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The Royal Naval Patrol Service - A Very Special Service Indeed
Jimmy Brown
Jimmy Brown explains the blunder that ended his time on the HMS Northern Isles.
 
"You'll be Lucky To Get Off Yourself!!"

At 9.45am she struck the rocks off Durban Bluff with a tremendous crash. She heeled right over to port so that I ended up in a heap in the scuppers of the wheelhouse. Confused shouting from the bridge followed by calls for full ahead and hard a-starboard as she struggled to right herself. We were sailing north parallel to the coast and the change of course was calculated to take her further out but all it did was drive her further onto the rocks worse than ever. I struggled to my feet and made for the wireless cabin, a deck below,, where I immediately donned both my life belts-the regulation inflatable one plus a Mae West type I had scrounged from somewhere-before taking over the watch.

HMS Northern Isles run aground on the rocks off Durban Bluff   As soon as it became obvious she was stuck fast I wireless for tugs but they couldn't budge her. The constant swell hindered matters and the tugs were scared to get close in case they suffered a similar fate and piled up alongside.

After the tugs retired, defeated, the captain ordered all non-essential ratings away in the ship's two lifeboats which left about a dozen of us on board. I asked him if we were liable to get any of our gear off to which he replied, "You'll be lucky to get off yourself!"
Northern Isles was sinking by the stern and it did nothing for my morale to see several loaves floating out of the galley aft as it went under only to be snapped up by some denizens of the deep. Sharks and barracuda abounded in these waters and the prospect of going over the side wasn't particularly inviting, even with my two lifeboats.

Around 2pm the signal station on Durban Bluff started flashing. I was now the only one left on board who could communicate with the shore, my old mate Arthur Griffiths having decided he was "non-essential" and gone with the boats so I had to make a difficult climb to the bridge to take the signal with our battery Aldis lamp. I t was from the South African navy, with whom we'd been working, telling us to pace ourselves under the orders of the Royal Navy forthwith. In other words they wanted nothing further to do with us!

It was now clear that nothing could be done for the old Northern Isles. She was stuck fast on the rocks but there was no guarantee how long she would stay like that so the captain told me to send for the lifeboats to take us off. My batteries were scaling their acid as the ship went down nigh the stern but I raised enough power to pass the message-only to be told that my signals were weak and asked to give a test transmission. This was one occasion when I forgot all about pusser`s procedure and let them have right earful, I can tell you! Next they told me the sea was to rough to risk coming alongside. The wind had been rising steadily and was now near gale force. But how were we to get off?

Ever since we`d struck that morning a beach party had been trying to fire rockets out to us but the wind always blew their lines off course. We hadn't paid much attention to them up until now but with this alarming development we started to take them much more seriously. Leading Seaman Sandy Reid from Buckie, one of the smattering of peacetime sailors found on most RNPS ships, tied all our heaving lines together, secured a life belt to one end, and threw it over the side, letting it drift ashore successfully on the flowing tide. Under Sandy's expert guidance a breeches buoy was then made fast. The last thing I had to do before abandoning Northern Isles was to take a hammer and smash all my radio equipment. It broke my heart to destroy the beautiful American receiver that had brought Vera Lynn to my homesick shipmates so often but it had to be done 'in case the sets ever fell into the hands of the enemy'

Determined to save the best of my gear I dressed in my number ones and took my seat in the breeches buoy looking more as if I was going for a weekend's leave from Sparrow's Nest rather than a dip in the Indian Ocean. Our wise Chief, Jock Cowie, put his watch in a Durex and tied a not in the neck before going over the side. I had an expensive waterproof watch so didn't bother but when we got ashore my watch had stopped while Jock's cheap ten-bob effort was still going.

After we dried ourselves out a little we were taken to a camp in Snell Parade along the Durban sea front. At 4 am next morning, the unearthly hour when the Durban swell was at it's quietest, I was awakened with the some others and we set out in the ship's whaler I an attempt to get back on board the Isles which appeared to be firmly held by the rock under her bow. But the sea was still too rough and the attempt had to be abandoned, much to my relief.

My confidential books had been put in weighted bags and cast over the side as per pusser's procedure but to the mortification of the Admiralty, one of the bags was cast up on Durban beach and all RN codes had to be changed world-wide. The Durban swell got the blame and nothing did and the watches were called off - just in time, as it happened, as some of the wilder sparks were planning to get back aboard some dark night via the breeches buoy to rescue the contents of the ship's locker!


At a subsequent courts-martial the captain of the Nortern Isles and the officer of the watch were found guilty of negligence and received sentences which included each to be 'dismissed his ship' As Northern Isles had died miserably within sight of shore the formal naval language seemed ironic.