Cock-ups while filming a boat fire in the Solent

Some years ago, the film unit I belonged to was involved in the making of a documentary about Emergency Rescue Equipment at sea. “This will be adventurous,” I said, with a feeling of excitement. A friend who owned a yacht down at Hamble said he would be pleased to help us. A kind of script was quickly created as a guide. We didn’t want any cock ups. So we set off one fine Sunday with equipment lent to us from a Naval Air Station, and headed for the River Hamble to meet our friends and boarded their yacht. We had already notified the Coast Guard, so we set sail down the river. “This is the perfect way to spend a day,” someone said. It was tranquil, with just enough breeze for gentle sailing, though out in The Solent, it was a bit choppy. We kept to the widest part between the Isle of Wight and the mainland, hoping not to get any other ships in the frame.

The idea was to fake a yacht on fire. So, with some smoke flares ready on board the yacht, I rowed out in the dingy a little distance with my 16 mm turreted Bolex film camera. This I found, was not as easy as I thought, for I had to ship the oars and struggle with the camera, while trying to keep the shot steady as the dingy was bobbing about. The three girls on board were told to get out of sight and hide in the forward cabin while the skipper, who was holding on to the tiller, crouched in the well. Maintaining the pretence that there was only one man on board; George, the actor who was in the cabin with the boat on fire.

I shouted “action!” George, then lit the smoke flares. He had to appear to rush out of the cabin, throw the inflatable overboard, then climb into it. Catastrophe! I was ready and with my camera running, trying at the same time to steady the dingy, the yacht was suddenly enveloped in thick smoke. George came rushing out from the cabin, threw the inflatable overboard and jumped in. Oh shucks! It didn’t properly inflate, there was a loud spurting sound and silvery balloons bulged up on either side of poor George like mad water wings; only his head was out of the water.

At the same time, the three girls clambered out from the forward hatch with black smoke billowing out behind them. They were almost asphyxiated. At the same time, I was trying to stop the dingy from drifting away while attempting to get some kind of usable footage. But the wind got up, there were some dark clouds on the horizon and it was getting out of hand. Then we spotted a large boat heading straight for us, obviously bent on a rescue mission. “Are you in trouble!” shouted ‘the good Mariner.’ “NO!” shouted our skipper, “thank-you! “, and waved him away. There was much laughter afterwards.

Mission abandoned; we thought perhaps we would use a pond next time! Mind you, the footage made a good comedy short.
 
 

Eight of us, a group of friends, decided to spend a long weekend in a rented cottage on the Norfolk Broads. “You -will, I hope, be making a film and bringing a still camera, record player and tape recorder?”, one asked. “Yes, of course”, I replied, “It will be a pleasure!”. This was said almost without thinking, but somehow all my equipment got. loaded into one of the other cars, as mine was fully loaded with people.

Off we went, without a care in the world. However, the car with my equipment got lost. There was no sign of them when we parked at Thurne, so we collected the dinghy we’d hired and, making two journeys, ferried our baggage up the creek and across the wide river to the isolated cottage.

Two of the group went back to meet the others, but I became increasingly worried as time went by. There was no sign of them after an hour had passed. Then it began to get dark.

As night fell we could hear the sound of voices across the river, together with the faint glimmer of light from a torch and the splashing of oars. Then, as they came into sight out of a slight mist, I saw that they were loaded to the “Gunwales.” Someone had decided to bring everyone in one trip!

How they didn’t sink, I’ll never know. There was only about an inch of freeboard and my precious equipment was piled up precariously between the rowers. In an instant, I pictured the fate of my l6mm Bolex etc on the river bed. I wasn’t worried about the people.

WELL, AFTER ALL, THEY COULD SWIM! P.S. They (and my equipment) made it!