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Muhammad Ali takes a last sip of coffee, steeling himself for another shift in the noisy engine room of the cruise ship, Prince and Dam. It's just after midnight on October 4th, 1980, and Prince and Dam is rumbling southwest through the Gulf of Alaska, en route to its next stop, Japan.
Ali misses the strong bitter coffee of his home country. He's Indonesian, as are many of the 200 crew members aboard the ship. Indonesia is one of the stops on this cruise and he's hoping he'll get a few hours off to disembark and meet up with old friends. He tosses his coffee cup in the trash, then swings open the door to the engine room and steps onto a narrow catwalk, ready to begin his nightly rounds.
Ali is what's known as an oiler or a greaser. It's his job to do preventative maintenance, making sure all the various parts of the ship's four massive diesel engines are well lubricated and running smoothly. He shares a name with the famous American boxer, Muhammad Ali, but he's no heavyweight.
He's short and skinny. All the better for squeezing through the cramped spaces of the engine room. The clatter of the machinery all around him is almost deafening. He can just barely hear an engineer calling him over to help change a fuel filter. It's one of the hundreds of tasks that keep the engine room functioning.
The 319 passengers in the decks above may be fast asleep in their cabins, but the work of the engine crew must continue around the clock. Ali glances up. Engines 2 and 3 tower above him on either side. Immense blocks of iron and steel that vibrate and rumble with power.
They use diesel fuel to power the ship's propellers, a process that also produces massive amounts of heat. That heat is mostly dispersed through the huge smokestack that juts up through the center of the ship. But there is still plenty left over to keep the engine room sweltering, even though the water in the Gulf of Alaska is barely above freezing.
Suddenly, Ali notices a flash out of the corner of his eye. He turns and sees blue flames shooting up from an exhaust pipe. He's surprised. These pipes can get scalding hot, but he's never seen one catch fire before. Then he sees the problem. A stream of oil is spurting from a broken supply line and splashing directly onto the exhaust pipe.
The pipe is so hot that the oil is igniting on contact, like lighter fluid on a campfire. Ali watches in horror as tongues of flame dance up the engine parts, climbing higher and higher. He turns and shouts to his co-worker. Fire! Fire! Fire!
He races back down the catwalk and up a ladder toward the control room. He needs to report the fire to the officer of the watch, then find a fire extinguisher. And he doesn't have much time. The fire is small now, but in the hot, cramped engine room, it could spread fast, and the lives of all 500 people aboard Prince and Dad could be in danger.
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In the early morning hours of October 4th, 1980, fire broke out on a Holland America cruise ship called Prinsendam. On board were 200 crew members and 319 passengers, many of whom were elderly. When the fire started,
the ship was in open seas off the coast of Alaska, more than a hundred miles from land. As the situation grew more desperate, the crew of Prince and Dam did all they could to fight the fire. If they couldn't contain it, the captain might be forced to give the order to abandon ship. And as the remnants of a typhoon approach, the seas are getting rougher by the hour.
This is episode one, The Blaze. John Graham stands on a dock in Vancouver, Canada with his daughter Mallory. He gazes up at the cruise ship that will be their home for the next 29 days, Prince and Dame. He squeezes Mallory's hand and he flashes her a smile. What do you think? Mallory eyes the ship skeptically. I thought it would be bigger.
Graham has to chuckle at that. She's not wrong. Compared to most cruise ships, Prince and Dam is compact. Only about 400 feet long. Her hull is painted navy blue, her upper decks are pristine white, and her central smokestack is a vibrant shade of orange. Large white wooden lifeboats hang along her upper decks. To Graham, she looks sleek and
elegant and state-of-the-art. But his 13-year-old daughter is less than impressed. It's late afternoon on Tuesday, September 30th, 1980, and Graham is feeling nervous. Not about the cruise itself or the places they'll be visiting. Alaska, Japan, Hong Kong, the Philippines, and Indonesia.
