Two Wash Overboard; Rescued By A Third

When the Fortuna II miraculously righted herself, all that was left on deck was Rich Voorhees, the youngest and most recent addition to the crew. Everything and everybody else had gone overboard in the split second it took a freak wave to break and stand the 50-foot longline fishing vessel on its port beam more than 100 miles at sea on Friday.

At the Deep Water Seafood docks in Montauk on Monday the three-man crew of the Fortuna gathered again on deck before packing out the catch from their rudely interrupted trip. Capt. Richard Wright and Frank Guire, a deckhand, unabashedly indulged in hero worship before the third member of their crew, Mr. Voorhees, the hero himself.

Winter Weather

They had already thanked him from the bottom of their hearts many times, and over a few drinks - "sea breezes," said the captain with a look and smile that communicated the appropriateness of the vodka and cranberry mixture. The look also said that the word "breeze" didn't do justice to what the Fortuna was out in on Friday.

The boat is based in Northport but has fished out of Montauk for several years during tuna and swordfish season. Captain Wright has been in the habit of taking her south when the weather turns cold and when the migratory species he fishes for head south too. It's around this time of year that the weather can fool.

The Fortuna is not large for offshore fishing when the winter storms arrive. And they have arrived: Two weeks before, she was caught offshore in 70-knot winds that built seas large enough to break six of the boat's wooden ribs.

Last week's trip was the first after the boat underwent repairs at the Montauk Marine Basin. The National Weather Service had called for the storm, but Captain Wright thought the severest weather would be inshore of where they would be fishing in Atlantis Canyon.

Pulling In Line

The boat had left Montauk the previous Monday, Nov. 10. Early Friday morning, the crew was retrieving a section of 20-mile-long line which was buoyed at intervals with round plastic balls called dobs. They were midway through the trawl.

Captain Wright and Mr. Guire were at the hydraulic hauler that pulls gear and fish back to the boat. Mr. Voorhees was aft of them, rebaiting the hooks and attaching the dobs so the line could be set back into the sea to fish again. The first two men were on the port side of the boat and facing away from it. Mr. Voorhees was at the stern.

"We were heading down sea," Mr. Voorhees said, but angled slightly so the waves were passing diagonally under the boat, lifting the aft-starboard quarter first.

"Hold On!"

The ocean was white with breaking waves and spray - a force nine day, according to the Beaufort Scale of marine weather conditions.

"We were about halfway up a wave when the top broke. That's what pushed us over. I shouted, 'Hold on,' Mr. Voorhees said.

Neither crewman heard him. "I'm part deaf anyway, and I had the hood of my oilers up," said the captain. "I fully expected to see the boat overturned when I came to the surface.

"The green stick was in the water," he said, referring to the long pole used by boats under way for rigging trolling gear. It stands perpendicular to the deck of an upright boat, but was lying flat in the water before the Fortuna rallied. Stacks of boxes with their supply of hooks and the short "snoods" or leaders that attach them to the longline went overboard, as did all the butcher knives, gaffs, gloves, and paraphernalia that make up the deck of a fishing boat.

Mr. Guire was also in the water, caught up in one of the hook boxes and struggling to cut himself free. Both he and the captain were wearing layers of winter gear and heavy boots. "After the boat righted," Mr. Voorhees said, "I ran to the wheel and put it into reverse and let the boat drift down on Richard. He was 15 yards away. I lifted him in." The boat has a low freeboard with a gap in the bulkhead through which fish are hauled aboard. This time it received the captain.

But Mr. Guire, the deckhand, was 25 yards away and still drifting. Mr. Voorhees said that when the wave hit he was in the process of attaching a dob to the line, but let go to hang on to the three-foot-long, stainless steel rod with an eye on top that guides the longline when it pays off the stern.

Dropped The Dob

It was this handhold that probably saved Mr. Voorhees's life. It was the dob he dropped that probably saved the life of his fellow deckhand. Mr. Guire was able to grab it and stay afloat.

"It was like the Lord was pushing it right toward him," said Mr. Voorhees. "Without question it makes you believe - yes," he added. "I threw him a line, but he was so weak he couldn't grab it."

Neither could he fend off the Fortuna when she got within reach. He was being dragged under the boat. "I was trying to stay afloat with my boots on," said Mr. Guire. I was looking up at Rich from under water. I said, 'Don't let me go, please don't let me go.' "

Mr. Voorhees was able to pull his fellow crewman aboard. "He knew just what to do," Mr. Guire said on Monday. "If it hadn't been for his strength, I wouldn't have . . ." he said, unable to finish the sentence he didn't need to.

"There was nobody left on board but him," Mr. Guire repeated, as though awestruck at the thought that everyone might have gone over. The engine had been in gear.

"I lay on the deck for an hour puking water," he said. After recovering, he said, he joined the others in bringing in the rest of Fortuna's gear which had been set earlier. It took 13 hours. Mr. Guire said he worked with two dobs tied to him.

No More

"That ended my fishing career," he said on Monday with a wan smile. He said he planned to go back to making a living as a steel worker. "I did that for 15 years, worked on the convention center, and four high rises. If you go, at least it's fast," he reasoned. He'd been with the Fortuna off and on for two years. It was his rescuer's third trip offshore.

Captain Wright said that as soon as the Fortuna II off-loaded its albacore tuna and swordfish, he would prepare to head south.

The three fishermen stood on the deck that had been at right angles to the sea far from shore less than two days before. They laughed nervously. They talked about time, about how it all had happened so fast. The entire drama, from near broach to Mr. Guire's rescue, lasted no more than 10 minutes, they said.

"At least it had a happy ending," said the captain. All nodded in agreement, but written on their faces, between the smiles, was the knowledge that the story might never have been told.