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Now they are off for the open road and the
parkway to Longthorpe to collect the first Honorary Secretary of the
day, the Launching Authority of the Gunwade Rescuer who again is ready
and waiting with baited breath (and wellies in hand) for their
arrival. How cosy they look, so compactly arranged in the “transport
of delight” with no room inside for the cold damp chill of this
foggy morning. They are all away in good time to keep the ultimate
appointment of the day.
The party are scheduled to meet with
Doris M. Mann of Ampthill at or a little before 9am. Ampthill is a
tiny village in Bedfordshire approximately 50 miles by road to the
south of Peterborough via the A1(M) and A421. So why are they heading
out of Peterborough with great resolve along the A47 in an easterly
direction at a fair old rate of knots? The fog is thicker and colder
as they press on deep into the fens and astro-navigation is out of the
question, so it is by the following of their noses that the expedition
reaches and circumnavigates the roundabouts of the outskirts of King’s
Lynn and the Hunstanton road until they eventually take the A149
toward Cromer. The fog is so dense as they slip through the Norfolk
heartland that no prying eyes, even if they were open at this ungodly
hour of the Sabbath, are able to observe the mission they pursue so
single-mindedly and with such great camaraderie and excited
expectation. What is this bond of common purpose with which they are
so unified and which has wrenched each one of them away from the
bosoms of their slumbering, long suffering “sailing widow"
wives? With what power of attraction has Doris Mann beguiled and
bewitched them?
As their journey takes them toward the
northern extremities of Norfolk the sun is winning the battle with the
fog and a diffuse yet bright and all pervading light further lifts the
already intoxicated spirits of the travellers and sharpens their mood
of expectation and exhilaration. By the time they arrive on the quay
of the picturesque coastal village of Wells-next-the-Sea the driver,
now heavily berated by his companions over his failure to stop for
victuals at any one of the many burger houses pointed out to him along
the road, stops and decants the entire party into the public
facilities for necessary relief! Having satisfied the urge of nature
and, for some, the craving to burn brown leafy material whilst it is
clamped between their lips, the party set off scouring the village for
“breakfast”! Finally, having paid the modest parking fee of “50p
for any period” the party finish their journey on foot across the
sandy bank and dunes to arrive at the home of Doris Mann, good and
early for their appointment. They find the door open and hear the
sound of a well tuned diesel engine ready for work. Doris was most
definitely “at home” and receiving her visitors "by
appointment".
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The sound of our awed and careful
meanderings around the boathouse were picked up by the sensitive ears
of her full-time carer and answered by a shout from this man who was
to be our skipper for the day, Allen Frary, Doris’ Coxswain
Mechanic. Cordial greetings and offers and acceptances of tea and
coffee were made and exchanged as we made our way into the room at the
top of the short flight of steps with the door convincingly labelled
“Private - Crewroom”. The tide was nearing it’s peak outside the
lookout windows overlooking the closely buoyed channel which connects
Doris’ resting place with her place of work, the waters of the North
Sea off the Norfolk coast and the Wash. All present heard the
oh-so-young sounding lady of Her Majesty’s Coastguard on the VHF
radio exchanging messages with the Great Yarmouth lifeboat and as we
sat talking and drinking our tea it was a timely reminder that the
plans for today at Wells could change suddenly and dramatically should
those gentle yet effective tones be heard calling for Doris'
assistance! Time passed and the long finger started to climb up the
face of the clock toward 9am, the second Honorary Secretary of the
day, the Launching Authority for the Wells Lifeboat, arrived as did
members of the boat and shore crews. It became apparent that the only
thing that would put a stop to today’s practice launch and alter the
plans that Coxswain Frary had made for the entertainment of his lady's
guests was the delightful voice of Her Majesty’s Coastguard should
she come over the ether with a real “shout” for the station.
