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Multihulls Magazine, June 1996--
Triad is a 42 foot Dick Newick designed Creative class trimaran with a beam of 28'6". She was built of cold molded mahogany for the 1982 Route du Rhum race by the Le JŽloux brothers of Trinitè Sur Mer, France. She sports a 50 foot rotating wing mast with 914 square feet of working sail, and carries a seven foot bowsprit from which she flies a 1,100 square foot asymmetrical spinnaker.
Crew members Rick Schnure, Nick Bryan-Brown, and Daren Donovan set sail from Bermuda, bound for Buzzard's Bay, Mass.
Triad departed under motor from St. George's, Bermuda bound for Buzzard's Bay, Mass. at 20:00 (8 PM) local time on Saturday, June 22, 1996 with four men aboard: Tom Cox, owner and skipper, with Nick Bryan-Brown, Daren Donovan, and Rick Schnure as crew. We proceeded out of the Town Cut channel and raised the mainsail with 2 reefs and our #2 (working) jib in the vicinity of "The Spit" buoy. The weather was fair with wind from the southwest around 20 knots and we sailed towards the "Kitchen Shoals" buoy (northeast) averaging 15 knots. Once abreast of "Kitchen Shoals" we altered course to 352ˇ, the rhumb line (direct route) to Buzzard's Bay and held that course throughout the night.
In the early morning of Sunday, June 23, the wind shifted to the west and moderated; we shook out the reefs and held to the working jib. By 08:00 we struck the jib and were motoring with variable winds and a light rain falling as a frontal system worked its way back and forth over us. At 10:00 the wind filled in, fifteen to twenty knots from the southwest, and we hoisted the genoa and sailed all day, averaging 15 knots good on the rhumb line - the spray was flying, Triad was going great guns, lifting foil engaged. By 18:00 the wind had increased to twenty to thirty knots, with seas running four to six feet and we were cranking steadily along at 18 knots. I called for two reefs in the main; the crew also struck the genoa, lashed it to the lifelines, and raised the working jib to make for more comfortable night sailing. About 22:30 the wind shifted to the NW and we altered course to 20ˇ - 30ˇ magnetic to keep sufficient way into the seas, making 8 to 10 knots, sometimes doing 12 in the gusts as we surged over the waves. An occasional boarding sea would wash the deck as is normal for Triad under those conditions.
I went off watch at 02:30 (Monday, June 24) and retired to my bunk. About an hour later, I heard a loud bang, then the on-watch crew called me back on deck; they thought the headstay had parted as the lee rigging had gone slack and the mast was leaning to leeward. I assessed the situation, determined that the headstay was intact, and that the mast, normally mounted on a gimballed maststep eight inches above the deck, had settled directly onto the deck. We realized that the leech tension of the main was helping to support the mast, and dared not drop the main or run off lest the mast lose its tenuous grip on the maststep. In an attempt to stabilize the rig, I tied off the spinnaker halyard to the stemhead fitting on Triad's bow, lowered the jib, ran the jib halyard aft to a cleat on the sterncastle, and tensioned both halyards at their respective mast-mounted winches. The crew remained in the cockpit, steering the boat and keeping watch. There was a vessel aft to port about a mile away; I could see its green running light, but could not raise it on VHF channel 16 during the fifteen minutes or so that it was visible.
My efforts did stabilize the mast temporarily, but about an hour after the first report the mast started to self-destruct, splitting open at the back and mushrooming under at the sides. Next, the rotator boom snapped off the front of the mast, and I could see the rig starting to "walk" forward; I heard a lot of creaking and groaning from the unsupported deck beneath the mast. I rushed below and saw the deck beams flexing and the deck starting to splinter; I realized in a flash that if the mast came through it could hole Triad below the waterline, flooding the main hull, so I snatched the life raft out of the forepeak and handed it aft to Daren. A moment later, the mast did crash through the deck like a pile driver, but came down askew when the rigging went slack. The butt of the mast bore against two stringers on the starboard topsides inside the hull. I saw that those stringers were flexing and giving way, so I cut off the spinnaker halyard forward, and pulled the clevis pin from the windward shroud turnbuckle toggle, allowing the mast to sag off further to leeward. The mast cracked at the hinge point where it met the deck, breaking a five foot section off its base; this relieved the strain on the hull which was by then fractured through, leaving two one inch wide by one foot long gashes, fortunately above the waterline. We transferred the jib halyard, now secured aft, to a winch, and cranked the rig (mast, boom, and mainsail) out of the water and back on deck. Meanwhile, a breaking sea dumped about 5 gallons of seawater through the bathtub-size hole in the deck. By now dawn was breaking and the wind moderated to about 10 knots out of the north. I took inventory of the damage, ascertained that we were stable (not flooding), and re-grouped with the crew. I made a log entry at 05:30, noting our position at 36º24.8'N, 66º59.6'W.
