even the Pacific oceans, a lone voice speaking nightly from a ham radio in Bermuda is a welcome and reassuring sound. Sometimes, that voice becomes a life-line, warning of stormy seas ahead, guiding a damaged boat into calmer waters, or confirming that help is on the way for an injured crewman.

The voice belongs to Mr. Herb Hilgenberg who, seven nights a week, 52 weeks a year for the past seven years, has provided a personal weather service for well over one thousand vessels each month. For many people, he is the Voice of Bermuda, giving this small island exposure of an invaluable kind for sailors all around the world.

His service has been the subject of countless articles, in such prestigious magazines as Yachting World, Ocean Navigator and Cruising World. His fan-mail, from hundreds of grateful mariners, fills a huge `concertina' folder; one letter even proclaims that the Canadian who, by day, is employed as the Operations Manager of Island Glass, deserves a knighthood.

What began as a personal favour for friends about to depart on an ocean voyage, who were anxious to receive accurate, up-to-date weather reports, has since grown into what some may see as a punishing schedule which demands at least six hours of his time each day.

He never goes out to dinner ("we settle for brunch,'' says wife Brigitte) and he has never had a holiday since the nightly link-up began in 1986 ("We live on a vacation island -- who needs a holiday?'' he quips). And the service he provides it's all for free. In fact, Mr. Hilgenberg estimates that his "hobby'' costs him at least $300 per month in telephone and electricity bills, fax and computer paper.

His reputation as a self-taught meteorologist has earned him not only the praise of the Washington Weather Bureau, but an invitation to share his expertise with them when he travels to the States soon, to give a weather briefing to the skippers and organisers of the upcoming Marion-Bermuda yacht race.

But this projected trip has created a dilemma. Who will do the nightly broadcast while he is away from Bermuda? The Bureau was considering the possibility of appointing a temporary senior meteorologist from the Naval Academy to stand in for him, but since Mr. Hilgenberg has voiced doubts about that arrangement, they have now decided to try and set up special equipment for him to broadcast direct from Washington for a few nights instead.

Mr. Hilgenberg's equipment takes up a large portion of the living-room of his harbourside cottage in Paget. A fax machine delivers a seemingly constant stream of surface pressure/wind charts from the US Navy out of Norfolk and the Canadian Forces weather centre in Halifax. These are then programmed into his computer.

Daylight and infra-red images from a satellite (received through specially designed equipment rigged up in his garden) are monitored and updated every half-hour on the screen which shows an animated view of cloud formations and movements, similar to those seen on TV. The whole operation is a cyclic one as, each night, vessels tuning in to the radio link-up supply him, in turn, with prevailing weather conditions. This information is then sent to the Washington Bureau or, when necessary, to the National Hurricane Centre at Coral Gables in Florida. The latter, incidentally, has requested him to pass directly to their headquarters, "the slightest suspicions'' regarding hurricanes.

Each morning, Mr. Hilgenberg checks the latest data which is then updated when he returns home for a quick sandwich lunch. In the evenings, he rarely manages to sit down to dinner with the rest of his family: He is too busy preparing for his radio session with as many as 60 boats later in the evening. Nowadays, he even receives calls from ocean liners.

"Not long ago, a guy called from Southampton, England, saying he had dangerous explosives on board a cargo ship and wanted me to advise him on the calmest route to Belize, New York and West Africa.'' Mr. Hilgenberg explains that while there are regular weather reports coming out of the UK and US, "These are very broad outlines , lasting only five minutes and covering 3,000 miles each way across the Atlantic, Caribbean and the Gulf of Mexico. There are not enough ship observations out in the Atlantic.'' This is where Hilgenberg's service steps in, providing an analysis of local conditions -- wherever that may be.

"I'm able to give people reports and warnings for their particular patch of ocean. Even if they have the data, it is often difficult to find time to analyse the information. And some people find it hard to make sense of it all.

It's easier to tune in to me!'' He acknowledges that the human element also provides an important impetus in his nightly vigil: "Because of this network, people realise they are not completely alone out there on the sea. They know there is a means of contact if something goes wrong. Family members call me up all the time for information!'' Over the years, Herb Hilgenberg has been involved in many dramatic, life-threatening incidents. "But'', he smiles, brandishing the ever-present tobacco pipe, "I've never lost anyone yet!'' His most recent drama occurred last December when he provided the vital radio link between Bermuda's Harbour Radio, the US Coast Guard and the Owl , an American yacht in danger of sinking in stormy seas some 300 miles off Bermuda.

For days he was in constant contact as ten separate efforts were made to drop a pump on the stricken vessel.

And almost 12 hours before the National Hurricane Centre had issued an advisory, Mr. Hilgenberg had received a report of hurricane-force winds a few hundred miles south of Bermuda from the yacht Miguea . Although that boat managed to sail south and out of danger, Anita Page, aboard Sparrow , caught the full force.

He says he was very saddened that her valiant, 72-hour battle left her so exhausted that she subsequently slept "within yards of the Sonesta'' while Sparrow ran aground and was dashed to pieces on the rocks.

Far more difficult to forecast are tornadoes and water-spouts, says the meteorologist.

He agrees with Naval Air Services's claim that last week's tornadoes were impossible to predict with existing equipment: "Even if it was forecast, there was no way of predicting where it would strike.'' Nevertheless, he had noticed low pressure in the area -- and had promptly "moved a few yachts around''.

Usually, he refrains from offering advice. "That's really up to the skipper.

I can only tell them what I would do in the same situation,'' says Mr.

Hilgenberg, who is himself an experienced sailor.

Captain Lee Black, master of the Bermuda Biological Station's oceanographic research vessel, Weatherbird II for the last four years, is one of Mr.

Hilgenberg's latest fans.

Speaking from the Station, where he is awaiting completion of Weatherbird 's $1.1 million major conversion in Louisiana, Capt. Black says: "I think Herb does more for the goodwill of Bermuda in boating and shipping circles than anyone could ever imagine.'' Admitting that he only became aware of Herb Hilgenberg about a year ago, Capt.

Black says: "Weather is one of our biggest obstacles and to have this quality of service, which is so specific to our location, is very impressive indeed.

It has made a huge difference since we started using Herb, as we are able to plan ahead in a way that wasn't possible before.'' Capt. Black says that, as far as he knows, there is no comparable service available in the States: "All the regular forecasts are on a much broader sweep of the brush. And he also becomes an update person whom we can reach in cases of emergency, or for safety reasons.'' And very often, the captain and his crew find themselves gathering around the radio to listen to the nightly session, even when they are in port.

"It's so interesting to listen to him. The personal rapport he has is just amazing. Bermuda is very fortunate to have Herb.'' BERMUDA BASED Mr. Herb Hilgenberg has saved many sailors' lives.