Reina on the Rocks

Bound for Spain and England with 566 passengers, the 17,872-ton British liner Reina del Pacifico headed out of Bermuda's Hamilton harbor through the narrow North Channel early one morning last week under command of Captain E. C. Hicks, making his first voyage as master. In 26 years the sturdy, Belfast-built Reina had made the trip hundreds of times. This time, six miles out, in the midst of colorful sea-fan gardens growing in coral that teems with blue angelfish, the Reina went aground on Devil's Reef.

After 3 1/2 hours a laconic voice announced over the loudspeaker: "As you may know, the ship has gone aground." Two tugs and a U.S. Coast Guard cutter came, tugged futilely and quit. Reporters swarmed out in small boats, were driven off by ship's officers who brandished a fire hose.

In the evening the ship's band, as usual, played "Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!" First-class passengers invented a cocktail: "Reina on the Rocks." Some of them began going ashore to sightsee, while others began flying to Britain at the expense of the Pacific Steam Navigation Co. When third-class passengers also asked for air passage, they were told to go ahead--at their own expense.

The fourth evening, as a full moon peeped over a calm sea, two tugs put towlines over the ship's sides, rocking her gently as her own windlasses tightened up on cables to outlying anchors. The Reina slid off the rocks as easily as she had slid on 84 hours before. Said the laconic voice over the loudspeaker: "Passengers are advised the vessel is now free." Said shattered Captain Hicks: "They're greasing a noose for me on the other side. This is my first and last passenger-ship command, I can assure you."

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