Splintered deck and gaping hole. We did save part of the rig.
We assessed the situation, and decided to take all possible means to save the vessel and rescue the crew. This entailed making a battle plan and setting off the EPIRB (a 121.5 MHz emergency beacon) which we did at 05:45 . We cleared the deck of debris in preparation to patching the holes, so that we could motor towards the nearest shipping lanes, shown on the Pilot Chart to be thirty-five and forty miles north of our position. We proceeded to extract the broken pieces of mast from down below, strip the battens and remove the mainsail from the broken mast, disconnect the shrouds from the spar (so that in the event of worsening weather we would be able to dump it), and secure the boom to the deck. I went below, pumped the bilge, and got together a handful of sheetrock screws, a tube of Life Caulk and a box of underwater epoxy with which I planned to patch the holes, using the broken pieces of decking, some hatch boards from the cabin sole, the seat from the bosun's chair, and some spare spruce 1" x 2" rudder break sticks as stock.
While making these preparations, at 09:45 we heard a transmission on VHF channel 16; it was the U.S. Coast Guard Air Rescue Team 1504 who had intercepted our EPIRB from their C130 aircraft. They verified the emergency and asked our position, (36ˇ22.5'N, 67ˇ02.5W), the condition of the vessel, the number of crew aboard, and whether anyone had sustained injuries. I requested 25 gallons of gasoline for our outboard so that we could motor back to Bermuda - they had none. They advised us to stand by on channel 16, and within half an hour returned to inform us that they had identified two merchant vessels, the motor tanker Venetia outbound from the Abacos to Nigeria, and the cruise ship Royal Majesty bound from Boston to Bermuda, both of whom they would divert to our assistance; the vessels were expected to arrive at our position in about 4 hours. I asked them to ascertain if either vessel had gasoline aboard, and if the Venetia had a crane capable of lifting Triad aboard as deck cargo (I mentioned I'd never been to Nigeria, to the chagrin of my crew). The answer to my queries was in the negative; I therefore requested transport to Bermuda aboard the Royal Majesty, much to my crew's relief.
The Ship! The Ship!
The cruise ship Royal Majesty came to the rescue.
We proceeded to pack all our gear for evacuation; I removed all I could of Triad's electronic and mechanical gear for safe keeping, then packed my personal effects, along with a case of Gosling's Black Seal rum and two cases of Barritt's Ginger Beer (a man has to have priorities in these situations). We secured the mast and boom as best we could, furled and tied the sails on deck, fueled and tested the outboard motor, lashed a closed cell foam mattress over the hole in the deck, and got docklines and fenders ready. I communicated with the bridge of the Royal Majesty via the Coast Guard because the shipboard vhf would not allow transmission even with a coil-up emergency antenna fitted, and our hand held unit had only limited range which was inaudible to others. The Air Rescue Team said they would notify my wife of our delayed arrival, which they did; they also requested I turn off my EPIRB so as not to interfere with other rescue operations, which I did. (Albeit reluctantly, as I knew Triad would be difficult to track without a homing beacon).
Barbara Vasile, a passenger aboard the Royal Majesty took this picture of the rescue operation. The crew or Triad, Daren Donovan, Nick Bryan-Brown and Rick Schnure, as well as the owner/captain Tom Cox were lifted aboard, but the trimaran was abandoned.
At 13:45 the Venetia arrived on the scene and stood by to leeward; at 14:45 the Royal Majesty hove to a half mile to weather. We started the motor, and maneuvered alongside the Royal Majesty where their crew held our docklines while we off-loaded our gear. There was a three foot swell running which caused the two vessels to bump repeatedly, making for unstable footing, and shattering Triad's port toerail. We had a disabled crewman aboard (Mr. Bryan-Brown has multiple sclerosis and walks with the assistance of a leg brace and cane) whom we chair-carried to the rail where we strapped him into the lifting harness lowered to us by the crew of the Royal Majesty; they then hoisted him aboard. The rest of us climbed up the Jacob's ladder. Triad was set adrift at 15:44, her position 36ˇ20.01N, 66ˇ57.09 W, 250 miles north of Bermuda, according to the official Coast Guard report. We were taken to the ship's infirmary for checkups, after which Captain Galiatsatos met with us and had cabins assigned to us for the passage to Bermuda. He introduced us to our fellow passengers that evening at the Captain's cocktail party; we were an instant hit, with people pressing us with their well wishes, and to have their pictures taken in our company. At dinner we dined sumptuously ("Like horses," quipped some of our table-mates). I personally sampled each dessert - they were all good.
We arrived in St. George's the following morning, Tuesday, June 25. At 10:00 Captain Galiatsatos invited us to his cabin for a debriefing and a radio interview with WBZ, Boston, which became a statement concerning our shipwreck. He kindly offered his assistance in any way possible, and directed me to the Purser's office where I could establish communications to effect Triad's salvage.
