A True-Life Sea Story - Cruise Line Fans: Cruise Forum, Reviews and Chat From Real Cruisers

stowaway2k · 07-05-2005, 02:31 AM

Hello,

I was just in a discussion about my experiences on QE2, and this story came to mind...I thought I would share it with you.

Last December, 2004, I crossed on QE2 from Southampton to New York, and then continued down from New York for the holidays in the Caribean.
The crossing was a bit rough, but fun, and our entry into New York was icy.
The Caribbean at Christmas was just wonderful. Beautiful weather and smooth seas. For six hours one day we even sailed with Queen Mary 2, side-by-side.
Our last port was San Juan, on New Years Eve.
QE2 departed San Juan about 5:30pm, and sailed north towards New York.
We had one more full day at sea before arrival.
Dinner was, as always, an event to be savored. Afterwards the New Years parties began, in all the ship's lounges. The ship's bell was brought into the Grand Lounge for the traditional ringing in of the New Year by the youngest member of the ship's crew. In this case an eighteen year-old young lady from one of the shops. The bell is rung sixteen times to signal the new year, eight bells for the out-going years and eight bells for the incoming year. Eight bells signals midnight and the end of a ship's watch.
After a couple of hours more of champagne and partying, I went down to my cabin to change out of my tuxedo. When I got down to my boxer shorts, my cabin went dark. At first I thought that my I had accidently hit my light switch. But then I quickly realized the quiet. Complete, total quiet. Stillness all over. With an outside cabin all the way forward, I had become accustomed to the sound of the sea rushing past as QE2 sailed on. Nothing now. I opened my cabin door and peered out. Darkness. Everywhere. Then I said to myself "well I'll be damned, we've broken down!"
Out in the passageway the emergency strip of lighting was on, but that was all. I kept my cabin door open, to let the dim emergency lighting illuminate what it could of my cabin. I gropped around in the near dark, trying to get dressed as fast as I could. I wanted to get back up top, I didn't want to miss anything! Afterall, how often is one stranded at sea on the world's most celebrated ocean liner?
I began to miss the airconditioning. The cabin had quickly become stuffy. We were still in the Caribbean after all.
As I made my way down the passagway towards the stairs, the eeriness of it all overwhelmed me. Gone was any motion or sound to the ship. There were people coming out into the passageways, curious to what had happened. Most were simply curious. A few were concerned, a few were visibly upset. One gentleman was loudly berating his poor cabin steward, demanding to know exactly what had happened and declaring that the whole situation was unacceptable. Jerk. How could his steward possibly know? The steward politely told him that as soon as he could find out, he would let the gentleman know.
By this time many people in their cabins had gone to bed, so most were in their bed-clothes. Funny, I thought, to see people out in public on the ship in thier pajamas and robes. More strange than funny. Wierd.
I made my way put the stairs towards the lounges. Empty, quiet, dark. The refuse of the night's celebrations still littered througout. I stood staring into the Queen's Room. Utterly deserted. Still, and dark. I knew that there was still a lound and crazy party going on in the Yacht Club, where I left some friends just a few moments before. I passed a group of elderly ladies, in their robes, and in their life jackets. I felt for the frightened poor souls. I told them that I was certain that we were in no danger, but that did not make them feel any better. Where were they going, to their boat stations?
Finally I came to the Yacht Club, the ship's late-night club. There were still a few hundred hearty partiers, enjoying the sudden excitement. There were no lights, no music, no drinks other than water being poured. Without electricity the bar staff could not tally the drinks in the dark. They poured water, and plenty of it.
The large room was quite hot and stuffy. Just aft of the club is a large open deck where many people moved the party to. The night was beautiful. The stars were out, and there was a cool breeze. This is so strange, I thought, as we stood there, still enjoying ourselves in spite of what might be going on up on the bridge and down below. Only emergency lights and the stars and moon illuminated the deck. We could hear very clearly the ocean swells lapping against the hull of the still ship.
We were dead in the water. Going nowhere, powerless.
Nature was calling. I made my way to the gents room. There was no emergency lighting in the restrooms. Pitch black. Not necessary, I guess, as who would want the toilet in an emergency? This night, plenty of us! Someone lit a match, it was the Yacht Club's DJ. I was enough to see to do what needed doing. Without power, meant without plumbing. No water, no flushing. Yuck. I got out of there. The DJ continued to light matches. I don't know about the ladies' room.
More people were in the passageways and stairwells, from out of their dark, hot cabins. There was a since of not only excitement, but apprehension and nervousness. Now for the first time ever on any cruise I noticed uniformed security very visibly policing the ship. There was no trouble for them to quell, they were there "Just in case". But I was surprised at how many, other officers as well. One woman had a small flashlight with her. I complemented her on her foresight, and made a mental note never to cruise again without one. I saw a few more people in life jackets.
One could only imagine the tense situation up on the bridge. A ship, any vessel, drifting powerless at sea is not safe. A ship without power cannot be steered, cannot be controlled. I felt for the captain and his officers.
Here we were, in the dark, drifting.
They must be going nuts down in the engine room, I thought.
I went back out on deck to join my friends. A lot were clearly enjoying the unusual situation. I must admit I was too, knowing how rare this was. And believing there was no immediate danger, as long as it didn't last too long.
Someone joked that the QM2 is coming, to throw us an extension cord.
Someone else reminded us that we were in the Bermuda Triangle. Wow!
How true! This great ocean liner, drifting powerless at night in the Bermuda Triangle! Now this was really something to tell my friends at home.
The captain came on the emergency P.A. system, to assure us that the problem was being worked on and that we should be under way not long from now.
It was now about 3:am. The party crowd was not giving up, and the deck chairs were filling up, many people in pajamas looking for a cool place to sleep.
There was a vibration under our feet, and then some deck lights came on.
The ship was still motionless, and we could still hear the swells against the hull. Looking over the rail, down onto the sea, not a single porthole or window lit up, the hull as dark as can be, and the sound of the sea, gave me a chill.
Some time went by, and the captain said the problem had been isolated. A high voltage amp had over heated, as a safety measure to avoid fire, all power automatically shut down. We appreciated the captain keeping us informed. He was earning his pay that night.
At about 4:am there was another vibration, a rumble, and then we could see a small wake. All the lights came on. We were underway, slowly.
Another thirty minutes or so and it seemed we were back to normal speed.
The next day, surprisingly, hardly anyone spoke about it. Must be because this was the last day of a long cruise. People are tired.

And that is my True-Life Sea Story.
The End.

kj

Rex · 07-05-2005, 09:58 AM

How exciting, yet scary is that. That is enough to make anyone's blood flow very quickly.

From tuxedos to lingerie..... haha

isujim · 07-05-2005, 10:03 AM

Very interesting.....thanks for sharing this. I'm glad the captain kept the passengers informed..........good communication at times like this is a must!!