The "ocean at our door" has been a bit of a paradox, a source of livelihood on one hand, tragedy and loss etched in so many widow's walk stories, on the other. Our history has been shaped with events arising from countless marine disasters. Edgar Burry recently moved into a senior's living space in Gambo, where from his comfortable easy chair he vividly recalled and coherently shared the story of his rescue from the sinking of the Patrick Morris in 1970. Originally from Greenspond, he left when only 16 to work in Buchans in 1947, and in 1955 was hired at Lewisporte as a steward with CN Marine (now Marine Atlantic). Around 10 PM, April 19, the Patrick Morris had just arrived at North Sydney on her 6 o'clock run from Port aux Basques. They received the news that the herring seiner Enterprise with her crew of eight was in distress. The mate spoke to the Captain of the Enterprise who said the seas were mountainous, their dory and wheelhouse were gone; all they had were their life jackets. He concluded with, "We're just about gone, good-bye and God-bless." They left North Sydney around midnight and headed into the raging storm and darkness using a search light. At dawn a body was spotted in the ocean. The Captain tried to maneuver the stern into the tumultuous waves to hopefully retrieve it but it proved futile. The Captain, on becoming aware the steering was malfunctioning, sent someone down to investigate. It was discovered that three pieces of the stern door had broken off and lay strewn across the car deck. Seamen came up shouting, "We're sinking." The Captain immediately announced over the speaker to abandon ship. Time was now their enemy; they quickly gathered their life jackets and began to prove the value of their weekly fire and boat drill procedures. The Patrick Morris was listing badly to the port side; hence the Captain prevented them from launching the starboard side lifeboat, directing them instead to the one on the port side. They went, ill-clad, through a hallway up to their waist in water. A steward in his bunk had to be called and firmly reassured it was no joke. With the deck under water, the last person aboard swam from the wireless room, about 70 feet in icy cold water, to be pulled into the lifeboat, almost capsizing it. It was paramount to move away from the sinking ship. They watched as her smoke stack touched the water and then rebounded, her head went straight up in the air, the last to be seen was her name plate; weird sounds were heard as she sank beneath the surface. A stern trawler and the CN Marine ferry Ambrose Shea had responded to their mayday, but the extreme weather conditions precluded their rendering much assistance except, maybe, buffer the waves. Time was interminable, as the icy wind slashed at their faces, and death lurked on every wave; yet they tried to remain spirited and courageous. After being tossed around for about two and one-half hours, they saw, what some believed to be an apparition, a mammoth ship shrouded in the snow. It was the Rhine Ore, a big German bulk carrier. At first, the Rhine Ore crew used a scramble net to retrieve them but it was too ineffective and dangerous as the lifeboat and its crewmen's shoulders were being beaten against the ship's sides. They transferred to a rope ladder and within 20 minutes all were safely on board. Few could speak English, the rest gesticulated cordially for them to change their wet clothing. They were served refreshments and a meal of pickled pig knuckles and brussels sprouts (which most saw for the first time). They were on board the Rhine Ore the rest of the day of April 20 until late the next day when they were landed at Port Cartier, Quebec. The Captain refused to go to North Sydney as he did not have the navigational charts. They were met at Point Cartier by the CN Marine Superintendent and a bus which took them the 63 km to Sept-Iles for a flight to Sydney. On arriving Sydney just before 8 p.m. on Tuesday April 21, Burry went to call home but someone stopped him and said if he was from the Patrick Morris he had to go in the enquiry room where he had to respond to detailed questions relating to the incident. They were on their way to a restaurant with 20 dollars, given to them by the Salvation Army, when the Police stopped them and brought them to the morgue to help identify bodies blackened with bunker C. They concluded from their apparel they were not from the Patrick Morris. After spending two nights on the Ambrose Shea, Burry got the William Carson's night crossing to Port aux Basques, arriving by bus at Gambo late Friday afternoon, April 24, anonymously and unceremoniously, to be greeted by a few family members. Burry continues to provide a lesson for us all. He doesn't dwell on what might have been, but is comfortable with the here and now. No matter what sort of difficulties or how painful the experience, his faith, hope and resolve remain strong. Above photo: Edgar Burry in his steward's jacket By Charles Beckett Gambo, NL   Submitted By: NULL