The Press Officer in the party of
visitors had some time ago intercepted clandestine communications
between his “Chairman from Hell” and representatives of
Peterborough's local media which suggested that some underhand and
undercover arrangements for today’s activities may well have been
negotiated and might well involve the crew of the lifeboat in
practising their Man OverBoard recovery skills. The Press Officer had
come prepared, he was waterproof from the soles of his feet to his
neck and only required the addition of the mandatory RNLI issue
lifejacket to complete the picture and be ready and eager for the
Coxswain to do his worst - even if that meant some deviousness
orchestrated by the “Chairman from Hell“ himself! The other two
seafarers were not so keen and they gratefully accepted the loan of
full oilies and wellies generously offered by the Coxswain as their
own were very usefully back in the car! By just before 9am a fully
kitted crew and squad of visitors were invited by the Coxswain to
board the Mersey and prepare for launching. The visitors were
requested to make their way “below” and remain there throughout
the launching process, emerging later should they wish and feel able,
when the crew’s deck activities were a little less demanding and
space consuming.
The boat rolled forward, borne on her
stately carriage propelled by the submersible tractor behind -
carriage and tractor representing the peak of traditional British
mechanical engineering manufacturing - nothing is too good for the job
or too well made if it is to play a vital role in allowing the
lifeboat to respond to the desperate need of those in peril on the
sea. With a pronounced “bow down” attitude, matching the slope of
the boathouse ramp having travelled just a little way down, the
lifeboat was in the water on this very high tide and, once her
restraining chains were freed in response to smart and firm blows on
the release hooks from the heavy hammers deftly wielded by her crew,
she was “off”. Once on the water a confirmation of the earlier
message sent to Her Majesty’s Coastguard told them that we were under
way and who was on board, the crew list and three anonymous visitors.
Coxswain Frary himself helmed the lifeboat from the outside steering
position as she pulled away from the boathouse and turned to follow
the navigation channel between the red and green lateral marker buoys
out to the red/white striped “safe water mark” fairway buoy. Here
on the edge of the “open sea” the lifeboat held position for a
while whilst the crew set up and calibrated the GPS positioning
equipment and other navigation systems. This was the point of
rendezvoused with their colleagues in the station’s “D Class”
boat who had beaten them hands down in getting on the water first.
There was no race today, this was not a lifesaving dramatic “shout”
to deprive the sea of another of the victims it has chosen but the
start of joint practice and training manoeuvres between the two boats
to advance the skills of the crews.
The boats pressed on out to sea a
little way before someone eventually got very wet! Baptism by total
immersion! But, no it was not the Press Officer but one of the crew of
the “D Class“ that had taken the plunge in the cause of training
an apprentice helmsman of the inshore boat in the techniques of
fishing for survivors and casualties in the water. Stories were told
establishing that that it is common practice for real men to be sent
overboard from the all-weather boat too, but Coxswain Frary has a good
heart and had decided today was not the occasion for such festivities.
Doris’ helm was now in the hands of a trainee coxswain whose
training in the skills of bringing the big boat close alongside the
small inflatable when necessary at sea was a major part of the purpose
for today’s launch. He is senior coxswain of the “D class”
practising and gaining the experience he needs to be named as Third
Coxswain for the twelve metre “Mersey”. Coxswain Frary was asking
his colleagues in the inflatable to position themselves in ever more
awkward and unhelpful positions relative to the direction of wind, sea
and waves and then instructing his trainee to take Doris well away
from them. He would then be required to approach “within inches”
of that little bobbing boat and his trusting, if a little careful,
colleagues riding in her. He was to close-in repeatedly and from all
points of the compass. Not that it was anything to do with the
compass, just experiencing the effects of the wind and sea acting on
her hull and superstructure from all possible directions, learning for
himself how she responds and receiving the wisdom of the Coxswain in
the handling of the lady in the changing circumstances. Today it
looked easy, the wind was not particularly lively and the sea was
quite gentle with us all, even the “D class” found it difficult to
hide between the shallow waves. How different it would be when the
elements are roused in fury lusting for the taking of their prey and
the lifeboat crew are grimly determined that “the sea shall not have
them”.
