57 years on - Longhope duo reach the same age as their grandfathers lost at sea

The disaster deeply affected the island, and the loss of the eight men was felt in every part of the community. Yet despite the heartache, there was never any real question about whether Longhope would have a lifeboat again. The lifeboat had always been part of island life, and many felt that not bringing it back would mean the sacrifice of those men had been for nothing. In the years that followed, the station returned to service with a new generation of volunteers stepping forward to continue the lifesaving work of the RNLI. Among them were men whose own families were closely connected to the events of that night. Kevin, grandson of Dan Kirkpatrick, would go on to serve as coxswain for many years before retiring, when he was relieved in the role by Scott Johnston, the grandson of Jimmy Johnston.

For both Kevin and Scott, their families are deeply connected to the events of that night. Scott lost his grandfather, his great-uncle, also the father of Karen Kirkpatrick, Kevin’s wife, and his great-grandfather. Kevin also suffered multiple losses, losing his father, his uncle and his grandfather. The tragedy touched many families on the island, and for them the connection is both personal and lasting. This year, Kevin is 59 and Scott 34, the same ages their grandfathers were when they launched that night.

Today Scott leads the volunteer crew at Longhope Lifeboat Station and says the role is both a privilege and a responsibility: ‘It is a great honour to do it and be part of the history. It’s something so different. I am the only full-time coxswain in Orkney, so it is a niche thing. It’s not just a job it’s a way of life.’

The lifeboat remains central to the life of the island. ‘It means a great deal. We have a very strong crew of 26 out of an island of 450. And that’s just the volunteer crew, and then you add in the guild and shoreside volunteers’.

To understand why the lifeboat holds such a place in the life of the island, we must return to the night that shaped Longhope forever.

March 1969 had seen a long spell of what Orcadians would describe as ‘coorse’ weather. For days, the wind had blown hard around the islands, driving heavy seas through the Pentland Firth and across the shores of Hoy and South Ronaldsay. For the volunteer crew at Longhope, weather like this often meant only one thing, sooner or later the lifeboat would be needed.

So, when the request came, on the evening of Monday 17 March 1969, to launch to the aid of the Liberian steamship Irene, which was short of fuel and being blown towards the rocks of South Ronaldsay, the crew of RNLB T.G.B. began gathering quickly at the shed to prepare for sea.

Coxswain Dan Kirkpatrick called out his crew. They were all Brims men, local to the shed, used to the sea, and to working together. Down at the boathouse the shore crew, Angus Heddle and Geordie Taylor, were already preparing for the launch while other members of the shore and lifeboat crew arrived as word spread that the lifeboat was required.

Inside the shed the men pulled on their oilskins and fastened their lifejackets as the wind howled outside. A south-easterly gale was blowing directly against the shed doors and waves were already forcing water into the boathouse. As the crew dressed it became clear they were one man short. Moments later Jimmy Swanson arrived. Jimmy was second mechanic on the local ferry, and his crossing had been delayed by the harsh weather in Scapa Flow. With Jimmy now present, the crew was complete.

The men boarded the lifeboat and waited for the moment to launch. Dan sent a man down to the doors to watch for a break in the sea. As the moment approached Dan leaned over the side of the TGB and called down to the men on shore, ‘I'll take another hand, who'll come with me?’ Young Eric (Ericie) McFadyen answered, ‘I'll come with you Dan’. As Ericie climbed aboard, Dan handed him his own lifejacket. With that, the crew of eight men were ready to face the sea.

At 8pm the lifeboat slipped from the shed into a roaring sea and turned to starboard into the tide as she made her way out towards the Pentland Firth. As the lifeboat headed east, radio contact was maintained with the station. From the shore, volunteer Sodger Bob remained at the radio, responding to requests for the lifeboat’s position as she battled through the heavy seas. Despite the conditions, reports suggested she was making steady progress. Coastguard stations and lighthouse keepers along the coast also kept watch, one report noting ‘Lifeboat spotted East bound making good progress.’ But, at around 9.30pm radio contact with the lifeboat was lost. Calls were made but there was no reply.

