The Fantee

“Captain – there’s breakers on the starboard bow!”

Captain Andrews spluttered over his boiled egg. “So what!” he thought as the rest of his breakfast lay in front of him. He carried on with his egg. But the Second Officer was not quite as calm. Rushing out of the bridge he could see that the ship was heading quickly into a patch of rough water.

“Turn starboard fast” he shouted and the ship responded quickly. So quickly in fact that Captain Andrew’s coffee spilt down his shirt and over the table. Angrily he rushed up to the bridge to countermand his subordinate’s command.

“Carry on up north you dolts” he shouted. The ship continued the fast turn and headed back up north into the heaving waters. Captain Andrews returned to his breakfast and continued to spoon in his egg. Suddenly there was a sickening jolt as the ship ran hard into the submerged granite rock. As the yolk dribbled down his chin Andrews knew that this was serious. He rushed back up to the bridge. Pandemonium ensued as the rapidly flooding engine room drew screams of fear and anguish from the crew down below. Palm oil welled up from the fractured tanks and the ship began to list alarmingly. Thankfully, Captain Andrews regained his command as he took in the situation. Soundings were quickly taken. It was clear that the cargo ship had hit an underwater rock at full speed and was going to go down.

“Abandon ship” yelled the captain and he watched as the lifeboats were launched and his crew clambered in. Within an hour more help from the Scillies was available and all hands were successfully rescued from the stranded boat. As they left the sailors looked back at their stricken vessel with its bow pierced securely by the hidden rock. Their boat was going to go down.

24 hours later with her back broken, the Fantee – a cargo ship of 6500 tons and over 450 ft long – sank below the waves. She had sailed from Africa and was laden with mahogany logs, palm oil, coffee and rubber. The mahogany was stowed on her decks.

The Fantee is not often dived. The wreck lies in nearly 40m of water within the tangle of reefs, submerged rocks and pinnacles that make up the ship trap known as the Seven Stones partway between the Scillies and Land’s End. Nearby is where the Torrey Canyon met its famous end in 1967. The Fantee died rather more quietly in October 1949.

11 August 2000.

The day was glorious. Calm blue skies and sea with just a touch of haze over the low lying islands of the Scillies over to the SW. We were 7 miles out at sea and could feel the thrill and adventure of an epic dive about to unfold. We kitted up knowing that Tim was going to place us on just the right spot. Nonetheless, the ocean seemed awful big and we were a long way out with just a lonely blinking lightship keeping us company.

Peter Weeks and I did our last buddy checks “We’re ready” we shouted as Tim wheeled the Morveren around to the shot. Off we went over the side. We gathered at the shot and signalled down. As we sank slowly down through the clear azure water of the ocean we could see the sea bed opening up below us at 35 metres. There sure was something down there and it wasn’t just reef. As we approached the bottom bits of wreckage became clearer. There was a rudder and a small truck. “Great” I thought and we hadn’t even touched bottom yet.

We landed at 36 meters on the remains of a rudder. After a quick buddy OK we looked around. There were piles of indiscriminate wreckage all around. In one direction beckoned the deep blue of greater depths but we headed back the other way over the stern and towards the decks. There were loads of plates, rails and other iron work all around. Fish swam around through the clear blue calm of the wreckage field. This was exilarating diving. A gulley at 30 metres loomed up on our right so along we went. There were piles of mahogany logs littering the sea bed in the pale grey blue of the excellent visibility. We carried along to the end of the gulley and then finned back over the logs towards the wreckage area. The ever present wrasse eyed us suspiciously as we went towards the shallower rocks on our right.

Our computers were now telling us to begin ascent. And there in front of us was the lower rise of the pinnacle. As we went up we came to the remains of the engine at 18 meters. These were well rusted but open to full view and probably the best engine remains of a wreck that I’ve ever seen. Piston chambers, con rods – the lot and well crudded. And there peering behind one block was another diver – Tony Hoile – making faces at us. After some tomfoolery we slowly ascended over the remains of the aft decks until we came to the pinnacle at 5 meters that had caused all the trouble in 1949. We decompressed in superb vis, colour and light.

As we sat amongst the kelp it was so easy to imagine the ship hitting the rock we were sitting on. The crunch of the contact, the rush of seawater, the noise of escaping steam and most of all the roll and settling of the large steel keel as it slowly disengaged from the rocky pinnacle and sank back into the depths that we had just witnessed. It was a privilege to have felt this wreck’s last moments above water and to have seen her remains on the reef below.

We emerged in bright sunlight on calm waters. Tim picked us up and rather reluctantly we climbed aboard.

“Good dive?” asked Malcolm as we dekitted.

“Not bad” I replied with a straight face.

Richard Knights

(Go to Scilly stories for more Scilly descriptions)