Longhope Lifeboat Disaster (50th Anniversary)

Part of the debate – in the Scottish Parliament at on 14 March 2019.

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Photo of Jamie Halcro Johnston Jamie Halcro Johnston Conservative

I thank Liam McArthur for lodging the motion for debate in Parliament. It is on a matter of great poignancy for our islands.

On 17 March 1969, if you looked out across the Pentland Firth, you would see a broad strait that had, for several days, been battered by gales, lashed by heavy rain and had snow hurled across it by the winds. My home overlooks the island of Hoy, with Longhope tucked behind. I have often seen how changeable that environment can be—the tides are among the fastest and strongest anywhere on earth. That energy, which today we recognise as a power source to be harnessed, makes for an inhospitable climate for seafarers.

That night, the lifeboatmen who set out to assist another vessel—the Irene—did not come home. Their boat was of wooden construction and very different to the lifeboats of today. Such vessels were strong, but unlike many modern lifeboats, they could not self-right if they capsized.

Visibility at the time was virtually nil and the waves were 60 feet high. As day broke, lifeboats from Kirkwall, Stronsay, Stromness and Thurso searched the area. The bodies of all but one of Longhope’s lifeboatmen were recovered, still with their boat. The eighth man, James Swanson, was never found. The islands mourned.

Among the names of those eight men lost, we see three Johnstons—James, Robert and Robert—and three Kirkpatricks, who were Dan, Jack and Ray. Eric McFadyen was the final name of those who died. Orkney is a small place. Such tragedies are felt not just in the homes and in the streets, but across our islands. For those two families, the tragedy must have been hardly bearable. As Liam McArthur said, the population of Brims, the small community on Hoy where the lifeboat was launched, was decimated.

Nevertheless, even today, we find the relatives of those men still faithfully serving the RNLI in Orkney. Today, another Kirkpatrick—Kevin—serves as coxswain at the Longhope lifeboat station. He lost his father, grandfather and uncle that night. However, as he says,

“being in the lifeboat is a way of life. It is in us, it is my blood”.

My home overlooks Scapa Flow, which is one of the world’s great natural harbours. When bad weather threatens, it is a refuge, even for some of the largest ships in the world. Anyone who stands on the cliffs at Yesnaby or travels to the south isles in a storm will understand just how ferocious the seas around Orkney can be. No-one who lives in an island community like Orkney needs to be persuaded of the importance of the RNLI. It is part and parcel of the heritage of the islands and touches so many of us directly. When I was young, my mother chaired the local ladies’ lifeboat guild. From an early age, I helped fundraising efforts to support the work of lifeboats in Orkney. More important was that I learned of the commitment of the men, and of their sacrifice and bravery.

We acknowledge the bravery of those men today—not just on that ill-fated voyage, but in every other launch when they put their lives in danger to help and rescue others. That night was not the first night on which a Longhope lifeboat crew was far from home in challenging weather conditions, and it was not the last. Today, there is still a lifeboat at Longhope, well over two centuries since it was inaugurated. The crew faces the same conditions that Orcadian lifeboat crews have battled time and again, over the centuries.

Outside Orkney, lifeboat stations can be found at many other coastal and island communities across the British isles. As members have mentioned, those communities also have a long heritage and have had their fair share of tragedies. Still, brave men and women, who are self-funded and mostly volunteers, venture out in the face of grave risks, simply to help others. They share their successes and, when tragedy hits, they mourn together.

That is why it is fitting that, to mark the 50th anniversary, the RNLI flag will fly at half-mast at the organisation’s headquarters in Poole. It will also be lowered at lifeboat stations around the country.

As always, the crews will remain on call, ready to respond, as they have for centuries.

That is the most fitting tribute to those eight men from Orkney, who did not come home.