Peace in the Storm

God's protection on the Ebeneser within the cyclone.

The Christmas Cyclone on Ebeneser 1964

My brother Samuel’s story

Tuesday 22.12.1964

The mission ship Ebeneser was anchored in the small port of Kayts, located in the strait between the two islands. To the north is the island of Karaitivu, with an important naval station, and to the south is the island of Velana, with the small town of Kayts. Kayts, right on the seafront, has a customs station and a police station. The harbor is safe if the wind blows from the north or south, but it is open to the west and east winds.

Five Sri Lankan men, my brother Emmanuel and me, were on board. We performed routine maintenance and repairs in the morning. Everyone had their own roles.

Who sent the weather forecast?

At 12.15, I opened the radio to listen to the news and weather information from Sri Lankan Broadcasting every day at 12.30. After opening the radio, a familiar news reader, Vijaya Corea, was heard announcing the hurricane. The storm's center was 50 kilometers east of the coast of Sri Lanka and was approaching the east coast of Sri Lanka very quickly. I told the crew we would prepare the ship to face the storm after the meal.

There was little room for maneuver in the small and cramped harbor of Kayts, as large rocks were at the bottom. Depending on where the storm wind was blowing, the anchors had to be lowered to the right place. In the event of a storm, we dropped another anchor and as much anchor chain as possible. Under Emmanuel's leadership, the men cleaned up all the loose articles from the deck and adequately secured the ship's boats. All the portholes of the ship were carefully closed. I started both main engines and checked that they were in order. I filled the fuel tanks.

As we prepared, we noticed the fishermen went to sea in their motorboats. Many of them were known to us, and we shouted to them,

"Tonight, there will be a bad storm. Why are you going out to sea?"

The men laughed and replied, "There is no red warning flag at the police station. No storm is coming." They laughed at our hasty preparations. The men of the twenty boats never returned.

The wind started blowing sometime after 4 p.m. It increased in the evening, and after 8 p.m., there was a strong boom, and the ship swayed as the hurricane hit the ship's side. After that, there wasn't any use in going out on the deck.

The powerful engines of patrol boats from the naval station roared. The boats were tied to the dock, but the storm pulled them so severely that the pier was in danger of collapsing. The engines roared all night until the storm calmed down before dawn as fast as it had started.

I started the engines at about 10 p.m. because the storm hit the ship so hard that we feared the anchors would fail. Even though both engines were fully turned on, the storm tossed the ship like an eggshell. The use of the engines made the situation worse, as the boat was cast back and forth by the storm, and the machines only increased the ship's speed as it crashed from right to left and left to right, pulling the anchor chains to their limit. The use of the rudder did not affect the situation at all. I stood at the ship's helm and steered it as I received instructions from Emmanuel. Emmanuel was at the ship's bow, watching the anchor chain, and gave hand signals in which direction the rudder should be turned. The wind howled around us and raised water from the sea's waves, whipping Emmanuel's face. The situation looked quite hopeless. So, Emmanuel came into the wheelhouse and said, "The situation only gets worse when the engines are running. The strain on the anchor chain is increasing and not decreasing." All the men came into the wheelhouse with serious looks on their faces.

I heard a quiet voice say,

"Turn off the engines and tell the men to go to sleep."

It was the voice of God. I said to the men gathered on the bridge,

"Let's turn off the machines and go to sleep. God will take care of us."

Deep peace filled everyone's hearts, and we went to our cabins. I listened to the hurricane howl around the ship for a while and then fell asleep.

When we woke up in the morning, everything was as quiet as death. The wind had subsided, and the seawater in the Kayts Strait had risen higher than ever before. A few people were on the beach, gazing at the storm's devastation. At about 10 a.m., a naval boat arrived on the ship. The maritime station commander, other officials from the Kayts customs station, and the police chief boarded Ebeneser's deck. They spoke of the storm the night before. More than 400 fishing boats had left the Kayts and Jaffna areas. All the patrol boats had set off in search of survivors. They asked,

"Could you participate in the search?"

I said we were ready for it but didn't have much fuel. The Ebeneser's best speed was only 10 kilometers per hour. The commander of the naval station said it is better when we stay in port. One plane was coming to help, which could explore the entire area from the air and give instructions to the fleet's high-speed patrol boats.

Since there were officials present who should have warned the fishermen about the coming storm, I asked each one individually why the storm warning was not given to the fishermen. Why wasn't a red flag raised in the police station's flagpole to warn fishermen of the coming storm? The naval commander said Colombo, the country's capital, did not send any storm warnings to them. The police chief said the storm had developed so unexpectedly and moved so fast that there was no time to give a storm warning. The head of the customs station said there was no mention of the coming storm even on the radio. The storm had traveled from southeast to northwest at more than 30 kilometers per hour, with winds of more than 76 meters per second (278 km / h). There was complete chaos in the storm zone. Radio connections to Colombo were sporadic, and nothing was known about it.

The message I had heard on the radio on Tuesday, December 22, 1964, at 12:15 p.m., did not leave Colombo. That storm warning was never sent. God warned us of the coming storm. The warning just came as if through the radio.

Throughout Wednesday, patrol boats at Karainagar Navy Station, along with the Sri Lankan and Indian Air Forces, explored the 5,000-square-kilometer area of Palk Straight. At times, the boats went to refuel and change crews. No fishing boats were found in the sea on Wednesday.

In the afternoon, we learned that the storm had destroyed the Pamban bridge, swept the train into the sea, threw a ferry named Goschen ashore, and caused significant damage in the Mannar area. We were worried about what happened to Dad and Mom, as they were in the area now.

Then, I heard the voice of God for the third time. He said,

"I took care of you in the midst of the storm. I've also taken care of them. They're safe." Reverse

Friday Christmas day

In the morning, one fisherman was found alive at sea. He was unconscious when he was brought ashore in a naval patrol boat. The man died at the hospital. In the afternoon, one of the fisherman's bodies was brought ashore. It was already severely swollen. No one went to identify the body because it smelled so bad. We had run out of money and had done what we could. Along with the Red Cross, authorities transported widows and orphans to their homes.

Saturday 26

The first messages came to us that the money lenders had gone to empty the homes of the widows and orphans of all their belongings. The fishermen had borrowed money for boats and nets, but now they were dead, and the lenders went to get what they got. We had no choice but to cry out to God for all their suffering people.

Late at night, we heard a motorboat approaching the port of Kayts. After a long boat trip, it brought Dad and Mom from Mannar healthy and in good shape.