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The milk did not pass muster and a
suitable replacement was hunted in every locker, bin, box and corner
of the wheelhouse - how would the visitors perform when they were put
to the test as they surely would be sooner or later for there are no
free rides with the lifeboat!
Coxswain Frary, having satisfied himself
that the future third coxswain now had
enough to think about for a couple of
weeks, and the rest of the crew had waited
long enough for a bit of “light
relief”, was still determined not to
overtax himself with all that steering and
stuff. So, he “invited” up on to the
outside helm position, the visiting Press Officer, still almost dry in
his brightly coloured but determined looking dry-suit and his
sailor’s cap bearing proudly the badge of office “stuck on” him
along with the job with which he is so honoured, though inadequate, to
be entrusted. Now, this man’s dealings with the press and officers,
of the Institution, some honorary, some honourable and some neither,
have helped to develop in him a healthily suspicious outlook on life
and he had quietly spotted and noted in the corner of his eye the
nonchalant wandering toward the front of the boat of a man who drives
a “bootiful” lorry most days. He was sure he knew the ultimate
destiny they had in mind for the large plastic fender on a rope that
he was carrying discretely about his person, hanging limply by his
side almost dragging on the deck so that it would not be noticed over
or around Doris’ superstructure. The honoured guest was however
taken in by Coxswain Frary’s obviously well humoured, polite and
accommodating attitude toward his passengers and their comfort and
enjoyment on their once in a lifetime day aboard his boat!
Having taken up position at the
outside helm, with one of the finest sailors the sea has ever seen at
his right elbow, and quickly got the feel of the wheel and the
throttle levers, the Press Officer was invited to open her up, full
throttles for’ard. Hey, do those guys down there on the deck,
particularly those up front, know what to expect ’cos the man on the
helm is a little unsure of how we will all come through this
experience and it looks like “wet“ could become an undervalued,
overused word among Doris‘ little family! One of life’s moments
that can’t be described in words but will live as long as the man
who experienced it. A man could be able to buy and helm the most
expensive, the fastest, the most powerful, most elegant or any boat on
the world’s oceans but he still may not experience the thrill and
emotion of this occasion. The bow dipping, lunging into the water,
rising with the wave - the wake streaming out behind with the white
froth whipped up by the twin, tunnelled propellers urging her
beautiful hull through the water without asking to where they are
straining. Doris is so responsive to the will of her helmsman,
immediately answering to the throttles and the wheel. She responds as
eagerly as the men who trust her with their lives run for the
boathouse when the call comes. “Man overboard” is the strident cry
that, out of nowhere but complacency, hit’s the ears of the helmsman
and tightens his stomach for now he must act and sharp about it! The
man at the bow of the boat has his hand raised, ram rod straight and
pointing with laser like accuracy toward the position of the man in
the water. He adjusts his aim with every twitch of the boats heading
and position, eyes riveted on his target. He points so determinedly
that his arm must surely grow as each second passes and he gives the
helmsman the guidance he needs to bring the boat about and approach
the perishing soul in the water, whilst his colleagues prepare to
pluck out of harm’s way the unlucky mariner.
Dramatic enough for us when it is only
a plastic fender helped to dive overboard by the “bootiful” lorry
driver on a relatively calm day in good weather and bright sunlight -
an awesome nightmare in the dark, for a tired and weary crew after
hours at sea in a gale of wind and mountainous seas!
The Press Officer having achieved a
performance deserving of something better than outright derision in an
easy one, we set off again to give the engines a run until that bit of
seawater in the corner of Coxswain Allan’s eye again irritated him,
triggering a pronounced twitch which mysteriously seemed to cause the
unfortunate fender to once more leap from the guardrail of the boat on
the starboard quarter! The laws are very strict these days about what
you can get away with dumping at sea - the odd lifeboat man might be
ignored but its prison term for dropping a fender and not picking it
up. So, double quick time and once again the blood curdling and
attention grabbing scream, the extended arm and the peering fixed eyes
on the target. The helmsman is hoping, no praying, that Coxswain Frary
will drop him a hint regarding the finer points of boat handling as
the bow begins to point ever more downward in the waves and the crew
up front on the deck begin to wish they too were wearing jazzy
dry-suits, at least up to the waist. This time we again came past very
close to the casualty as is the intention but had to indulge in a
little heavy reversal of the engines as we slightly overshot!
