Our bow slices through the black and foreboding waters, accompanied by a gentle rolling wave undulating along our hull before breaking over the sticky dark surface of the Atlantic.
Gazing out from my balcony, I shiver at the thought of those monsters while we approach the island’s sharp volcanic peak silhouetted against the carpet of stars and a thin orange ribbon of daylight. We are traversing the world’s newest and largest marine reserve – Ascension Island – 440,000 square kilometres that, until recently, was a haven for big game fishing.
Or to be accurate – ‘HMS Ascension’. It was designated as a ‘Stone Frigate’ by the British Navy and is now designated ‘RAF Ascension’ for its Royal Air Force Station, a rocket tracking station, a spy headquarters and the base for the BBC World Atlantic Service. It also has an emergency landing strip – built by NASA for the space shuttle Atlantis.
Today, our internet has gone out, our mobile phones are blocked and the culprits might be the huge satellites and mysterious concrete bunkers dotted along the island’s barren coast.
You can’t get onto the island unless you are sponsored by a resident, and you can’t become a resident unless you are working in one of the island’s agencies. You need a permit to sneeze here and the 1000 residents offer little in the way of tourism. One thing they do deliver is the expert talents of various marine and historical experts who are willing to take the day off the rock and accompany the odd passing ship to expound their knowledge of this fascinating little-visited island and its surrounds.
Here in these waters, another Cunarder once sailed. The SS Laconia. She was torpedoed during WW2 by the infamous U-boat ‘U156’ in a tragedy which would become known as the ‘Laconia Incident’. The ship sank stern first in a shuddering convulsion, its bow standing vertically before slipping beneath the surface taking most of the Italian POW’s who were imprisoned in its bowels. Those that managed to escape were bayoneted by guards.
The U-boat hung around long enough to pick up some of the survivors, but was too late for the majority who were massacred by a feeding frenzy of sharks, the sinking unfortunately occurred in the early evening s just in time for the sixgill shark to be on its nightly migration to the surface. Joined in a feeding massacre with tiger and great white sharks, the results were unimaginable.
The survivors of the shark attack and sinking were rescued and accommodated on the outside deck of the submarine, but were later abandoned when she had to make an emergency dive after an air attack by the US – even though she was displaying a Red Cross flag and was in the act of saving a sunken ship. Dozens of survivors died by the strafing and bombing B24 aircraft, despite the civilians and crew signalling the plane of their plight.
This war crime was recounted at the Nuremberg War Trials some years later to the shame and embarrassment of the Americans.
The island also once held a garrison of soldiers who were ready to muster should the French mount a rescue mission for Napoleon who was being held on nearby St Helena.
We continued learning the intriguing history of the island over the ship’s tannoys whilst we proceeded around its perimeter and were regaled with the story of Leendert Hasenbosch who, in 1724 with a bible, some seeds and a diary, was marooned here for being a little too friendly with the cabin boy.
In what is thought to be the inspiration for Robinson Crusoe (and Desert Island Discs) his body was never found, but his diary was later taken back to Britain and published in 1726 recounting his futile search for water and the hallucinations of devils and ghouls that tormented him. His only companions were the huge land crabs – the only other inhabitants of this forsaken isle.
So, I’ve learnt three lessons this trip: don’t swim with sharks; Big Brother is always watching and don’t get too friendly with the cabin boy. (ROSS THORBY)