Graham is a former diplomat. He's perfectly comfortable in other cultures. No, he's nervous about spending a month on a ship with his teenage daughter. They've gone on trips together before and always had a great time, but nothing this long. Still, Graham can't believe his luck. He's actually being paid to go on this cruise. All he has to do is give a few lectures about his experiences in the Foreign Service.
Graham and Mallory start making their way up the gangplank. They have to maneuver around several slow-moving elderly passengers as they go. Graham looks at his daughter.
Hey, you know, I wasn't much older than you when I took my first trip to sea. Was it on a cruise ship like this one? No, no, not exactly. I won an essay contest and the prize was a six-week trip aboard a cargo ship. Not as a passenger. I was actually part of the crew. Was the crew as old as these passengers?
Graham laughs. Mallory's right. At 38, he figures he's at least 20 years younger than the average age of the passengers around him. No big surprise, he thinks. This four-week cruise costs upwards of $5,000 per passenger. Only wealthy retirees can afford the time and the money.
"Yeah, sorry kid. I don't think you'll be finding many friends your age here." "That's okay, Dad. It'll be good to spend some time with you." Grams squeezes her hand tighter. When Holland America said he could bring a guest, he immediately thought of Mallory. He and Mallory's mom are on the brink of divorce, and so Grams more determined than ever to strengthen his relationship with his daughter.
As they step aboard the ship, they're welcomed by crew members in crisp white uniforms. A brown-haired woman with a seemingly permanent smile greets everyone with the same line. Get ready for thrills and adventures you'll never forget. The greeting may be a little cheesy, but Graham still feels that familiar rush that always invigorates him before a big trip.
Less than a month ago, he quit his job in the Foreign Service. He's done so much in his life. Combat experience in Vietnam, hitchhiking around the world in his 20s, journalism, mountain climbing. But the past few years have left him feeling like a cog in a vast bureaucracy. He wants to do some good in the world, but he's no longer sure what that looks like. Maybe he can use his time aboard Prince and Dam to figure it out.
Graham turns to Mallory, but she's no longer next to him. He looks down the hallway to see her darting ahead toward their cabin. He's glad to see that despite her doubts, Mallory seems to be as excited as he is for whatever adventures lie ahead. Matthew Osterwick steps onto the bridge deck of Prince and Dam for the first time.
and looks for his new boss, Captain Cornelius Wabika. Osterwick has been hired to serve as second officer aboard Prinsendam, and he's eager to make a good first impression. He spots the captain silhouetted against the windows of the ship's bridge and strides over to greet him.
Captain Wobika, it's an honor to join your crew, sir. Osterwyck, I was told you'd be joining us, and they promoted you to second officer. Congratulations. Sorry to drag you away from the St. Martin Sun. Osterwyck is based in the Dutch Caribbean. This will be his first time sailing to Alaska. He nods and smiles. Happy to be here, sir. I wouldn't miss it for the world.
Wawika smiles back, then waves over another officer named Simon, who will take him on a tour of the ship. Osterwick falls in step behind Simon, eager to explore. The two officers exit the bridge, moving toward the stern. They walk past passenger and crew cabins, then down a grand staircase to the promenade deck. Simon points out the numerous amenities on this level. A terrace restaurant overlooking a swimming pool.
A duty-free shop, a movie theater, and a spacious lounge. Osterwick is impressed. For a relatively small luxury liner, Prince & Dam seems to offer everything its well-heeled passengers could want. One level below the promenade is the main deck. Here, Simon shows Osterwick a large formal dining room with starched white tablecloths.
From there, they continue down a passageway, with more passenger cabins lining each side. Osterwick looks up. "This is the third deck we've seen, and I still haven't spotted a single sprinkler head." Simon doesn't stop walking.
Don't need 'em. This ship was built after new international regulations came into effect. It's made with non-combustible materials, and we have a robust fire detection system, so we don't need sprinklers. If a fire breaks out, we can seal off any part of the ship, and then flood it with carbon dioxide. That'll snuff out any fire before it can spread.
