A Dark and Stormy Night

Probably the most freighting night of my life was spent at sea. We were off the coast of Charleston S.C. on board the research vessel R/V Atlantis II, operated by the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. On board was the 3 man deep diving submersible, Alvin, for which I was a pilot and recovery swimmer.

We were new to this ship having just spent the last 8 months transferring Alvin from the R/V Lulu, a 105-ft. catamaran and a ship of limited ability. The Atlantis II is a 210-ft. vessel with twin screws and a bow-thruster and a much more capable and comfortable vessel. Alvin is recovered by a large 44 ft. A- frame crane that hangs over the stern of the ship and lifts the sub from the water and swings it inboard to set it on deck.

Alvin is owned by the U.S. Navy and they have the final say as too how operations are conducted. One of the things they insisted on was that we should do 50 unmanned launch and recoveries before they would certify the A-frame for manned use.This meant launching the sub and opening the hatch on the surface to get the pilot and 2 observers inside. The reverse was true for recovery. A 17 ft. small boat was used to shuttle personnel from the ship to the sub.

It was early in the year so it got dark around 5 PM. We had come down to Charleston from Woods Hole to escape the cold of winter and complete the set up of the sub on our new mother ship. On the 3^rd dive ever done from the Atlantis II. we launched Alvin in a 6 ft. sea and it dove to a depth of about 3500 meters. At this depth it takes Alvin about 2 hours to reach the bottom and the same amount of time to transit back to the surface.

On this day the sky was heavily overcast with a temperature in the low 50’s. Towards the late morning the seas began to build rapidly and it began to rain hard. At 2 PM, The crew chief, Dudley Foster called down to Alvin that the weather was deteriorating rapidly and they should surface immediately. By the time they reached the surface the seas had now built to 18 to 20 ft. These are really big waves. One of the most dangerous parts of the whole operation is the launching of the small boat. We were just able to do this. Craig Dickson was the coxswain on this recovery. Once the small boat was in the water it was too rough for my swim partner, Jonathan Borden and I to climb down the ladder into the boat so we jumped from the side of the Atlantis II and swam over.

Now let me tell you, if those waves looked big from the Atlantis II they were down right mountainous from the small boat. All three of us had to wear divers' masks to be able to see as the rain really hurt on the face. We would race to the top of a wave, have 3 seconds to look before the nose of the boat would drop and we would scream down the other side only to surf up to the top of the next one.

We were getting nowhere fast. After close to a half-hour of this we still had not spotted Alvin. The Atlantis II had a VHF direction finder and was able to vector us to the vicinity of the sub. Once we located it, Jon and I swam over and got aboard.

Normally the coxswain will drop you 10 ft. from the sub but on this night, given the sea state, Craig dropped us about 50 ft. away. On any other day day this would be an easy swim, but in 20 ft. seas with 35kt winds and heavy rain it was somewhat difficult.

We had the sample basket safety lines wrapped around our waists and I was holding the sound powered phone above the water while swimming to the sub. The sound powered phone is used to talk to the pilot from the outside. When the phone gets wet as it did this night, you have to take the mouth piece and the ear piece out of the handle and bang the water out of them. Trying to do this while hanging on for dear life as the wildly lurching sub rose up on these huge waves was no simple task. Once I made contact with the pilot inside who on this day was the chief pilot, Ralph Hollis, we had to attach the basket safety lines. These are 10-ft. ropes that you have to hook up from to front of the sample basket to the sail to prevent the basket from accidentally falling off. The basket is located on the front of Alvin about 8 feet below the surface.

Trying to swim down through the churning seas to do this was almost impossible. We got one line on and decided that was going to have to be good enough.

I get back on the phone to the pilot and tell him that there is several inches of water over the hatch. That’s just tough he says, as we still have to get the 3 people out. By talking to Ralph on the phone and him talking to Capt. Baker on that ship by radio it’s decided to let Capt. Baker try an idea of his. He begins to sail the Atlantis II around the sub in tight circles trying to flatten the seas out a bit. He does about 4 circles around the sub and from my point of view nothing has changed. Of course the view from standing on top of the sub is pretty grim anyway.

