Real Hero? Nah!

What is a hero? A coward that hadn't thought things through? A person who puts their life on the line to help others? For me it is a grey area. On two occasions I did what could be termed 'heroic' deeds but on analysis they were just the results of programming (training) and a reckless impulsiveness..... 

The crew were yet to show any cracks as the ship sailed through the Red Sea. A brief stop at Jeddah for bunkers was a welcome diversion from the routine. Paint, paint, paint! It was a waste of time, the ship was only held together with rust. The Persian Gulf was never a popular choice of destination for seamen but Joel didn't mind it. Okay on his last visit he seriously misjudged the weather and was shot at but otherwise it was quite boring.

His last visit had been on a super-tanker though. Going to the Gulf on a bulk carrier was to prove a lot different. For now Joel was blissfully ignorant. The sky blue waters of the Red Sea became a darker blue as the ship rounded the Arabian Peninsula into the Arabian Sea. It was as the ship neared the entrance to the Persian Gulf the fortunes changed.

The day had been like any other. The current from the Indian Ocean caused dwells but the 50,000 ton ship cut through the waves with ease. It was Friday and the seamen not on watch had two days to enjoy the weather. The 1st Mate had tried to get volunteers for overtime but was told where to go in no uncertain terms. Everybody knew (thought they knew) their time left on the ship was short, four ports in the Gulf then on to Singapore and home.

A party in the crew bar was organised and spirits were high. All but the watch keepers became horrendously drunk and were singing boisterously at 21:30 when there was a knock on the door. Everybody turned as the 1st Officer poked his head around the door somewhat furtively.
"I want all the deck crew out on deck immediately" he said and closed the door again.

He was just in time. A barrage of empty beer cans bounced off the door accompanied by an assortment of verbal insults. The 1st Officer must have waited outside the door because when nobody had moved after thirty seconds he opened it again.
"There's a ship on fire"

There were a lot of stories about merchant seamen being little more than animals and it was easy to see why. It took a special kind of mentality to be a seaman. When it was good it was out of this world. When it was bad it was pure hell. A couple of weeks of continuous bad weather and stormy seas, sleep deprivation, and sometimes fear, would all take their toll and it was little wonder some would go a little crazy when setting foot on terra firma. What most haters failed to mention was the high level of training required to be a seaman, something other countries are less concerned about.

The training paid off in this case. The ship's log noted that from the time the first man appeared on deck, to having a lifeboat crewed by six men headed towards the stricken ship, was one minute and forty-two seconds. Joel had been drunk as had the rest of the seamen but there was something sobering about a ship ablaze and hearts were in mouths.

In years to come Joel would oft relate the tale and 'hero' was even mentioned. Joel knew different, he wasn't a hero at all. A hero is someone who knows the dangers yet still acts in a certain way. Joel didn't have time to think. He had been trained what to do in an emergency and he was merely applying his knowledge as he had on the countless drills. It was only as the lifeboat let go from the ship Joel had time to think and it was then he assessed the situation. It didn't look good.

The ship had gotten as close as was safe. All the housing was ablaze on the other ship and it was situated where it would have been on an oil tanker. Oil tankers were of course common in the area and Joel feared the worst. If it exploded they would be engulfed in a fireball or ripped apart by metal fragments. That is if they managed to even get there.

It was slow progress through the choppy sea. A 50,000 ton ship might cut through the waves easily but a 32 foot life boat made hard work of it. The small boat pitched and rolled as it relentlessly headed towards the vessel. To be thrown out of the boat wouldn't be at all healthy in the shark-infested waters either. Then what would they find when they get there............

The progress was agonisingly slow. Lifeboats were never built for speed, more for stability and durability, something the seamen would be thankful for later on. The closer they were to the blazing ship the more apparent it became the vessel wasn't a tanker. It didn't necessarily mean it wouldn't explode but still a lot of fears were eased. Joel could see figures on the foc'sle waving frantically.

Pulling alongside, a huge cheer greeted the lifeboat and a pilot ladder was thrown over. One seaman stayed on board the lifeboat, the rest scrambled up the ladder. Joel could feel the heat on the side of his face as if standing too close to a bonfire. The ship was Turkish and none of the crew could speak English. There was a lot of gesticulating, the Turkish seamen wanting off the ship immediately. It was difficult to assess the situation .
"Deutsch sprechen, Deutsch sprechen!" one of the Turks kept repeating.
"Jah" said seeing the source of the statement.

Joel had never had to use his knowledge of the German language before other than to order a beer or food. He was rusty but with a little sign language thrown in Joel was able to gather what had happened. The fire was electrical and there was no air conditioning on the ship. As a result all the portholes were open and the fire spread causing the housing to be uninhabitable through smoke and flames after a minute and a half. It explained why the Turkish crew were all in their underwear at only 9:30pm. Two crew members never made it out of the accommodation and a third was lying on the deck. He had been on watch and lowered a rope over the bridge but the flames caught up with him and he had dropped ablaze from twenty feet onto steel.

The Turkish crew parted and the man could be seen laid out flat on the deck. Joel told the first officer the situation and they both went to look. The man looked like a huge blister and the smell of burnt flesh made Joel nauseous. He thought the man was dead but then his arm moved.
"Quick get the stretcher from the lifeboat" the officer told one of the other seamen.

Within seconds Joel wished he had been the one sent for the stretcher. The man seemed to regain consciousness and with it came pain. He let out a series of unearthly screams which went through Joel worse than chalk on a blackboard. Joel was in tears as he and the officer strapped the man into the stretcher. The straps had to be tightened but it seemed to add to the man's pain. He stopped screaming as he was being lowered into the boat, the merciful blackness from which he would never wake returned. The man died in hospital three days later.

The lifeboat was overcrowded so Joel and three others stayed behind. Joel wasn't scared anymore. The man's face was imprinted in his memory and the screams reverberated around inside his head. He felt too numb to be scared. The fire showed no signs of abating and the only means he had to get off the ship was getting smaller in the distance. Joel's own ship looked ludicrously far away. An explosion from within the burning housing had the four British seamen ducking for cover. It sounded like a gas cylinder but how many more were there, and was the explosion big enough to hole the ship?

Joel pulled out his cigarettes and handed them round.
"Anyone got a light?" Joel asked.

The seamen all looked at one another then at the housing. As though a pressure valve had been released they all began laughing heartily. To many it would seem like a sick thing to say at such a time but it was a coping mechanism and the seamen were glad of it, the grim reality was too hard to bear.