Osterwick nods, satisfied with the response. Holland America builds strong, safe ships, and Prince and Dam really is state-of-the-art. He follows Simon down to the next deck, ready to discover more. Susan Stevens stands in the lounge area of Prince and Dam's dining room, flashing a smile as guests arrive for the 8 p.m. dinner seating.
As the cruise hostess, it's her job to make sure every passenger is comfortable and entertained. She greets the guests, asks for their names, and checks them against the list of passengers who have been invited to dine with Captain Wabika and his wife. Stevens notices a woman standing alone, a glass of white wine in her hand.
Most passengers tonight are dressed casually, but this woman is decked out in an expensive-looking navy blue gown, her diamond jewelry sparkling in the light. Stevens approaches. I hope you're enjoying your cruise so far. I'm sure I will once we actually start cruising. What's the holdup?
We're going to depart right on schedule in about 45 minutes. In the meantime, can I get your name, please? What for? I want to see if you're on the guest list for the captain's table. The woman wrinkles her nose. My dear, I don't dine with my chauffeur. I'm not about to eat with a man who drives a ship. Stevens politely excuses herself, shrugging off the woman's rudeness. She's been doing this job for years, and she's seen it all.
At 8 o'clock, she gently ushers all the passengers into the dining room and into their assigned seats. Once everyone's settled in, she glides from table to table, listening to passengers gush over the menu. Out the windows, she can see some passengers leaning over, waving their final goodbyes to bystanders on the pier. The sky is dark now, but the ship's floodlights illuminate the deck.
For a moment, she steps outside to feel the damp air and say a quiet goodbye to land. Beneath her feet, she can feel the unmistakable vibration as the ship's engines rumble to life. Prinsendam is headed out to sea. Richard Steele tries to stifle a yawn. It's 10 a.m. on Wednesday, October 1st, the cruise's first morning out to sea.
Richard and his wife Louise have assembled with other passengers on the promenade deck for a mandatory lifeboat drill. Richard had hoped that the fresh air would sweep away his jet lag, but no luck. Instead, the warm sun is making him even sleepier. The Steeles flew in yesterday from their home in Worcester, Massachusetts, just in time to board the ship. They spent their first night in their cabin tossing and turning.
Richard half wishes he was back in the office today. He's the publisher of Worcester's daily newspaper. The country is just weeks away from a presidential election, an exciting time in the news business. But Louise had planned this trip for months. He couldn't disappoint her. So here he is, literally out to sea for four weeks with no newspapers, no phone, no radio. He looks over at Louise, who is also yawning.
We both need some coffee. I'm trying to pay attention. Richard removes his glasses and rubs his eyes, then puts them back on and tries to focus on the lifeboat drill. He looks up at lifeboat number four, the one he and Louise are assigned to.
The long wooden boat has been lowered halfway to the promenade deck by electric pulleys. A crew member leading the drill reaches up to smack the lifeboat's hull and explains it can hold almost 100 passengers. Five other lifeboats with varying capacities are also on board. The crew member raises his voice to be heard above the hum of the engines.
Besides the six lifeboats, Prince and Dem also has two tenders with motors. Richard fights off another yawn as the crew member drones on. He really needs a nap. Louise sidles up next to him. You know, Richard, this drill is making me superstitious. Remember that postcard I mailed to our grandson before we boarded? I wrote on the back, "I just hope it doesn't sink."
Richard pats Louise's hand. As a newsman, he knows that disasters can strike, even aboard ships as sturdy as this one. But no need to tell Louise that. "I wouldn't worry about that. Remember, boats are made to float." Richard steps toward the railing of the deck and glances west at the horizon. He looks down at the water. The ocean is calm today. They should arrive in Alaska tomorrow morning.
He's glad he put on his windbreaker though. The air is getting colder. He wonders what he should do today while they're at sea. The activity sheet that appeared beneath his cabin door this morning outlined a whole list of options. Shuffleboard, a lecture about Alaska, even skeet shooting off the boat's fantail. Just then, the crew member blows a whistle. Richard turns to see the lifeboat slowly creeping back up to its cradle high up on the ship.
