Day 21

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Day 21 - Monday, April 21 2008

Disaster struck as went left Yantian. A small ski-boat came scudding from the blind side of the V-shaped quay just as our stern tug was revving to push us off. The ski-boat capsized in the tug’s backwash and the two occupants disappeared in the whirlpool - swept under the pier at best; at worst into the tug’s screws.

Consternation on the bridge, but the benefit of emergency drills was immediately evident.

Two dinghies were launched from the tug almost instantly, one retrieving the upturned ski-boat while the other searched for the occupants. By the time it took to check that they were not trapped under the hull, the other dinghy was back from under the wharf with two very wet but lucky to be alive passengers.

It could have been a lot worse. Typically, the female rescuee seemed most concerned about the contents of her handbag floating in the water. Tough. The salvage dinghy headed shorewards with the damp husband and wife on board and their ski-boat in tow. Our tugs resumed their manoeuvring, and with very apparent relief, life on the bridge returned to normal.

The accident was a combination of bad luck and carelessness. Admittedly, the ski-boat driver couldn’t spot the tug from the other side of the V (both too low down in the water). But even from his angle, Tosca is big enough for him to see our stern had come a good 50 metres off the wharf, and should therefore be given a wide berth instead of coming inside. A couple of minutes later and he’d have been OK, but even novice sailors should know better than to get close to the big boys when they’re casting off. Tug captains can’t keep looking over their shoulders for stray interlopers.

In open waters, fishing boats often play chicken - heading across our bows at the last minute and narrowly escaping being ploughed under. The skipper says this is a Chinese good luck tactic known as ‘taking the dragon by the tail’. Tosca - and other big ships - are the dragons. If you can get away with it, that’s an auspicious omen for a good catch. Not all go home with full holds, judging by the number of reports we receive to be on the lookout for survivors from sunken fishing boats.

We’re already behind schedule, thanks to Typhoon Neoguri and the thick fog that descended on Yantian late last night to prevent our expected 2300 sailing. After this morning’s hold-up with the capsize, we only cleared the channel about 0930 and now have to calculate if lost time can be made up to meet the Kuala Lumpur ETA.

We must have piled on speed, for the day has flown by (or did that siesta stretch a bit and I lost a few hours?) I know we pick up a southerly current off the Vietnam coast and that helps us along with an extra couple of knots to whisk us towards the Malacca Strait and back to pirate territory.


Anyway, it’s suddenly almost hammock time again, after a farewell-to-China aperitif with Commandant Auvinet, officers, and crew. Followed of course, by course, course, course. Tonight’s main was ‘Adouillette au Moutard’. Had no idea what that might be, a special surprise perhaps? And so it proved. When the plates landed, Linda recoiled with horror: “It’s a bloody haggis!”

Not bad, for a French attempt, though. Et merci, mon freres, pour pensant le cuisine d’Ecossais! Double helpings for me, naturally, as Linda has yet to acquire the cultivated palate necessary even to appreciate a proper haggis made by my own fair hand. Not to worry. I still have the leftover Tarte Bourdaloue in the fridge from yesterday and an extra slice of Baked Alaska from lunchtime just to contrast the flavours.

To cap a splendid evening, we have a rising full moon about a hand’s breadth above the horizon, casting a cobalt and lemon pathway that ripples across the ocean to just below our cabin, dancing the timeless pilot-ladder of a midnight ship to reflect inwards from our open porthole. We’ve dimmed the cabin lights to make the most of it. Even Mills & Boon could not invent something as romantic as this: our very own ‘Moon River’.

‘Much wider than a mile’ could not begin to measure it, far less my poetic inspiration.

As always, we treasure these special moments together. Linda’s already stripped off to nothing but the traditional Kenyan kikoi wraparound that she borrowed from Kimberley. Thanks, Kimbo, I appreciate that. Just don’t put it in your next Dubai Eye news bulletin. I’d hate to disillusion our listeners who have me down as a hard-bitten old hack without a sensitive bone in his curmudgeonly body.

Linda also sends heartfelt acknowledgments for your invaluable contribution to an unforgettable evening.

She says the kikoi was very useful in the heat of the wing deck for doing a lunar flash - with the camera, of course.

Ow! Shit! What was that? Why is the moonlight suddenly accompanied by stars?

On regaining consciousness, I discover Linda has not been on the wing deck after all - she’s been snooping over my shoulder again. No need to hunt for the Famous Grouse tonight. There’s a matching bump on my skull!


Noon position 21◦52.48 N - 114◦15.68 E
Day’s run to noon - 51 miles
8,059 miles out from Khor Fakkan
Heading 213◦
Local time GMT+8
Average speed - 2.1 knots

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