I joined the Whale Catcher Simhra in Smith Docks, Middlesbrough in England, the same place as I joined the Southern Wheeler for the previous season. Except for a steering problem crossing the Bay of Biscay, the voyage south was uneventful.

After arriving at Leith Harbour, South Georgia, we took on supplies, whale ropes, harpoons, stores, etc and left in company with eleven other catchers and the new factory ship, the Southern Harvester. After two or three days we started whaling and worked our way into the Weddell Sea area of the Southern Ocean, this would have been approximately early to mid November.

After about two months fishing, on the evening of the 11th January 1947, the Simbra was lost. With a lot of high speed chasing, fuel was usually taken on every four to six days. On the morning of the 11th we delivered whales to the factory ship then went alongside for bunkers and stores but we were refused bunkers as the factory ship had a tanker alongside replenishing her tanks. It is possible that, with normal procedure, the Simbra might not have been lost for with full tanks the stability of the ship would have been much better but as it was we carried on fishing with what bunkers we had left.

The crew were all Norwegians except for the deck boy who came from Edinburgh and myself. I was on watch that evening of the 11th from 4pm to 8pm. We had caught and flagged two whales close up to an area of pack ice. It was my hour in the crow's nest from 6pm to 7pm. We were running before the wind chasing the rest of the pod which had taken fright so it looked like a long chase to catch them up. Perhaps that is why, as I was looking around, I saw the Skipper on the bridge talking to my watchmate probably telling him to turn round and go back to pick up the two whales we had caught before dark because at that moment she started coming round to starboard into the wind and, as is normal when turning sharply, she started keeling over to port - but this time she just kept on going over.

As I realised that things were not right I got out of the crow's nest to come down the rigging but she had keeled over so far I had to come down the rigging head first, on my hands and knees. As I looked down the sea was starting to pour down the hatch. I got down to the ship's side and to get aft to the lifeboat I had to shuffle my way along the outside of the ship which I managed by keeping a grip on the bulwark and going crabwise along the ship's side. When I got to the lifeboat the rest of the crew were already there.

They had got the covers off and my watchmate was cutting the boat adrift from the davits as there was no chance of getting it launched. By this time the sea was coming down the engine room skylights so we all got on the side of the ship ready to jump. That was a bad moment because with no distress signal sent and no lifeboat launched, when we all had to jump it was just like jumping to our deaths.

The shock of the cold water was bad but I managed to get a hold of the lifeboat strongback, the wooden spar that the covers are fitted over. The Skipper and my watchmate also got hold of it. The lifeboat luckily had floated free. It was quite close, but upside down. We started paddling towards it but the Skipper soon lost his grip and went under. It was slow going against the wind so my watchmate let go and swam to the boat. I could make no headway myself as I wasn't a swimmer but I struck out and made it. The fact that I was wearing a kapok lined coat gave me the buoyancy to get me there. The wireless operator also made it and between the three of us we managed to heave her over. After getting on board we pulled another four of the crew on. The boat, of course, was full of water.

We tried bailing but it was no use - the sea just kept slapping in over the side.
Three of the men died very quickly so we put them back over the side. Nobody else made it to the boat. The deck boy kept shouting my name but he, too, soon went under. We tried bailing again but it was no good. By sitting right up on the stern of the boat I managed to get out of the water, except for my legs below the knees. I had lost the mitten off my left hand but it wasn't long before my hands and legs were numb. I saw the smoke of a catcher as it was getting dark. I set off a flare but it wasn't seen.

The three men left in the boat with me didn't last long. The wireless operator, the fireman and the mate soon died. It was probably no more than an hour, hour and a half. The mate was the last to go. It was a long, cold night just sitting there. Thankfully the wind had dropped. An iceberg floated past close by and a couple of whales went past. I must have been in a semiconscious state when the sound of a harpoon gun going off brought me to my senses. I looked round and a catcher no distance away had just shot a whale. I managed to get to the middle of the boat and although I had lost all feeling in my hands and legs, I managed to get an oar with a bucket on it and place it where the mast went. They saw me and it wasn't long before they had me on board - that was about 11 am. I spent some time in the hospital on the Southern Harvester. My knees were badly bruised and I think it was a week before my legs and hands came right although it was a fair while until my left had got back to normal.