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Buffeted about on towering waves - Letter from the Algarve by Frances Ruddick
• 07 Jun 2007 •
 THE Algarve is a mere three hours from the UK by plane, but I have not forgotten the arduous journey we had by road and ferry when we moved here six years ago.
The experience was all the more traumatic since during the ferry crossing from Portsmouth to Bilbao, a force eight gale blew up in the Bay of Biscay. We were buffeted about on towering waves and thrown from side to side. The ship creaked and groaned so that what should have been a 24-hour voyage took us almost 30.
Seen from an aeroplane window, six miles high, the Bay of Biscay looks like a millpond but believe me, it can be tortuous and frightening. However, compared to the circumstances encountered by some people, we were let off lightly.
Imagine, instead of a 26,000-thousand ton ferry, being on a yacht in a gale. The Bay of Biscay’s most tragic victims must surely be Frenchwoman, Louise Longo, her husband Bernard and their five-year-old daughter, Gaella.
Six days into their voyage from Rochefort, France, their yacht was lashed by freak waves. Fearing they would capsize, Louise’s husband made a rash decision to abandon ship and take to the life raft. If properly equipped it would have contained matches, flares and other essential items. Louise had no way of knowing that it didn’t and since her husband was an experienced yachtsman, she agreed to follow his plan.
The yacht had already been carried off into the distance when she noticed that the life raft had sprung a leak, and there was only a bottle of water and a bottle of rum on board. What might a wife say to her husband under those circumstances? You can be certain it wouldn’t be pleasant.
As the days passed their situation became increasingly desperate, constantly bailing out the bottom of the life raft and eventually drinking seawater to keep them hydrated. Louise’s husband was the first to succumb, becoming delirious and so weakened by the physical exertions, he collapsed and died.
For three days Louise kept his corpse on board but for reasons of hygiene, finally she made the decision to slip him into the sea.
This had to be explained to Gaella who by now was seriously ill.
Two more days elapsed, bringing the pair closer to death, when they were spotted by a Russian freighter ploughing its way across the Bay of Biscay. The sea continued to be turbulent so that despite a rescue attempt that lasted for six hours, the life raft could not be reached.
The captain of the freighter was obliged to ask for assistance from a helicopter, although he was unable to convey his intentions to Louise who by now was nursing her daughter’s dying body.
As Gaella drew a final breath, Louise was brought to the brink of suicide. She slid the little girl’s corpse into the waves and was about to follow it in when she heard the rumble of helicopter blades off in the distance.
She was going to be saved but it was five days too late for her husband and moments too late for Gaella.
Perhaps the cruellest twist of fate happened the following day when the yacht was found undamaged and was towed back to port.
In her accounts to doctors and the police, Louise emphasised that it had been her husband’s idea to take to the life raft. By this stage she was apportioning blame and her vitriol about her husband came across to such an extent that she was suspected of his murder.
Without a body to prove how he had died, scurrilous speculation started to circulate in the French press.
After the ordeal she had suffered at sea, Louise was subjected to further mistreatment by the media.
The events happened in 1994.
Five-year-old Gaella would have come of age this year. Give her a thought the next time you cross the Bay of Biscay and if you happen to be a sailor, make sure your life raft is properly equipped.
Like Louise, I feel ill-disposed towards her husband, despite the fact he lost his life. |  Return to Top
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