We were all looking forward to the port visit in Australia which was to be kicked off with a battle group party sponsored by the U.S. Embassy. Several days before we arrived, our Skipper, Rosey, had a great idea for the wardroom to sail up the Swan River to Perth from Big E's anchorage off of Fremantle. He wanted to hire a private launch for transport directly from the carrier to the party. In his typical democratic fashion, Rosey had the wardroom vote on his proposal. Not everyone was enthusiastic (40 opposed to 3 in favor), so Rosey cast his vote in favor and the motion carried. The private launch was arranged for and we anxiously awaited our arrival in Australia.
The big day finally came. The weather was terrible and the seas were very rough. The Lizard Chiefs/Officers were at the front of the liberty line in service dress blues waiting as the skipper was trying to convince the OOD to allow our private launch to come alongside. It was a losing battle. The OOD wasn't willing to risk any sort of incident with a commercial vessel. Fortunately the OOD did allow the Navy-contracted liberty boats to come alongside. As we were at the front, we boarded the first (and only) liberty boat to run for at least five hours.
After a rough ride we tied up to the pier in Fremantle at 1530 local time. We hurriedly debarked, glad to be ashore. As we began to head towards the buses to the battle group party, Rosey called everyone back and directed us to board the private boat for the trip up the Swan River. With misgivings we followed our leader and dutifully filed aboard.
The boat was a small, deep-sea fishing craft/party cruiser. We weren't too excited about getting back on a boat after having just gotten ashore, but most of the Lizards consoled themselves with the huge crates of beer and liquor stocked onboard.
Settling in, we tried to enjoy the run up the river; shooting pictures, taking in the sights, noticing the tide running out....the tide running out!?! It didn't
seem too important at the time. As we approached Perth we neared a large sweeping bend in the river. The fishing boat skipper (not to be confused with Rosey) began
to cut across the turn.
Scrape. What was that?
Bump. Hmmmm.
It felt like the hull was dragging. The skipper applied more power and we kept going. As the bumps and scrapes continued, the skipper
kept adding power. It didn't seem quite right. Finally it came.......the BIG jolt.
Everyone tumbled forward and there we were high and dry. Those among our forthy-some officers and twenty-some chiefs who had imbibed the most of the beverages sprang to action, running to the gunnels to see what was wrong. Several decided they needed to run back and forth to rock the boat loose. Two of the aviators (one was Cobweb) took command of the radio transmitter and began calling for help. Others decided they needed to lean way over the side, reason unknown, and lost their covers. The boat's skipper decided the solution was to look for deeper water by throwing one of his mates overboard. His first mate was chucked over the side into the cold, chest-deep water and began feeling for depth with his feet. Pandemonium reigned. And the sky began to rain too. The cold rain water had a calming effect.
As the sun began to set, the huddled mass of drenched sailors began to get restless once again. Several JO's (two were Tuck and P-ski) shed their blues and changed into heavy black sweaters and watch caps. They had found a life raft and were preparing to head for shore like a group of SEALS. Rosey knew he had to take charge. He told everyone to stand fast and called the skipper of the vessel to account.
Just then a news helicopter flew over and began to hover above us. We were saved. After a few minutes we saw emergency lights flashing on the shore. We were saved or so we thought. Well, not so fast. The helicopter reported the story and then flew away. The lights stopped flashing, and it started to rain again.
Rosey began to relay the bad news to us. The vessel we were on was a deep-sea fishing boat. The crew had never ventured inland up the Swan River before. From viewing the "Long John Silvers" place mat that the crew was using for navigation, we determined that the boat was aground on the Pelican Shoals. The radio transmitter didn't work, so none of our calls for help had been heard. Gloom. Somebody yelled out a time check; it was now 2015. The battle group party had begun and we were stuck on the Pelican Shoals.
The JO's were considering mutiny at this point. They still had the life raft. At least some of them could make it to the party.
"Ahoy there!" We strained our ears.
"Ahoy there!" We saw a small scull appear from the darkness ahead of us.
"Ahoy! You'd better be careful, the water's pretty shallow out here."
"Thanks, we've found that out for ourselves," one of my squadron mates replied.
A small four-man racing scull came alongside and began to confer with the boat's skipper. As they were preparing to go for help, a spotlight pierced the darkness off of our stern. Some sort of craft was moving slowly towards us, picking its way carefully through the shallows. At about thirty yards it stopped. There just wasn't enough water.
The scull took off for the other boat. Fifteen minutes later they returned. The other boat was a utility craft from the South of Perth Yacht Club. It could carry about thirty of us at a time back to the club. The scull began to ferry us from the stranded boat to the utility boat three men at a time. By 2130, the utility boat had a full load and we began to head to the yacht club. At 2200 we were welcomed ashore and the boat returned for its second load.
Our Australian hosts were gracious. They immediately took us in and included us in their festivities. The evening quickly turned into a U.S. Navy appreciation gala. After ribbing us for being deep-water sailors stranded on a river, they began to apologize for the incompetence of their fellow countryman who had stranded us. Then they thanked us for everything from American aid during WWII to the then recent bombing of Libya. (We had just returned to the Pacific after two months on station at Qadafi's "Line of Death" after the 1986 bombing of Tripoli.) Another hot topic of conversation was the America's Cup which was in the possession of the Royal Perth Yacht Club.
By midnight all the Lizards were safely ashore and having a great time. No one gave a second thought to the battle group party. We learned
a valuable lesson from all of this. When you get off the boat for liberty, don't get back on another till its time to leave!