A little over two years ago we remembered, and gave thanks for, the saving of 42 men from the disabled Canadian frigate CHEBOGUE, driven ashore at Port Talbot in October 1944. On that occasion Coxswain William Gammon had led a largely veteran crew in a gallant rescue, carried out in storm conditions, for which he was awarded the Gold Medal of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution.

In concluding an article in this magazine I wrote "We should not forget that when a lifeboat crew venture out in such extreme conditions there is often a fine line between triumph and tragedy".

So now we gather to remember the sacrifice of William Gammon and Gilbert Davies, the lifeboat mechanic, and a new young crew who gave their lives on 23 April 1947 in a gallant attempt to save the 39 men of the steamship SAMTAMPA wrecked across the bay at Sker Point near Porthcawl.

A strong south westerly wind increased in force during the day and by the afternoon a fresh gale was blowing in the channel. The 7,000 ton former Liberty ship was bound, in ballast, from Middlesbrough to Newport for survey prior to sale. Exactly what happened aboard we do not know. Many believed that she suffered engine failure, though there was no evidence to support this view. It is more likely that, being in ballast, she rode high in the water and became unmanageable due to the force of the wind on her hull. The ship simply would not answer the helm.

The master of the SAMTAMPA, New Zealander Capt. Neale Sherwell, ordered the radio officer to make a distress call and this was received by the coastal radio station at Burnham, Somerset. The message was relayed to Mumbles Coastguard at the Tutt who telephoned Herman J. Kluge, Honorary Secretary of the lifeboat station at 5.48 p.m. The message identified the ship and simply stated "Rapidly drifting towards Nash Shoal".

The "Hon. Sec." telephoned lifeboat cottage and mechanic Gilbert Davies fired the maroons straight away. Most of the crew members had just got home from work and the lifeboat EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES was launched at 6.12. At the slipway the wind was SW force 6 to 8, but across the bay it was blowing force 8 to storm 10. Eight minutes after the boat had left, the coastguard received two more messages from the ship. They were "Have both hooks down and hope to keep off shoal, but doubtful timed at 3.56 (5.56 when the two hours of daylight saving time are considered) and "Samtampa position 51 19 N, 3 45 W bearing 290 degrees 2% miles from Porthcawl Light" timed at 6.04 p.m.

From 6.30 to 6.45 the coastguard attempted to communicate this information to the lifeboat by aldis lamp but, as there was no signalman aboard, Coxswain Gammon put back and closed the slipway. The information was shouted to him and he turned the lifeboat seawards once more at about 7.10 The lifeboat was lost to view soon after as she made her way across the bay.

The final message from the ship was "To all stations. Starboard anchors carried away. Now drifting ashore. Stand by." The Samtampa struck Sker rocks soon after 7 p.m. and began to break up within a very short time. The Porthcawl Life-Saving Apparatus crew fired numerous rockets towards the ship but they all fell short. The district officer of the coastguard described one as "Seeming to stand still in the air before being blown back". The Samtampa broke into three within an hour of going aground, and her lighter bow and stern sections were carried up onto the rock shelf of the Sker - her mid section, where all her crew were believed to be sheltering, remained in deeper water.

Herman Kluge closed his Return of Service report of the incident with the words: "Nothing further was seen or heard of the boat until early morning when she was seen overturned near the wrecked Samtampa".

Capt Sherwell and all 38 hands of the ship had drowned in the darkness of night. So too had Coxswain Gammon and all seven of his men. Most of the Samtampa's crew were from the north east of England and a number of communities were badly hit.

The funerals took place on the afternoon of 29 April. After services at All Saints and Our Lady Star of the Sea the cortege made its way to Oystermouth Cemetery in torrential rain. Crowds of people lined Mumbles and Newton roads to pay their respect. The men were laid to rest in a group of graves at the top of the cemetery overlooking the village they loved and the sea against which they had battled.

A small boy, not then three years old, was puzzled when his father, who had been a member of the church choir since a lad, arrived home later that afternoon with Rev David Wilkinson, curate of All Saints. The two were in their cassocks but soaked to the skin and dripped pools of water round their feet. After a glass of grannie's rhubarb wine, the curate made his way home to Norton. It was another ten years before the child understood the significance.

Carl Smith