Next was the turn of the Gunwade
Launching Authority to try for the Gold Medal of the Society for the
Welfare and Longevity of Old Plastic Fenders. He did well also but had
benefited from observing the efforts of the man before him who had
been so complimented by our Coxswain Frary. Something, who knows what,
in this second man’s performance attracted the even greater
admiration of Coxswain Frary who immediately informed the first soul
that faced now with an unexpected superior performance his original
award to him of a red badge would have to be downgraded to a green
one! The Race Officer, who it must be said, handled Doris in just the
same way he handles a Public Service Vehicle then followed in taking
over the helm. Despite almost reaching Bridlington in the process of
turning the boat to return on her mission of retrieval and the man
pointing at the position of the casualty resorting to the use of
powerful binoculars to keep it in sight, he too impressed greatly and
was also awarded a red badge. Coxswain Frary then thought about the
paperwork associated with reporting to HQ and explaining any excessive
fuel consumption and decided he had better set course for the fairway
marker buoy and return Doris to the boathouse. The Race Officer was in
seventh heaven when instructed to open her up full throttle and take
her home - 16 knots with the bow out of the water, like a National
Solo on a screaming reach in a force 5, and the crew huddled behind
him at the back of the boat for shelter.
Coxswain Frary brought her down the
channel back into Wells and pushed her bow onto the sandy beach to
meet the shore crew and tractor with its winch rope to haul her out.
She was hauled clear of the water, with the hardest work of the day,
and eventually winched onto her carriage and secured before being
towed round onto the boathouse ramp. Here she was washed from stem to
stern by her dedicated team of shore carers and the Press Officer had
the honour of hosing down half her bottom. More tea and coffee was
consumed in the crowded crew room, personal gear was removed and
returned to its appropriate resting place and at a moment’s notice
the Honorary Secretary would have authorised another launching had the
dulcet tones of the lady watchkeeper of Her Majesty’s Coastguard
called for them. The “Chairman from Hell” had reason to feel
satisfaction, though some of his schemes had not borne the abundant
fruit he had hoped for whilst his team were out with Doris’, he had
worked magic for three regular guys who never dreamed that they would
ever ride on a lifeboat unless disaster had overtaken them, even less
that they would be examined for their “Powerboat Level 2” with
Doris M. Mann of Ampthill under the assessment of Coxswain Allen Frary
and his crew.
Last year, Coxswain Allen
Frary and
“D Class” Helmsman Bob Smith were awarded the “Thanks of the
Institution on Vellum” for their courageous and skilful parts in the
rescue of the yacht Candy and her crew. The Institution also awarded
Vellum Service Certificates to Michael Frary, Alfred Smith, Nicholas
King, Jason Walker, Mark White, Alan Platten, Kevin Parr, Gary Wright
and Martin Emerson. This lifesaving service resulted from the quick
action and keen observance of station Tractor Driver, Philip Eaglen
who received, from the RNLI, the Operations Director’s Letter of
Thanks.
We were privileged and honoured to be
invited out with “Doris” in the company of some of the most
special “ordinary men” that we shall ever meet. We thank the
Honorary Secretary, the Launching Authority for the lifeboat, and our
Branch Chairman who between them decided we represented a suitable
case for treatment! We were not tolerated by the crew, we were
welcomed as members of the team, given the run of the boat and we felt
the sincerity of the lifeboatmen when they say thank you to all those
people who support them through the RNLI. We were three greatly
privileged men from Lakeside, Peterborough and we returned knowing
that those men who go out when all other sailors are heading for
shelter as fast as they can are deeply mindful of and grateful to all
who support them. We thank them in gratitude and humility.
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