The decision is made to open the hatch. When it flies open the 2 scientist come out like they are shot from a cannon. No one wants to be trapped inside if the sphere floods and make one final trip to the bottom. Ralph is the last one out. He slams the hatch shut and secures it. Back on deck we will find 10 gallons of seawater inside. This does wonders for the electronics.

There are now 5 of us standing on the outside of the sub as Craig comes in to pick up the crew. Once they are safely in the small boat the Atlantis II sets up for its recovery approach. What they will normally do is pass a towline to the small boat and they will bring it over to Alvin. The swimmers then hook it to the sub and it is pulled in until it is beneath the A-frame with its lift-line.

There is no way that was going to happen today. Instead they streamed the towline out behind the ship and cut across our bow. We will then grab it as it goes by and hook it up. This has never been done before but by some stroke of luck we get it done in the first pass and the begin hauling us in.

It was bad enough standing on top of the sub in these seas but now as we are being pulled towards the ship the sub is actually pulled under the tops of the waves. Jon and I are forced to stand behind the sail and time holding our breath as the sub is pulled under at the crest of each wave. Between wave peaks we have a few seconds to yell encouragement to each other over the shrieking wind. We just can’t believe we are in this position. In the end we can do nothing but make jokes about it. We’re both scared and not trying to hide it. The potential to be killed or maimed is enormous.

We are rising up to a point that we are looking down on the crew standing on the ships deck. A few seconds later we are straining our necks to look up and see them. All the while we are being pulled closer to where we will be beneath the A-frame. The very hard steel A-frame.

Eventually, we are 10 ft. from the stern of the ship and rising so high that I can reach out and touch that steel. There are 2 lines to attach to Alvin. The stern line is 1 inch thick and has a 5 lb. steel hook at the end. The main line, which will go on first, is a 4-inch thick synthetic rope with a soft loop in the end. When it comes down it’s like grabbing a 150-lb. piece of well-cooked pasta. It’s very soft and floppy. It takes both of us to manhandle the loop around big titanium “T” just aft of the sail. As the sub rises, all the slack in the line falls on top of me but the line must be held in place. When the sub falls to the bottom of a wave that line comes taut and turns as rigid as a steel pipe. This sequence repeats itself over and over.

While I tend the mainline Jon turns aft to hook up the stern line. I am not paying attention to Jon but I see the crew on deck yelling to get my attention and look aft. No Jon. He was swept overboard by the last wave and I am left standing there by myself.

The A-frame operator has now taken a lot of the slack out of the main line and it looks like the constant tension winch will stop the loop from falling off the big “T”. I turn around and there’s the stern line swinging in the wind. Without thinking I fall flat on my stomach while grabbing the hook on the way down and snap it into place. No sooner does the hook snap into place and my world is upside down, sideways and free-fall. That last breaking wave has swept me from the back of Alvin and I am tumbling into the water.

This whole event is being watched by the people in the small boat. Craig has already picked Jon up and has never lost sight of me. As I break the surface I hear Jon calling “are you all right?” and Craig brings the boat right up to me and they haul me aboard just in time to see Alvin being lifted clear of those murderous seas and set safely on deck. But the party is not over yet. We still have to get back aboard the Atlantis II.

As I said before, getting into the small boat from the ship is difficult and dangerous in these seas. Getting back aboard is even more so. Instead of the usual ladder to climb up the boson has replaced it with a cargo net hanging over the side. This will give a lot more hand holds to grab should any one fall. The Atlantis II steers a course to give us a lee on that side of the ship and Craig brought the boat along side. Once close enough Jon and I throw bow and stern lines to the waiting deck hands. We rise up high enough on each wave to almost step onto the deck. It’s at this peak that you have to time your jump. You have to time this right; you only get one shot. The scientists are the first to go and are helped over the rail by the deck crew. Ralph is next followed by Jon then me. The crane hook is then lowered to Craig who hooks up the boat and stays aboard while it is hoisted from the sea and set on deck.

Now, after using up a 2-year supply of adrenaline, I’m sitting on the deck with by back against a bulkhead, dripping in my wet suit trying to figure out why I’m still alive. The chief pilot walks up to me and says “ The starboard lower light is out and the port manipulator doesn’t work. Fix them before you knock off. 

Oh well. I guess that’s life in the Alvin Group!