Well the first pair in (not me I am ashamed to say) found a gunmetal deadlight, and another pair found a very nice brass valve but couldn’t get it off, so far as I know it is still there. For the rest of the time you can just browse amongst the wreckage fitting all the bits together in your mind, and look at the beautifully coloured wrasse that wander in and out of the wrecks carcass. Some of the larger pieces of wreckage lie very close inshore jammed into huge rocky reveals. The water can get very turbulent this close in, even on a calm day, and it is easy to get bashed about on the rocks.

Incidentally don’t go wandering off into any of the large caves in this area because quite huge seals inhabit some of them. They might be playful but they don’t seem to like uninvited callers all that much. That day I did three dives on the Andromeda and I wished that it could have been more. Why? Well it is a very good dive, I cannot say more than that, can I.