Sink week: part 3

1:00 pm
This was the predicted sinking time of the SS United States. But she was still afloat, and our film crew was still on board. I scanned the horizon - we were surrounded by hundreds of boats. Sailboats, power boats, small boats, big boats, all in a circle around the 1-mile security perimeter.

1:30 pm
I heard loud bangs coming from inside the ship. Each bang was identical in volume and pitch, and the sounds were a few seconds apart - like a person using a hammer to open something. 

2:00 pm
The VHF radio crackled. “Fire Department boat, SS United States is trying to reach you. Turn to channel 65.”
 
VHF radio channels are all open, so there is no such thing as private communication at sea. Channel 16 is used for hailing, but then conversation partners usually switch to another channel to keep 16 clear. Any curious soul could also change to the same channel and listen in. I watched Chuck punch up the channel button on his radio to 65, and I was glad I didn’t have to ask him to do it. 
 
“Fire Department, do you have a fire hose on board?” crackled the radio. 
“Yes, of course,” came the response. 
“Yeah, they’re having some trouble with the hoses,” said the anonymous voice on the radio. “Can you thread your hose through a port hole on the stern to assist?”
 
Just then, I noticed a gloved hand sticking out from a port hole on the stern of SS United States. The diameter of the port hole matched the width of the person’s wrist, so only their hand was visible. They rotated their wrist and flicked their fingers to attract attention. It was like Thing from The Addams Family asking for the fire hose. 
 
The Fire Department boat approached slowly and draped the end of a thick red hose over a boat hook on a long pole. A firefighter perched on the end of the boat and lifted the end of the hose using the pole. The hand grabbed it. The red hose was pulled inside the ship. The Fire Department held position and started their pumps. 
  
3:00 pm
The radio crackled. “Is this thing ever going to sink?” someone asked.
“Should have used TNT” a different voice complained.
“Sink that thing!” the high-pitched voice of a child called out.
“US Coast Guard reminding all mariners that channel 16 is for emergencies and hailing only” came the voice of reason. 

4:00 pm 

On Captain Chuck's boat with my IMAX friends. Photo by
Dave Clark.

We picked up our cameramen, Duncan and Matt, from the ship. They had been without food, water, bathroom, or shade for 6 hours. As soon as they stepped back onto Chuck’s boat, they launched a drone. The guys were completely mission-focused and running on pure adrenaline. Sinking day was their one shot to get good footage, so I understood. In their place, I would have done the same.

 
4:30 pm 
I convinced Matt and Duncan to eat something. SS United States drafted 24 feet. The sun began sinking in the western sky. 
 
6:00 pm 
All personnel were cleared from the ship. All valves were open. Draft increased steadily at 2 feet per hour. Even from our relatively close vantage point, it was difficult to visually detect any change in the ship. From a mile away, it must have looked like nothing at all was happening. The crowd of boats on the perimeter began to thin as people gave up and went home. 
 
7:00 pm 
The sky was pitch black. Every boat within the 1-mile secure area shined their spotlight on the ship. SS United States was so narrow and so empty that we could see the lights from boats on the other side shining through the open bulkhead doors. The blue flashes of police boats created an eery glow on the ship. Dave suggested we place bets on the sinking time, and Chuck wagered 11:29 pm. I did not want to wait that long. My bet was 10:00 pm. We ate the last of our provisions and settled in to wait for a few more hours.