Wight. Saturday 18 February 1995. Northwesterly backing southwesterly 6 or 7, increasing gale 8 for a time. Showers then rain. Good becoming moderate or poor, by Mark Power/Magnum Photos
In 1976, named after a millionaire industrialist who made his money manufacturing metal engine bearings, the 54ft Arun lifeboat Tony Vandervell came into service at Weymouth station. I was four years old. A year later, Second Coxswain Victor James Pitman was awarded Silver Medal for Gallantry in recognition of his courage, determination and seamanship when the lifeboat under his command saved the yacht Latifa and her crew of eight which was in difficulties one and a half miles south of the East Shambles buoy in a west-south-westerly hurricane and turbulent seas.
As my youth developed, my interest in the heroics of the Weymouth lifeboat crew and volunteers increased. Buried under the blankets, on winter evenings I’d tune the radio to BBC Radio 4 for the shipping forecast. When listing the 31 sea areas began my anticipation grew – Viking, North Utsire, South Utsire, Forties, Cromarty... until it progressed down the east coast and along the south coast to my area – Thames, Wight, Portland. As the perfect voice for radio drifted on to Plymouth, Biscay, Trafalgar, I’d assess the information and predict if a storm was brewing.
Faraway stare
When the first maroon exploded 100ft into the night sky to summon crew I’d listen for the second boom and imagine the crew tumbling from their beds and onto the fast afloat boat with her twin Caterpillar diesel engines and maximum speed of 18 knots. My dad had once introduced me to one of the lifeboat volunteers. Robert ‘Bobbie’ Gray was everything you’d expect from a sea-faring hero, rugged, taciturn with a faraway stare. Bobbie would go on to be one of the longest-serving members of Weymouth’s lifeboat. He notably served on the night of the infamous hurricane on 15 October 1987 when the lifeboat launched to the aid of a catamaran stranded 18 mi
