Superstorm by Kathryn Miles

Author:Kathryn Miles
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

SANDY IS FORECAST TO BE A LARGE CYCLONE AT OR NEAR HURRICANE INTENSITY THROUGH THE END OF THE FORECAST PERIOD.

That’s what John Svendsen most remembers about the forecast advisory that day—the size of the system, and the fact that it was only going to get bigger.

Svendsen didn’t want to take that chance. And he didn’t believe a ship was safer at sea. He’d just received a new 1600-ton master’s license. He’d spent the last month on the coast guard’s tall ship Eagle, working with that vessel’s first mate to devise an officers’ manual. He’d taken classes in crisis management at Maritime Professional Training, a sprawling forty-five-thousand-foot school in Fort Lauderdale, and courses on weather and risk analysis. The protocols were clear: Obtain all cyclone advisories. Plot the forecasted position of the storm. And, most important, ensure that your vessel will be well clear of any winds over 34 knots. Have at least two escape routes. Make sure there’s a haven you can get to in time. Walbridge’s plan wasn’t going to allow for any of that.

As the crew began to clean up from the navy trip, Svendsen approached Walbridge. Then he did something he’d never done before: He asked Walbridge if they could speak privately. The two walked off the ship and onto a dock on the other side of the pier. Svendsen told Walbridge he was worried about the storm—that it was predicted to be a big system. Really big—“of historic proportion,” even. He told the captain they had other options: They could sail to Bermuda, like the last time. They could stay in New London. They could leave now and get to New Bedford, where a forty-five-hundred-foot stone hurricane barrier protects the entire harbor. Failing that, they could find another safe port. He says he was very assertive. But his captain was even more so.

Walbridge said he had sailed through hurricanes. He’d seen the ship do fine in that kind of weather over and over again.

Svendsen pushed again. The weather maps were saying they would encounter winds anywhere from 35 to 60 knots. Those same charts were saying there was nowhere the Bounty could go to avoid the system. But the captain was resolute. He told his mate that the hurricane was predicted to remain a Category 1 storm and that seas were unlikely to be more than thirty feet. That’s not what the forecasts said, but it was what Walbridge believed: winds below 74 miles per hour; seas below thirty feet. Walbridge reminded Svendsen that the ship had weathered those kinds of conditions plenty of times before during his tenure as captain. He felt comfortable. Besides, he said, the Bounty was in the best shape he had ever seen. He told Svendsen he had no reason to deviate from his intended plan.

Okay, replied his first mate. But I think you should address the crew.

It was a few minutes after 5:00 P.M. The crew could hear Amtrak’s evening train pulling out of the station—they imagined people in suits on their way home to families and two-stall garages.

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