The Wreck Of The Mary Deare

They had used foam extinguishers on the fire. But the heat had been so intense that they hadn’t been able to get inside the room. What had finally put the fire out was the partial collapse of the roof, which had allowed the water from a breaking wave to engulf the flames.

The wind was now Force 12 in the gusts — hurricane force. He had hove-to then, putting the ship’s bows into the wind with the engines at slow ahead, just holding her there, and praying to God that the seas, piling down in white cascades of water on to the bows, wouldn’t smash the for’ard hatch covers. They had stayed hove-to like that, in imminent danger of their lives, for fourteen hours, the pumps just holding their own, and all the time he and Rice had kept moving constantly through the ship, to see that the bulkhead — which was leaking where the weight of water was bulging it, low down near its base — was properly shored, to keep the crew from panicking, to see that they kept to their stations and helped the ship in its struggle against the sea.

About 06.00 hours, after twenty-two hours without sleep, he had retired to his cabin. The wind was dropping by then and the glass beginning to rise. He had gone to sleep fully clothed and two hours later had been woken by Samuel King, the Jamaican steward, with the news that Mr Dellimare could not be found.

The whole ship had been searched, but without success. The man had vanished. ‘I could only presume that he had been washed overboard,’ Patch said, and then he stood silent, as though waiting for Holland to question him, and Holland asked him if he had held any sort of enquiry.

‘Yes. I had every member of the crew make a statement before Mr Higgins, Mr Rice and myself. As far as we could determine, the last man to see Mr Dellimare alive was the steward. He had seen him leave his cabin and go out through the door on to the upper-deck leading aft. That was at about 04.30 hours.’

‘And nobody saw him after that?’

Patch hesitated, and then said, ‘As far as anybody could find out — no.’

‘The upper deck was the boat deck?’

‘Yes.’

‘Was there any danger in going out on to that deck?’

‘I don’t know. I was on the bridge dealing with the fire.’

‘Yes, but in your opinion — was there danger in crossing that deck?’

‘No, I don’t think so. It’s difficult to say. Spray and some seas were sweeping right across all the decks.’

‘Right aft?’

‘Yes.’

‘And Mr Dellimare was going aft?’

‘So King said.’

Holland paused and then he asked, ‘Have you any idea where Mr Dellimare was going?’

‘No.’

‘In view of what you have told us before, would it be reasonable to assume that he might be going aft to check that the hatches of the after-holds were still secure?’

‘Possibly. But there was no need. I had checked them myself.’

‘But if he had gone to check those hatches, it would have meant going down on to the after well-deck?’

‘He could have seen the state of the hatches from the after end of the upper deck.’

‘But if he had gone down, would it have been dangerous?’

‘Yes. Yes, I think so. Both well-decks were being swept by the seas.’

‘I see. And that was the last anyone saw of him?’ The court was very still. The old ship, with her waterlogged bows pointed into the gale and a man’s body tossed among the spindrift out there in the raging seas; there wasn’t anybody in the room who couldn’t see it for himself. The puzzle of it, the mystery of it — it held them all enthralled. And behind me somebody was crying.

Then Patch’s voice was going on with his story, nervous and jerky, in tune with the sense of tragedy that was seen only in the imagination and not in the cleansing, healing atmosphere of salt wind and spray.

The wind had fallen, and the sea with it, and at 12.43 hours, according to the entry in the log, he had rung for half-ahead on the engines and had resumed course. As soon as it was practicable he had ordered the hand pumps manned, and, as the bows slowly emerged from the sea, he had set a working party under Rice to repair the damage to the for’ard hatches.