Wahine wrecking, anniversary.

Fifty-two years ago today, the interisland ferry Wahine sank in Wellington harbour. And fifty-two people died, one several weeks later, from injuries sustained in the wreck.

The sad story had its genesis several days earlier, when a tropical storm formed to the far north of New Zealand.  It was expected to head east, and the Chatham Islands were braced for it.  Instead, it veered, heading for the centre and south of the North Island.  By this time it had a name -- hurricane Giselle.

We were living on the east coast at the time, and our son was a small baby.  My mother-in-law, a nervous Londoner who had never experienced a hurricane before, had come to stay with us.  It was a visit she would never forget.

During the day of April 9, the winds and rain were terrific.  The sound was like an express train, roaring down endlessly upon us.  By nighttime, all four of us were hunkered down in one bedroom, frightened and deafened.  Then, abruptly, about midnight, there was silence.  The eye of the storm was directly above us.  The rain and wind had completely stopped.  We went outside, and in a hole in the sky, right overhead, we could see stars.  Then the wind roared again -- from the other direction.  The hurricane was whirling past us, on the way to Wellington.

At the same time a deep depression was moving north from the South Island, after drenching the citizens of Christchurch.  The two storms clashed in the early morning of April 10, at exactly the same moment that T.E.V. Wahine was entering the Wellington heads. On board were 610 passengers and a crew of 125.  None of the passengers or crew expected a difficult crossing.  The word was that the cyclone was still too far distant to be a problem. There was only a slight breeze, and the weather did not seem bad or the sea rough.

The storm struck with massive force -- with a gust of over 150 km, which sent the ship lurching to port. Then, when she recovered, the helm would not respond.  The sea was so turbulent that the propellers were often out of the water.  The ship's radar failed and visibility deteriorated quickly to zero.  Then, with a shudder, the ship hit Barretts Reef. 

Most of the passengers did not even notice the strange thump as the Wahine crashed.  On the bridge, however, urgency took over.  Alarm bells were rung, and a loudspeaker announcement was called that the ship was aground.  All passengers were requested to return to their cabins, collect life-jackets, and go to their allotted muster stations.  It was like the emergency drill that starts every cruise ship voyage, but the emergency was real.

Anchors were dropped, but did not hold.  For two hours they dragged, as the ship was slowly swept into the harbor.  Finally, they held near the beach at Seatoun, and two tugs were sent out into the appalling conditions.  One was forced to turn back, but the Tapuhi managed to get a tow line to the listing ship.  Ten minutes later, however, the line parted, and it was impossible to get another attached.   A harbour board launch arrived, and the deputy harbour master, Captain Galloway, risked his life leaping onto the ship.

And all the time, the ship was leaning over further, as the vehicle deck was flooded with incoming water.  I remember the dismal radio messages that came over the air, while the whole country listened, and waited.  Television was in its infancy in New Zealand, but black and white images flickered as the tragedy unfolded.  

At 1:15 pm, the order to abandon ship was given.

There was chaos.  Confused passengers went to the high side of the ship, where it was impossible to launch the lifeboats.  Others had taken off their life jackets, to use them as pillows.  The first lifeboat to get away was almost immediately swamped. 

Most managed to get to the beach at Seatoun,  while others were blown to Eastbourne.  On both beaches, locals had assembled to haul the boats and rafts through the raging surf, and carry stricken passengers on shore.   Small craft had arrived, in a gallant effort to assist.  Another ferry, Aramoana, stood by to pick up people from rafts. 

At 2:30 pm, with a final groan, the Wahine collapsed into the deep.  The last to leave the ship was Captain Hector Robinson, who dived over the side, into the cold.

Rescue was a nightmare.  Because of the storm and the state of the roads, it was extremely difficult to get vehicles to the beaches where the rafts, lifeboats, and bodies washed up.  Many had drowned.  Others died on the beach, out of reach of medical help. The death roll included 44 passengers, 6 crew, and one stwaway.  Poignantly, the dreadful scene unfolded within plain sight of the city.