Attracting attention on the newswires is the welcome appointment of Mcebisi Jonas to smooth the waters between the US and South Africa. Unlike so many in political leadership, this gent has enormous credibility and should be the clear front-runner for the presidency when that time comes. He is eminently suited to this tough task that will give him wide exposure to the niceties of international relations.
Attracting enormous attention in Dockland during her two-day stay last week was Cunard’s magnificent Queen Anne, the latest of the Cunard cruise ship quartet. Although Cunard forms part of the Carnival Group, the Queens seem to engender special interest, despite similarities between the three smaller Queens and some other ships within the group.
Passengers in these magnificent vessels will be conscious of the legendary status of Cunard on the North Atlantic passenger shuttle that began in July 1840 and developed into the line that operated the original Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth and Mauretania. Seasoned Docklanders will recall the lime-coloured cruise ship Caronia that called here during several world cruises from 1950 until her withdrawal from service in 1967. Her last voyage - fittingly – was from New York to Southampton, a route on which Cunard had operated regularly until 1967. Two years later, Queen Elizabeth 2 undertook her maiden voyage to begin a cruising career of nearly 40 years that made her the most famous ship of all time.
As Queen Anne passed the breakwater and headed for Walvis Bay on Friday evening, fog blanketed part of Table Bay, and she probably encountered fog during her passage along the west coast.
Captain Copp, master of the Union-Castle mailship Mexican could not have dreamt of the extremely sophisticated navigation equipment aboard Queen Anne when his coal-fired steamer – a third of the length of the cruise ship – passed the breakwater 125 years ago.
When his ship entered a fog bank to the north of Cape Town, he was called to the bridge. Having seen the riding lights of another vessel during short periods of clearer visibility and having heard her foghorn, he feared a collision and altered course. Similar sporadic sightings of Mexican were made from the other vessel, the British transport Winkfield carrying military stores and the Northumberland Yeomanry, destined to augment British forces in the Anglo-Boer war.
Early on April 5, Winkfield struck Mexican that immediately took water. All 102 passengers, some crewmembers and the important mailbags were taken aboard the damaged but still buoyant Winkfield. For more than 12 hours, Captain Copp and his officers tried to save their ship and to make a towing line fast for Winkfield to tow her to Cape Town. The chief engineer reported that the pumps could not reduce water levels in the engine room, and that the bulkhead between the engine room and the hold was showing signs of imminent collapse.
As it was clear that Mexican would sink, Captain Copp and his officers abandoned their ship and transferred to Winkfield.
At the subsequent inquiry, both shipmasters were exonerated from blame for the collision and, with their officers and ratings, were commended for their efforts to save their own ships and to ameliorate the plight of Mexican’s passengers. The soldiers also received commendation for their conduct in assisting Mexican’s passengers.
The original breakwater – passed by umpteen ships after its initial completion in 1891 – has been extended each time a major harbour development occurred. In all weathers, ships passed its light, those in wartime heading from the safety of the harbour into real danger as harrowing weeks lay ahead for their crews. At any minute, a torpedo could blast through the hull plating of their ship; a raider could strike, or the ship might hit a mine, all with devastating consequences for the ship and those aboard.
Inward from wartime voyages, crews could relax a bit as the ship – with the pilot aboard - passed into the shelter of the breakwater, but all on board knew that within days – even hours – once bunkering had been completed, they would pass that breakwater light again, and into the dreadful unknown.
From the breakwater, folks once marvelled at the beauty of the mountain and watched ships pass; others hoped to catch fish for their supper – for some, no fish would mean no supper; tourists at the Waterfront hotels used the breakwater for a pre-dinner walk or an early morning jog.
A gate and fence now deny locals and tourists access to a real leisure area.
“It’s security,” responded an official to my inquiry. “People can get washed off the breakwater,” suggested another, while yet another proclaimed that, as it is on the flightpath of helicopters operating from the helipad at East Pier, it should be closed to the public.
My frequently-suggested straightforward plan for the public to return to the breakwater – a turnstile with a large disclaimer notice - always receives a negative response. If only officialdom could agree to it, everyone could enjoy a saunter along Cape Town’s breakwater, soaking in a spectacular view of the mountain, and watch the ships pass.
Cape Times