JACOB MATTHAN
scene.
(This article was originally written on August 16th 1975 as we sailed from Järvisaari to Kapellskär. The pictures for this blog entry were added from our personal files. We wrote to the Managing Director of Viking Lines but got no acknowledgement or reply. The official enquiry covered up the facts and no action was taken, and no compensation was paid to the passengers!)
It was past midnight. Friday the fifteenth day of August 1975, the Independence Day of India, had arrived. Most of the weary travelers had finished their traditional Viking repast, and in true Scandinavian style they were lazily enjoying their schnapps and foamy Danish beer.
In the still of the night, where the quiet drizzle beating on the deck sounded like little children playing softly, and the steady beating of the ship's engines was like a heartbeat, a shrill call from the bar, of indistinguishable content, broke the quietness.
A few seconds later the heartbeat stopped but the ship moved on.
Passengers looked up, wondering what had happened.
Moments later there was massive crunching sound which seemed to come from the very stomach of the massive vessel.
There seemed to be a desperate effort to restart the boat in reverse, but it was too late. The curtains from one of the windows dropped on a happy group of English youths returning home from the Land of the Midnight Sun.
Panic prevailed as seamen, relaxing in various parts of the boat, rushed to their stations, taking the narrow steps three and four at a time. Passengers, realizing that something dramatic had happened, reacted in multifarious ways.
À young Finnish couple rushed down the corridors to their cabin, to wake their children. Fear marked their faces as they struggled with the gleaming double lock. Elderly couples who had retired early to bed, had left their cabins still in their night clothes, some pulling on their bulky life jackets.
A young German mother waited expectantly at the door of her cabin. Drunks had sobered down remarkably quickly. Nobody knew where to go or what to do, and rumors spread like a forest fire, clutching people in its wake.
In the steady hum of voices, two bells suddenly sounded, followed by a loud calm voice, instructing an officer to ring forty-five.
Then again the silence as passengers were stilled by the voice. A minute later the bells struck again. The calm voice this time talked to the travellers, first in Finnish, then in Swedish and then in English.
There was no cause for panic, the situation was well under control, the ship had run into shallow water
The tense passengers, by now realizing that they were not going to be thrown into the rude night, had settled down to easing their emotions by talking.
Friendships blossomed. Some of the more enterprising ones had rushed to their cabins. to collect their cameras.
Just as normalcy was returning the tinkling bells sounded again. Eager ears waited for reassuring news.
This time, however, a curt voice ordered all seamen on deck to man the lifeboats.
Hearts beat faster as the passengers started for their cabins to collect their valuables, as if to abandon ship. Just as the fears were mounting bells sounded again. It advised the passengers not to worry as the seamen were going out in the lifeboats to see if there were leaks from the ship.
Quiet again as the people gradually returned to their cabins, not knowing what to do or what to say.
Some stayed at the gambling machines, others walked around aimlessly. Some walked around the ships decks to observe whatever could be seen in the darkness.
The ships lights lit the waters, through the rain, for about
50 metres. Clearly visible not more than 30 metres away were the grey pine trees.
Yes, indeed there was island not far away. From the bridge of the ship the sight was even more amazing, for right in the ships spotlights, on both sides, was the rocky beach of an island. The ship was firmly wedged on the rocky shore of an island, the Järvisaari.
The sight was comic as well as stupid. The ship had been steered straight onto the beach. Was it really possible - was it the case of a sleepy navigator or a drunken driver?
The official enquiry will undoubtedly reveal the truth, but to an onlooker it was a ridiculous sight.
Flashing beacons could be seen everywhere,
and warning lights lit every difficult position.
Frightened passengers waited for news which never came. The lifeboat going around the ship broke the stillness with its chattering motor.
Sleep came for most as they relaxed from the tension. Before long, day broke and revealed in even greater magnitude the stupidity of the incident.
Nearby islanders came in their boats to view the Viking.
Motorboats hummed around the ship. In the distance one could see the approaching tug almost as green as the islands around the scene.
It was around seven o'clock, and again the bells tolled. The pleasant refreshed voice told the passengers that they would be on their way to Kapellskär within the hour
Passengers crowded onto the decks to see the approaching tug and watched the seamen throw their line across to the stranded Viking. The heavy steel wire rope was pulled aboard and knotted around the black capston.
The Naantali moved slowly away to test the firmness of the rope, but as the tension grew the strands of steel snapped one by one till, suddenly, it snapped altogether and flew hopelessly into the waiting waters.
The tug moved away and the captain of the ship was informed of the situation.
A few minutes later, the captain, dressed in his finery, arrived at the scene and surveyed the damage.
It did not take him long to decide to send out three heavy nylon ropes from the ship to the tug.
In came the Naantali again, and as the Vikings threw the heavy green cords, the able Finnish seamen aboard the tug dragged it aboard and firmly attached it to their swinging hook.
Again the tug moved out to test the tension.
Hundreds of passengers crowded the decks, waiting to see the blast-off. The captain reappeared, this time in shirt-sleeves, crisp and white, surveyed the tense ropes, nodded in approval and returned to the bridge.
The shop's engines started, furiously throwing the still waters away. Slowly the tug started to do its job, pulling gently but firmly.
The ship's engines roared and thrust. Oil spread across the waters. The ropes were holding. The ship slowly began to move, first a millimetre and then a metre and as suddenly as it had occurred, the ship was out in the middle of the waterway.
The Naantali quickly loosened the ropes, dropped them in the waters and then sailed away, back to home, carrying with her the quiet blessings of hundreds of passengers from Finland, Sweden, England, Germany, America and India.
The passengers looked thankfully at the departing vessel, it's days job done.
Cameramen rushed around trying to get the best shot of the point of impact on the beach. Others surveyed the rocky beaches.
Some slept, oblivious of the happenings outside.
The captain tested the engines. A lifeboat boat watched as the ship gently moved back and turned into the correct stream. And then forward.
The captain signalled to the lifeboat and it quickly returned to the mothership, attached itself to the hoist, and was gently hauled upwards.
The waiting patrol boat watched till all were safely aboard and then signalled to the captain, turned and sped away.
Islanders examined the shores where the ship had struck. Just then a beautiful blue four-mast yacht smoothly sailed past the ship.
As it passed, the ship also gently moved into its course and headed towards Kapellskär.
It was half-past eight in the morning, thus ended the dramatic eight hours aboard Viking 1.
