Fire in the Galley

She had been sitting there for a year replacing paint with rust. From a faded blue she had turned into a brown-streaked unusable hulk, time playing host to a future of misery. Listing slightly she no longer stood proud as the large and imposing work horse that she had once been. Empty and without hope she awaited her final voyage to the scrap yard and the razor blade manufacturers beyond. Until suddenly somebody decided that an extension of life would be granted: that a complete overhaul and refit would produce a workable and profitable vessel out of the rust for a few years to come.

Towed to a dockyard nearby she was put in a corner ready to be scrambled over by hundreds of ant like workers: intent on improving her looks and ability to perform in the field. She was a large fishing boat of maybe 25yrs old, solid and with a large accommodation she awaited her make-over, perhaps not with eagerness but at least with a sigh of relief.

The Spectators

I watched this scrap-heap being towed into the corner near us earlier this morning. It looked extremely out of place, especially next to our three newly built vessels that lighted up the night sky with their orange gloss coating. She looked lost amongst the other nearly completed ships that just reeked of new steel and purpose. By lunchtime though the vessel had blended into the dockyard piles of rusting metal and had settled into the corner as if that was her graveyard. No more was thought about this lost lump of scrap until lunchtime.

I was on my way for lunch, out of the engine room a quick stroll around deck and then into the mess - the usual routine. But this time I noticed that all the crew where acting like spectators at a football match. Cheering and whistling, sitting and clapping and looking towards the vessel aft of us. Thinking that a pretty girl was walking on the docks I turned to see what all the fuss was about only to see that the recently parked scrap heap had smoke pouring out of every orifice in her accommodation. She resembled an upside down sieve with every porthole, rust hole, vent and doorway on the main deck gushing out thick white smoke into an otherwise clear sky.

On the docks various bodies could be seen running up and down like chickens in a pen. It was obvious from the first instance that this dockyard was totally unprepared for such an occurrence and did not have a clue as to what to do about it.

The idea of even spraying the vessel as a boundary cooling measure was not initiated. The idea of gaining some perspective as to the scope and the extent of the fire did not materialize and the dockyard's single fire engine, that could have hardly made 10miles per hour on a good day, did not seem to have any equipment, scope or breadth to tackle a fire of this sort. A rubbish bin on fire it could have handled but a large fishing trawler enveloped in a thick and billowing cloud of white smoke it could not.

I decided to join the crew on deck and so after grabbing some lunch and a hot coffee I found my seat on a bollard to see what might happen next. I certainly thought that the fire would be extinguished without further ado, not as it turned out after another four hours. I did warn the Oiler and some others to keep the noise and laughter down, as it is not the sort of response that the dockyard would want to see.

After fifteen minutes of watching the headless chickens running around the Singapore Land Based Fire Service turned up in their bright orange striped uniforms. They turned up with blaring horns in an assortment of command vehicles, fire trucks and engines that dwarfed the dockyards rusted faithful. Within five minutes about twenty of these units and what looked like a hundred potential fire-fighters were milling around the wharf opposite the vessel. Little ants with BA bottles seemed to be charging up the gangway and into the smoke, others slightly-blackened returned.

Fighting The Fire

By one O'clock the fire-fight was well underway. Somebody, presumably the shore-side fire service had initiated some boundary cooling. Hoses from the dock side sprayed jets onto the accommodations sides. Others sprayed from above as dockworker's took part using cranes with people in baskets dangling in the sky.

To what extent the fire was being fought inside of the vessel is unknown. That we could not see from our ringside seats. But by two O'clock nothing much seemed to have occurred with no noticeable change in smoke density or sieve like appearances. The guys in the baskets often lost control of the charged hoses. The action of losing control would cause the basket to swing at the end of the wire and water ended up being sprayed onto other workers, into fire trucks and on the fire-fighters. The poor guys looked like fishes out of water as they struggled to contain and get a grip on the lashing hoses. The worst instance of loss of control was when one fire-fighter accidentally sprayed another basket filled with other fire-fighters. This basket then lost control of their hose and with the two baskets swinging violently and water being sprayed from uncontrollable hoses the place was bedlam. The only way to regain control and to return to normal was for the water to be switched off for a while and for the hoses to be re-gripped tightly.

The next plan was to break some of the accommodation windows, presumably to get some much needed water inside. An initial attempt to crack these windows was made by a swinging a large shackle on the end of a rope. This was attempted from the bridge wing, the window to be broken situation 2 metres further down on the deck below the bridge - probably the Chief Engineers or the Captains Cabin. He doggedly attempted this method for over fifteen minutes, swinging out and in only to see the shackle bouncing off an otherwise bored piece of glass. He then tried lifting it up then rapidly throwing the heavy shackle downward and inwards at the pane of glass. This unfortunately caused mass upset as the pin fell out of the shackle! Luckily the pin missed heads and he soon returned to his task. For a further-fifteen minutes he lifted and threw that shackle around like a curler in practice, but the window remained solid and whole. Eventually some bright-spark decided to use the hanging baskets with a man with a large axe inside - and with easy strokes the required windows were smashed into smithereens.

They sprayed water through these newly opened windows, endlessly and faithfully, but as one cleared of smoke and they went to another, the smoke would return with a vengeance.

This was obviously a pointless exercise as the smoke was coming from a fire in another location. All that the endless pouring of water into the vessel seemed to do was to list it over to an incredible angle. This in itself caused another massive problem and by the time the vessel had a twenty five degree list on her they had to stop the water going in - the problem now being how to get it out. They did eventually manage to get her upright again, obviously using some portable salvage pump - and away they went again, pouring water into her bowls in endless streams until once again a dangerous list took hold.

In Desperation

I couldn't take it anymore. Watching this fire and the ants crawling around just seemed to go on and on. I retired to my engine room to pass the day away and I returned to the scene at 5pm. Somehow they had managed to put the fire out. Black burn marks led outwards from most of the portholes but the smoke had cleared and the firemen seemed to be packing up for the day.

What had caused that fire is anybody's guess. The ship was dead, it had no power. It would be reasonable to assume that some welder had been doing something and some lagging had caught fire. The smoke was very white which would give rise to more smoke than flame and being lagging it is easy to spread through cabins and decks. This is only guesswork and maybe they had tried to start a generator and the exhaust had caught on fire or somebody fell asleep whilst smoking - who knows!

I don't think though that her new lease of life would be for long. Not only was she now a rusting hulk but also one with a severely damaged and burnt accommodation block.

Although the crew and I and half the dockyard personnel sat and watched the scenario play out, I cannot help but think what would have happened if the vessel had been at sea! The Singapore Fire Brigade took four hours, twenty trucks, salvage pumps and high pressure pumps, cranes and baskets and plenty of personnel with BA sets and energy to fight that fire and it still it took them five hours to control. If the vessel was at sea the only change in its status would be the fact that it would have had power available for pumps, etc. I cannot imagine though, even with ships power, that it would have been enough to have fought that fire successfully. Two maybe three sets of BA bottles would have been onboard, full pressure for a maximum of two 2inch hoses would have been available, maybe 12 personnel would have been fit to fight the fire and would the bilge pump have coped with water ingress?

Food for thought!