TAKE NOTICE THAT under the power conferred by Section 3(3) of the Wreck Removal Act 1935, the Ministry of Tourism & Transport requires the owner of the Trimaran Yacht “Tao” which is wrecked or derelict now lying in the vicinity of Ely’s Harbour to appear before me at the Department of Marine & Ports Services . . . to show cause why an order should not be made directly to you, the owners, to remove to sea and sink, burn or otherwise destroy such crafts.

>Y this notice, the bells began to toll the death knell of another vessel that dared to brave the wild Atlantic, only to sink forever onto the Queen’s Bottom at Bermuda. No doubt this was a spiritual death as well, the end of a dream for the captain of the Tao, who perhaps saw a stop at Bermuda as a good part of the world cruise of a lifetime.

But this is speculation, for I never spoke with the captain, though I saw him at a distance doing something on his vessel, grounded on a beach in Ely’s Harbour.

Nor did I see any officials from the Departments of Immigration, Customs, Marine Services, or the Marine Police for that matter, so I only write generally of the matter of “ciao the Tao”, or bye to the trimaran.

The story of how this boat came to an end at Ely’s Harbour is the age-old story of ships that sink in shallow waters controlled by local governments, rather than in the deepest blue of open sea. Better to sink unseen in a thousand fathoms and make a claim on Lloyd’s marine insurance, than to founder ignominiously on the rocks or beaches of a national entity.

The first part of the story of the Tao is recorded on the web site of the Rescue Co-ordination Centre of the Bermuda Maritime Operations, otherwise known to locals as “Harbour Radio”.

Wednesday, July 27, 9.2.m.: Bermuda Harbour Radio receives a Pan Pan Urgency call from 55-foot trimaran, Tao, with 1 person on board which has struck an object and is taking on water 12 NM Southwest of Gibbs Hill Lighthouse and requests immediate assistance. Bermuda Harbour Radio contacts Marine Police. Vessel advises there is a 2-foot square hole in hull and pumps are unable to keep up with water ingress. Fishinessel <$>Challenger is contacted by RCC Bermuda and arrives on scene at 2 a.m. After stemming the water ingress with a marine pump provided by Marine Police, the llenger is able to safely tow the vessel into Ely’s Harbour.

So endeth the first part. The second began on the morning of July 28, 2005, when neighbourhood residents awoke to find a strange boat in their backyard that is Ely’s Harbour.

Looking worse for wear and increasingly the worst for just sitting as the days, weeks and months went by, the boat was alternately inundated and drained with the comings and goings of the tide, for apparently several more holes were effected during the rescue operan. Instead<$> of going to the bottom once and for all, the Tao appeared to sink or refloat itself twice a day, depending on the tide. It was an interesting marine reality show for some months. The incessant rattle of a generator became part of morning and evening song, but the boat never rose an inch from the beach floor until it was “otherwise destroyed”, that is ripped apart.

That middle part of the story became a saga, possibly outlasting the length of any oceaoyage the Tao ever made. In the open sea, for a few short minutes, real sharks might circle a sinking boat, hoping for some edible offcuts. Within a “land” context, various officials will start to circle the boat sooner or later, being an alien craft and its crew but visitors.

Their goal is to ensure that the boat and its crew conform to local regulations. One department wants you to leave on time; another wants money by way of import duties if you overstay your visit, while a third wants derelict boats to be relieved of that status by consignment to the deep or death by fire.

Whatever happened with the owner-captain of the Tao is not here recorded, but what is certain is that the boat overstayed what welcome it had.

Unlike the Russians, whose boat was still afloat around the same time, little was heard ofdering the Tao out of Bermuda, perhaps for the most obvious of reasons that it could no longer float.

If the captain overstayed his time, it is assumed immigration officials would have been in pursuit. The boat was here for longer than the time allowed before import duties become due, so presumably a bill for those funds would have been issued against the vessel and whoever owned it. Finally, the Marine Police and Marine Services Department would have been involved, as the boat, being derelict and possibly abandoned, becomes a civic problem, to be resolved by its removal in this case.

No doubt legal issues abound throughout any such exercise and the possible overlap of departmental jurisdictions muddies the water evenrther. The<$> end for the boat, if not legalities and claims for duties, came swiftly one day a few months ago. Stuck in the mud and incapable of a single lift onto the removal barge, the Tao was “clammed” to death by a shark of a bucket with big teeth, dropped from a crane. In a little more than a blink, a long-time eyesore was removed from one of Bermuda’s prettiest harbours. Pity the same discipline could not be applied to the boat graveyards that are now an affront to the senses, especially those of visitors, in several public places about tisland.

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Dr. Edward Harris, MBE, JP, FSA, Bermudian, is the Executive Director of the Bermuda Maritime Museum. The views expressed are his opinion, not those of the trustees or staff of the Museum. Comments can be sent to drharris<$>@logic.bm or by telephone at 799-5480.