As the hours passed without word, concern began to grow. The Kirkwall lifeboat was directed to search for the Longhope boat and by midnight a full-scale search was underway, with lifeboats from Wick, Thurso, Stromness, Kirkwall and Stronsay joining the effort across the Pentland Firth.

For John Budge, a native of Hoy, who was 18 at the time, and has himself over 50 years of service with the RNLI, the memories of that night remain vivid: ‘I remember like it was yesterday. I was rehearsing for the youth club concert that was held every year. Ericie McFadyen should have been there, but he never arrived. Billy, my older brother, was up at Brims when the maroons went up. Ericie and Billy went straight to the shed. Dan asked if Eric wanted to come with us and told Billy, ‘You’ll get on the next time’.’

When John returned home that night, it was after 11pm. His mother was listening to the shortwave radio, something many families on the island did when the lifeboat was out. John remembers the worry in his mother’s voice as she told him: ‘They’re calling and calling the lifeboat and not getting a reply.’ John remembers sitting up with his parents as the voices of the coastguard came through the radio, ‘I never went to bed that night. We stayed up all night.’

By the following morning it was becoming clear that something had gone terribly wrong. Islanders were asked to assist with the search: ‘The coastguard called us out to do a search. Me and Billy searched across from Cantick to Brims. I can remember when we were below, near to the Bu, we saw something coming down on the tide. We feared it was a lifejacket, but it was a rubber bale. But it was just one of them moments.’

They continued searching throughout the day until, later that evening, the devastating news finally came: ‘About 9 or 10pm we got the word through via the Scottish news. The lifeboat had been righted in Scrabster and seven bodies recovered and no life. All perished in the tragedy. It was terrible. I knew every one of them. I had grown up with them. Ericie was nearest to my age. It was awful.’

In the days that followed the small island community struggled to come to terms with what had happened. For many islanders, the loss was almost impossible to comprehend. ‘Growing up, it seemed as if the lifeboat and the men were indestructible because they had done and seen so much. And then they were all taken away from us. There was a sense of numbness. Everybody means everything to you on the island. The community was numb. There was so much grief you could only think about the ones closest to you. It was just too much. The former minister, Mr Charlie Able, returned to the island to help support the community. He had married and baptised most of the bairns on the island and he came back and stayed throughout. He was marvellous, calm and reassuring. He was such a strength as was Jackie Groat, the Honorary Secretary.’

John remembers Kevin’s grandfather, Dan Kirkpatrick, the coxswain of the lifeboat that night: ‘Dan was a very quiet and thoughtful man, much like Kevin. He was a big, tall man, about 6ft 2’’. He worked at Lyness for the MOD and at that time the Lyness naval base had a harbour launch which would run ropes for tankers or take people across if someone needed to go to hospital.’

In a strange twist of fate, John recalls that even the harbour launch did not escape the storm that night, ‘Ironically that same night, the harbour launch broke its moorings and came ashore and was wrecked.’

For Scott, the disaster has never simply been a story from the past. Growing up on the island, it was something that was spoken about often within the family. ‘We always spoke about it in the house. I always was told that grandad was lost in the lifeboat. Growing up I pictured an old man with a walking stick. Only now have I realised how young he was. He had been married only ten years, the same as me and my wife Deanna. It makes it all the more tragic when you realise how young he was, with young children of his own’.

As he grew older and began going to sea himself, Scott found that the connection to his grandfather remained close: ‘When I go to sea, I always think about them. I think about how little they had to work with and how good they were to be able to do the rescues they did with so little kit and technology. Grandad has always been my hero.’

John remembers Scott’s grandfather and describes him as a steady and dependable man: ‘Jimmy Johnston was a very stalwart man. Very strong, very big. He was always with his brother, Robert. They were different, but the same, and they were a great team. Jimmy was more ‘get on with it’. Robert was the brains. They fished together and did the building work together. Really good guys. Robbie was full of fun. Great for taking the mickey. Jimmy was more quiet and gentle. I remember he always wore a beanie hat that could become a balaclava. Scott is quite like his grandfather. He stands back and watches what’s going on rather than being in the thick of it. He has a lot of his grandfather in him. Similar in stature and nature.’

