A Father's Day Rescue in "Quick's Hole"
Article and photo by Frank MacKinnon of Flotilla 6-18, D1-NR, Middleboro, MA
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| Charlie and his sons Rich & Alfred |
Once, just once, I was given an auspicious moment onboard a 47 foot Motor Life Boat (MLB). I witnessed first hand the awesome power of a crushing sea amid 15 foot waves. In all that wind and foam, I recall falling out of synchronization with the waves, and if it wasn’t for the boat’s crewperson BM-1 Corinne McClung, USCG, nonchalantly grabbing my belt, probably would have sailed right clear off the flying bridge. But the one memory that vividly stays with me was a simple comment.
In the midst of the chaos the boat’s coxswain related, “I had had the best training in the world for these seas. I grew up in the Westport River, boating all of his life within Buzzards Bay (Cape Cod, MA)! There’s nothing out here today that can harm this vessel but, just the same I think we’ll avoid Quick’s Hole today.”. . .
It’s a slingshot! Situated between Nashaweena and Pasque Island, Quick’s Hole offers mariners a deep water passage that circumvents Cuttyhunk Island. If you will, it’s the “Panama Canal of Buzzards Bay” eliminating 20 nautical miles off the run to New Bedford Harbor. However, unlike the famous Cape Cod Canal it offers treacherous currents with dangerous rocks waiting outside the main channel. It doesn’t take the novice boater too many trips through this pass to understand the derivation of the name.
Local boaters will tell you though, the entire Buzzards Bay area can transform into a tumultuous cauldron in a matter of minutes. Known as the “Afternoon Hurricane,” the relatively shallow bay is immensely disturbed by the diurnal winds. The first indications usually occur around 1100 with the formation of whitecaps. The warning is to be heeded, if the wind and tide are countercurrent, an explosive collision with 3-5 foot waves could turn the placid bay into a frothing mess within an hour.
So it was on 19 June that Auxiliarist Charlie Chaples Flotilla 65, maneuvered his 26-foot vessel, MARY & PHYLLIS, into the southern maw of Quick’s Hole. It had been a successful day, Father’s Day, spent with his two sons, Alfred, 41, and Richard, 42, as five keeper striped-bass had taken up lodging in their hold.
Charlie, 70, a retired bread salesman, was no stranger to the sea having boated all of his life. He spent his younger years as a commercial fisherman. Ironically, this was his second try at becoming an Auxiliarist, as painful arthritis thwarted his first attempt. But it was the lure of the sea and, after all, he did have vast knowledge that drove him on in his endeavor.
It was almost noon as Charlie scanned the southern mouth of the passageway. There was the fishing trawler, PLAYTIME, laying to the west in the channel, and what appeared to be two other vessels in the pass. Ever mindful of bumpy rides Charlie altered to the east of PLAYTIME, the passageway was rough enough without a vessel’s wake. It was about then he realized the two vessels in front of him, Pappa’s Toy and LAST CALL were in tow.
Items in the forward cabin were bouncing around as Charlie was forced to stand with his feet spread apart. His son Alfred simply uttered, “It’s a rough ride ahead.”
Charlie, the old fisherman, was no doubt recalling an event in 1962 when he served on a 96-foot fishing boat that repeatedly buried her bow in this channel under similar conditions. The waves were suddenly 6-feet high and the tow ahead was listing.
Charlie tried taking the waves at the proper angle but green water was bursting over the bow. He could only meander at headway speed in this turbulence. The worst had happened. On paper the ebb current from the south was a noticeable 2 knots but in reality this passageway is known for swirling whirlpools and eddies that can twist you into a broaching sea in one inattentive moment. The wind from the north gusting up to 34 knots was colliding with the current conjuring up an ominous boil.
