Fire Aboard

It took less than 45 minutes from the time the smoke alarm sounded for it to blow -- an explosion that sent shock waves into the night, rattling windows of waterfront condos, filling the air with acrid smoke. Gathered on the docks of Port Aventuras, their faces bathed in the orange glow of the fireball that had been the Subaru, more than a hundred people watched burning diesel, sputtering like butter in a frying pan, surround the boat. After the blast, the boat began to settle stern-first. With the bow protruding above the flames, suddenly the master stateroom hatch blew, flames licking at the hull as smoke gushed from the anchor hawse pipe. Seconds later, she was gone, engulfed by the sea.
Capt. Tim Hyde's account reads like a chapter out of a paperback thriller, but it's a vivid memory for this seasoned captain. With firefighting systems now required equipment on new boats, most boat fires aren't serious and are easily extinguished -- but not always. Fact is, boat fires are more common than people would like to think, and Hyde's tragedy could easily befall any one of us.
"There's nothin' worse than an engine-room fire," observes Capt. Alan Starr, who has seen his share of them in and out of the Coast Guard. "Given the space constraints in the engine room and combustibles that are all around you, engine fires are the worst to fight." Modern Halon or chemical fire fighting systems that automatically discharge at the first sign of heat and smoke can be life-savers, but as the Subaru fire proves, they're not infallible.
Hyde was asleep in the top bunk of the starboard crew's quarter when the fire on the Subaru broke out sometime after 10 p.m. With no windows, no hatch and the door closed, the stateroom was dark, cold and sound-proofed from the air conditioning, so he barely heard the beeping sound in the salon. He thought at first his alarm had gone off, but then realized from the burning sensation in his eyes and throat, it was the smoke alarm. Grabbing his eyeglasses and swim trunks, he stumbled up the companionway stairs into a fog of smoke, dropped to his knees and felt the heat beneath him as he crawled to the door and fell into the cockpit. Breathing deeply, he pulled the manual Halon override and heard the whoosh of the chemical snuffing out flames.
"The boat had a good automatic Halon system, but I guess it wasn't hot enough for it to trip," says Hyde, who next pulled the shore cord to cut power, then jumped aboard the boat next to him to warn them of the fire. Within minutes he was back aboard the Subaru, wetting down the cockpit and boat surfaces when the fire reignited, this time within the confined quarters of the salon. Though the fire was smothered by Halon chemicals, it was a breezy night and air seeping back through the engine-room vents gave the fire the oxygen it needed to rekindle.
Mike Reece, captain of the Diamond Lady, who'd been dining in the marina restaurant, arrived in the nick of time. Reece was just clearing the slip when the Subaru's starboard salon window blew, shooting flames where the Diamond Lady had been moored just seconds before.
The term firefighters use to describe what happened is backdraft, explains Tom Reinis, a professional firefighter and battalion chief from Florida who spent six years fighting fires in the Coast Guard. "To prevent moist air from coming in, boats are made to be water- and air-tight -- a potentially dangerous situation for backdraft," Reinis says.
Fires go through stages, he adds. In the beginning, the fire produces only small amounts of smoke and heat, so room temperatures may be just above normal. Once it starts to consume more fuel and oxygen, it spreads rapidly; temperatures during this free-burning phase can exceed 1,200 degrees. Fires are big oxygen consumers, which is why in confined spaces such as a boat, oxygen levels can drop as low as 21 percent, which is one reason people become so disoriented. As the intensity of the fire increases, oxygen levels drop to the point that the flames will eventually go out (at about 15 percent). The fire then enters its hot, smoldering phase.
At this point, Reinis says, many people make the mistake of thinking the fire is out -- that it's safe to open the hatch or door to check the damage. But it's not. With temperatures still about 1,000 degrees, it's very much alive -- waiting for that first puff of air to reignite it. And when that happens, because the heat has created pressure, the fire reignites with explosive force, involving everything around it.
Understanding what causes fire and how to fight it is the key to survival, says Reinis. The prerequisites to fire are fuel, air, heat and an uninhibited chemical chain reaction such as vapors or sparks. Remove any one of the four elements by cooling the fire to below its combustion point with water, smothering the airflow or interrupting the chain reaction with a chemical agent, and the fire goes out.
That, however, wasn't likely to happen that May night to the 61-foot Buddy Davis known as the Subaru. With 1,000 gallons of by now pre-heated fuel in its aluminum tanks and a half-dozen filled dive tanks in the cockpit set to go, it was a time bomb. Because of its length, the boat was docked closest to the narrow entrance leading into and out of the harbor. Now it was a burning barrier, blocking the safe passage of 25 downwind vessels, to say nothing of more than 60 condominium residences surrounding the site.
Needless to say, everyone was scrambling, cutting dock lines with machetes and knives to get boats moved before the inevitable explosion. Hyde, with the help of marina manager Mike Madden, risked his life, getting lines to the burning boat and towing it from its slip beyond the inlet and breakwater in an inflatable tender. Those witnessing the events were so impressed by Hyde's bravery in the face of imminent catastrophe, they put together a letter of commendation for the skipper, and in the sobering light of day took steps to limit their own vulnerability in the event of fire.
"We had battery-powered smoke alarms on our boat," says the Diamond Lady's Reece. "But after the Subaru burned, we realized it wasn't enough. Taking what happened to Hyde to heart, we installed AC alarms in the engine room that are so sensitive, they'll simultaneously go off on the bridge, in the salon and in the staterooms even before the automatic Halon system cuts on. Extra fire extinguishers have been added to each stateroom along with rechargeable battery-powered flashlights, so if we did have a fire in the night, we could find our way out."
Another owner took his boat to Whiticar Boat Works, where he had steps built in the master cabin for easier access to the overhead hatch in the event of a fire. Yet another called Merritt Boat Works to inquire about upgrading his firefighting systems and having dampers installed on the engine-room vents.
Since the Subaru explosion, Hyde has taken the position as skipper of the new 65-foot Merritt Tyson's Pride. During the building of the boat, Hyde gave a lot of thought to fire safety features, which included the addition of heat and smoke sensors with an exterior hailer that can be heard from a distance, along with professionally engineered chemical firefighting systems that can be activated manually as well as automatically. Expressing some trepidation about sleeping belowdecks, Hyde recently purchased something called an "emergency escape device" that fits over the torso to become a protective smoke and fire shield. "At $65, it's a bargain," he adds.
The majority of boat manufacturers comply with American Boat and Yacht Council standards, a voluntary set of regulations covering everything from safety and materials recommendations to installation guidelines. Yet not all boats -- especially older vessels -- comply, which is why regular safety inspections are vitally important.
As Capt. Tim Hyde, or any skipper who's experienced a fire aboard, will tell you, the time to begin thinking about fire prevention is now -- not when you're watching the glowing embers of what was once your offshore sport-fisherman sink below the surface.