Although Scott had always wanted to be part of the lifeboat crew, becoming coxswain was never something he imagined when he was younger: ‘I always wanted to be on the lifeboat but never dreamed of being the coxswain. When I was little Kevin was the coxswain, and I could never consider a time when he wouldn't be. When the job came up, I jumped at the chance. I was volunteer crew before that, but my main focus was to continue the legacy; to be part of Longhope’s legacy.’

Scott’s connection to the lifeboat goes back many generations. ‘My family has always been involved in the lifeboat. Benjamin Stout, the first coxswain, is my great-grandfather many times removed. My grandad Jimmy, has three Lifeboat Awards for rescues he was involved in. My house is named Strathcoe after one of the rescues he was involved in where fourteen people were rescued, and my dad still has the velums on display.’

Now the story of the disaster has begun to pass to the next generation. Scott says: ‘My children know about Jimmy. They recently did a project at school. They think about him a lot, look at photos and ask questions. They love the lifeboat, and the three of them want to join. I would be very, very proud if they joined. They do worry when the pager goes off but I always reassure them that I’ll be ok.’

Reflecting on the men who launched that night, Scott says their legacy continues to shape the lifeboat service today: ‘I am incredibly proud of the men who lost their lives that night. What they did and the sacrifices they made have shaped the lifeboat service we have today. Because of them we now have better equipment, better training and safer boats, which means we can continue the work they believed in - saving lives at sea’.

Asked what he thinks his grandfather would make of the lifeboat station today, Scott reflects on how much has changed since those days: ‘I don’t think he would be able to comprehend the technology. I wonder what he would think about there being no wheel like the one they had on TGB. He would be chuffed to see it was still here. Most of all, I hope if he could see me now, he would be proud of me.’

More than five decades on, the lifeboat still launches from Longhope, crewed by volunteers from the same small community. For those who serve today, the memory of the men who went before them is never far away, and they are remembered with both sadness and deep pride for what they achieved. Their courage and commitment continue to inspire those who follow. Young people growing up on the island still look to the lifeboat and hope one day to be part of it, just as generations before them have done. Today the station is supported by many families whose connections to the lifeboat run deep, with volunteers serving across the crew, shoreside team and guild. And now, more than fifty years on, some of those who lead the lifeboat today stand at the very same ages their grandfathers were when they launched that night in 1969. Each time the pager sounds, and the lifeboat launches once more into the Pentland Firth, the legacy of the men who went before them continues.

Never forgotten:

Daniel Kirkpatrick

Robert Rattray Johnston

James Johnston

Daniel Raymond Kirkpatrick

James Swanson

Robert Johnston

John Kirkpatrick

Eric McFadyen

Fair winds and following seas.

Notes to editors

• Longhope lifeboat station has been operating since 1874. To learn more about the lifeboat station go to: Longhope Lifeboat Station (rnli.org)

RNLI media contacts

Vicky Mackinnon, Lifeboat Press Officer, 07703 688066, [email protected]

Richard Smith, RNLI Regional Communications Manager for Scotland, 07826 900639, [email protected]

Martin Macnamara, RNLI Regional Communications Lead for Scotland, 07920 365929, [email protected]

RNLI Press Office, 01202 336789

Key facts about the RNLI

The RNLI is the charity that saves lives at sea. Its volunteers provide a 24-hour search and rescue service around the United Kingdom and Republic of Ireland coasts. The RNLI operates 238 lifeboat stations in the UK and Ireland and more than 240 lifeguard units on beaches around the UK and Channel Islands. The RNLI is independent of Coastguard and government and depends on voluntary donations and legacies to maintain its rescue service. Since the RNLI was founded in 1824, its lifeboat crews and lifeguards have saved over 146,700 lives.

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