I made many calls during that first day in port from the Royal Majesty's land telephone line, all of which I logged in my journal: to my insurance agent informing him of the loss, to Mills Creek Marine, Myer Industries, and Octopus Marine in Bermuda for salvage quotes, to Tom Bandoni of Ocean Response in Newport, Rhode Island, and to Charlie Mitchell of Fairhaven, Mass. whose 63 foot twin screw steel tug had the capability but was already engaged in a two day operation. Charlie, a professional salvor of many years estimated the chances of recovering Triad to be 50% if the operation were started immediately and a spotter aircraft employed; a two day delay would reduce the odds to 25% and without air support the chances were slim. Lieutenants Shipler and Carton, commanders of the U.S. Coast Guard First and Second Districts respectively both declined air support as no lives were in peril. I then interviewed all the air service providers in Bermuda and found one helicopter with a 50 mile range. I then called Dave Merena, a friend from Gloucester who is a Delta Airlines pilot and flies his private on charters out of Beverly, Mass.
It proved to be Messrs.. Bandoni and Merena who were ready, willing, and able to perform the salvage functions I required. Mr. Bandoni located the Osprey, an 85' trawler then fishing on the Grand Banks off Newfoundland some 350 miles distant from Triad's last known position, and within two hours of my initial conversation with him, around 15:30 (local Bermuda time) on June 25, she was diverted to Triad's last known position. The clock was ticking, and Triad was drifting inexorably away. Bob Rice of Weather Window, Wolfeboro, New Hampshire was engaged to calculate the probable drift pattern Triad would take from the time she was cast adrift until Osprey could reach her three days later, and to provide weather forecasting and routing services for the trip.
By Wednesday, June 26 Osprey was well underway. That morning, Mr. Merena arranged for a charter from General Aviation Services of Beverly, Mass. of a twin engine Cessna 421-B Golden Eagle with Air America modification (extended range) as the spotter aircraft. We decided to deploy the Cessna after Osprey got to Triad's last known position as it would have limited search time. I called Mr. Bandoni and gave him the green light to deploy the aircraft at my expense; "Received your message. Will do it," was his response, about 11:45 Bermuda time.
On Thursday, June 27, about 12:30 local time, Osprey arrived on site and motored towards the northeast. The Golden Eagle was launched with a crew of three aboard: pilot John Philbrook, co-pilot/navigator Brian Minnis, and spotter Sergei Sikorsky, a multihull sailor from Newport. They flew directly to Bob Rice's forecast drift position, 45 miles northeast of Triad's cast-off co-ordinates. At 14:30 as the aircraft completed the first pass over the center of the calculated drift position, and just before she slipped out of view under the wing, Mr. Sikorsky spotted Triad jogging along, beam to the seas. The Golden Eagle diverted to Osprey, radioed on low power VHF, and directed the trawler toward Triad. A line and a man were put aboard four hours later and the long tow homeward was begun.
I maintained contact with Mr. Bandoni constantly during the recovery operation; I felt it my duty to remain in Bermuda, and make myself available for communications. Osprey encountered adverse winds and current, with seas at times as high as twenty feet, and had to stop twice a day to put a man aboard for safety checks and dewatering. Valuable input was obtained from Bob Rice, routing Osprey around a warm eddy, across the Gulf Stream, and through a half gale. Several times the tow was lost and Triad had to be re-secured; the daggerboard and lifting foils were damaged in the process, and the Yamaha outboard motor flooded with salt water.
At 01:30 on Tuesday, July 2, eight days after the ordeal began, Triad was towed into Newport Harbor and tied to a municipal mooring. The next day I flew home to Gloucester to start the reconstruction process of my beauty and my beast.
Aftermath
Triad is currently hauled out at Conanicut Marine in Jamestown, RI awaiting repairs. I learned a few lessons from this experience. It is critical to have an adequate inventory of safety equipment aboard an ocean going yacht; we did and it was invaluable. It's a good idea to monitor VHF channel 16 when making a passage; the nearby vessel didn't and could have been of assistance should our situation have become life threatening during the demasting. An encoded 406 MHz EPIRB would have been a valuable asset to assist in the recovery of the vessel, an aspect I had not previously considered; and setting a sea anchor would have helped reduce the drift. Perhaps, in hindsight, if I had pulled the pin earlier instead of trying to hang on to the rig Triad would have been spared the holing. When forced to abandon a vessel offshore, I learned to leave her in as operable condition as possible with everything secured and all mechanical devices in their stowed (for towing) position. Many consider me to be lucky; in my limited experience luck is when preparation meets opportunity. I consider myself to be fortunate - no one got hurt, Triad survived, and I'm here to tell the tale.
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