As the MARY & PHYLLIS crawled within 50 yards of the tow, Charlie was stunned by the rapidity with which the LAST CALL flipped and rolled to starboard. To his disbelieving eyes there were now suddenly five people scattered about 15 yards apart in the boiling water amid coolers and debris. Assessing the situation Charlie automatically called in the “Mayday” to Coast Guard Station Menemsha and turned to his sons saying, “We are going in!”
It was obvious to the old fishing hand that . . .There was no one else to save them. The fishing trawler Playtime was already north of the event. “We had to act quickly. They were dead without (our) action,” he said.
Charlie could see the five men in the water, one appeared to be unresponsive. He knew the water was dangerously cold and that it was probably warmer than the air. What he didn’t know at the time was that only one of the four men thrashing around could swim.
Panic was growing and hypothermia was lurking when Charlie told son Richie to get 3 or 4 life jackets ready. As they maneuvered in closer his sons secured a throwable life ring with a line and began recoveries with a life-and-death game of ring-toss.
Charlie recalls tunnel-vision as his boat was rolling and debris up forward was flying everywhere. He did recall that none of the men in the water had fastened their life jackets. Later he was to learn that the last heroic act of Captain Murray in Pappa’s Toy was to get these men into their life jackets a mere instant before the Last Call was backwashed and capsized.
“First one, then another, it was working,” said Charlie. Then his son screamed, “Bail the boat!”
It was unclear whether they had taken on water with the recoveries or were backwashed but Charlie realized they had to balance the weight in the boat. Thinking a little differently now about those five keeper bass, he ordered the two survivors up front.
The next survivor came aboard, his glasses all askew, wearing the broadest grin imaginable. “I’ve been reborn,” he said. “This smile of relief is an image that will probably linger forever in my memory,” said Charlie.
Breaking his concentration long enough from maintaining a heading into the waves brought a horrifying realization. The fourth swimmer didn’t have his life jacket on properly! With one arm he clung to the overturned Last Call while only his other arm was in his life jacket.
He was slipping into shock, refusing to take the throwable life ring. Realizing they had to get his attention, Charlie approached and blasted his boat horn with no response. It took the frantic cries of his son Alfred pleading, “Don’t give up, we’re going to save you,” that roused him from his stupor.
About this time, the fishing boat Playtime had drifted down to the scene. Its bulk shielded Charlie’s boat prompting him to execute a daring maneuver. In the boiling sea he brought his vessel up nose to nose with the Last Call making a radical turn to port at the last instant. Now his vessel was broadside to the fourth swimmer.
But it wasn’t over! Cries of, “Bill, help these men; lift your leg out of the water,” echoed around the boat. It took the combined effort of Charlie’s two sons to retrieve this victim. He weighed 240 pounds. For their efforts both sons, Alfred and Rich, received leg injuries. Rich also injured his ribs and was to eventually lose two weeks of work.
Perhaps though, the ultimate praise was yet to come for the Charlie’s family. Station Menemsha personnel were hard-pressed trying to save Captain Murray who had been recovered by the Playtime. He had a head injury that was later believed to have precipitated a heart attack.
Impressed that the four survivors were all stable, resting comfortably in dry clothes and sleeping bags, the Station personnel requested that Charlie and his sons continue their mission by taking the survivors to awaiting ambulances on Martha’s Vineyard.
Twenty-five minutes in a lifetime that will be forever remembered by all. Someone very dear to me once wrote that if you can make someone happy or ease their pain then you haven’t lived in vain. Bravo-Zulu, Charlie, Alfred and Rich!
You haven’t lived in vain. Four families from Pennsylvania will forever remember your very special Father’s Day gift.
One final note, Charlie had praised the Auxiliary training in a press interview that night. Curious I wanted to know specifically just what part of the program he found most valuable. Somewhat bashfully he told me he couldn’t say. You see, he’s not crew qualified, he’s just a trainee at Flotilla 65!
I can’t wait to see what he’s planning as an encore performance for his coxswain pin! Until then, Semper Paratus!
~DW