"Well, finally, we can rest, we have passed Cape Gori," I said, turning to the third mate. "I'm going down to the cabin, I'm damn tired of these storms and bunkering operations. Keep the radar in working order: there may be encounters with icebergs. In case of anything, warn me, do not forget that the Drake Strait is the most stormy strait in the world.
I left the bridge. Finally, the half-month work on bunkering operations is over. The arrival of the Black Sea was expected ahead. The vessel was traveling at a speed of about sixteen knots with a passing wave with a wave height of up to twelve meters and a wind speed of up to twenty meters per second. The rhythmic pitching of the keel was almost not felt with the long length of the tanker.
After all the storms, this evening was kind of special. The bulkheads in the cabin vibrated softly from the operation of the main engine, the lacquered cabin trim plates creaked from the pitching, the table lamp reflected a soft pleasant light. I did not go down to the cabin for almost a month and was very glad to immerse myself in the warmth of the chair and relax.
The phone rang, the third mate called: "The rudder is jammed, the ship does not obey the rudder, it is out of control!"
What could it be? In an instant, I'm back on the navigation bridge, for a few seconds to think. What happened? It may have knocked out one of the steering cars. I order you to switch to the right steering car.
They've moved on. But all the same, the tanker does not obey the steering wheel, the arrow of the axiometer pointer for some reason goes wherever it pleases, the executive arrow is almost not coordinated. What is it? It's dark on the bridge, the wind is whistling more and more. There is a rolling motion on board, the ship is falling away into the wind. I telegraph to the car: "Stop!" They switched to manual control. The third mate reports on the situation in the tiller compartment.
Steering machines continuously turn on one or the other, a green light flashes: "(There is no oil in the steering wheel." Maybe it's a mistake? And how the oil can leave the steering machine is simply impossible. The mechanic calls and says something incomprehensible. There is no report from the tiller department. The tanker is losing speed and is lagging towards the wave.
It turned out that the pipe of the machine pipeline had burst. All the oil was gone from the cylinders of the steering machines. The mechanics, led by the chief engineer, are in the tiller compartment. "Communication by phone is impossible — the intercom panel is filled with oil," the third mate stammers.
The radio operator brings a portable radio transmitter. The tanker begins to rock violently: either the starboard side or the left side enter the water, despite the fact that the height of the side is about five meters. The roll is about thirty—five to forty degrees, it is impossible to stand on the bridge without grasping some ledge.
I give the command: "Turn on the lights. Radio operators be ready!" I go down to the tiller compartment. There is a huge rumble all over the ship — it's chairs and chairs moving, torn from their places.
That's the tiller. Almost the entire crew gathered here. The deck is covered in oil. Mechanics unscrew the tube, sailors and motorists collect the spilled oil, drain it into the tank. Everyone is busy with their own business. I'm expected to give orders, but what can I give them? It is impossible to switch to a spare manual hydraulic drive, there is no oil in the cylinders of the steering machine; according to the will of the wave, the rudder baller goes from side to side, the whole team is on the slippery deck, like acrobats with buckets. In the lower part of the tiller compartment, the pitching feels a little less, but it is impossible to stand on your feet without holding on to anything, but you still need to collect oil and carry out repairs.
On the upper deck! There is a strong grinding and banging. I'm sending up the first mate and the seaman to check what happened there. escortannonce.net