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The captain has turned off the ship's engines so the passengers can better enjoy the moment. Glacier Bay. What a fitting name, she thinks. On both sides of the channel, walls of ice emerge out of the aquamarine water. Beyond them stand snow-covered mountains. The whiteness is almost blinding. Jeannie squints and looks up. A bald eagle is circling high above them.
Her mother, Neva, stands beside her. Jeannie can see she is also in awe. "Photos really don't do this place justice, do they?" "Not at all. I'm so glad we're here to see all of this in person." Neva is 77, but she's still as spry as ever. In fact, it was her idea to take this trip.
Six years earlier, they went on a cruise through Southeast Asia and had a wonderful time, stopping in places like Bali and Sumatra. Prince and Dem had been their ship on that cruise as well. Genie had figured that it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But then, a few months ago, Neva held up a Holland America brochure and said, "Let's do it again." Genie couldn't say no.
Even though her mother is in good health, who knows how much longer she'll be able to take a trip like this. So Jeannie arranged a one-month sabbatical from her teaching job in Northern California and said goodbye to her husband Bill. As they gaze out over Glacier Bay, the sun breaks through the clouds and the light makes the glacier sparkle again.
The ice is a thousand different shades of white, blue, and turquoise. Suddenly, a huge piece of ice shears off and crashes into the water below. Genie and her mother gasp and wait for the waves to reach the ship. Genie feels the deck sway gently beneath her feet. Neva clutches her arm. My goodness, I'm glad we weren't any closer to that.
Jeannie reaches her arm over Neva's shoulders and pulls her close. She feels blessed to witness all this beauty alongside her mother. Matthew Osterwick steadies himself as waves crash against Prince and Dam's port bow. It's late afternoon on Friday, October 3rd, and Osterwick is off duty, enjoying a brisk walk around the promenade deck.
It's easy to get sedentary on this ship, so Osterwick tries to stretch his legs several times a day. He's just rounding the far end of the deck when he feels that telltale drop in his stomach as the ship crests, then falls. After spending several hours in Glacier Bay, Prince and Dam has just entered the open sea. The sheltered waters of Glacier Bay were calm, but out here it's a different story.
The ship is equipped with stabilizers meant to minimize the rolling from side to side, but Osterwick knows that no technology can truly negate the effect of nature.
Another wave slaps against the port bow as he braces himself against the railing and surveys the water. They're in what mariners call a confused sea, with swells from a distant source coming in one direction and waves driven by local winds coming in another. It's making Prinsendam pitch and roll unpredictably. Whitecaps appear, then vanish as the ship lurches through them.
Osterwyck is used to rough seas, but he figures some of the passengers might start to feel a little queasy soon. A grey-haired man walking past catches his eye. This is a little choppy, isn't it? A bit. Nothing unusual for these waters though. But if the wind picks up, the ride could get bumpier. Bumpier? Well, that wouldn't be very fun.
The passenger excuses himself and makes his way carefully down the deck, gripping the railing as he goes. Osterwick takes a last look at the horizon before heading inside. He didn't want to tell the passenger what he saw in the latest weather report. Sometime in the next 24 hours, Prinsendam will sail into the remnants of a typhoon. The sea may be rough now, but it's nothing compared to what they'll face then.
Jeannie Gilmore fingers her pearl necklace as she sips her wine. She feels a little awed, seated alone in the large main dining room. Then again, she's not the only person dining solo. Only six other passengers have made it to dinner, and most of them are sitting by themselves too. Everyone else must be feeling as seasick as her mother. Neva had tried to dress for dinner, despite her queasiness.
When Jeannie suggested that she just rest in the cabin, Neva looked relieved. Jeannie is a little worried about her mom. On the other cruise they took together, Neva never showed a trace of seasickness, but they also never encountered seas this rough. For some reason, the pitching and rolling of the ship hasn't affected Jeannie's appetite. She ate the whole meal and enjoyed every bite.
She calls out to a passenger at a nearby table. An older man, who's also dining alone. "What a delicious dinner, right? It's a shame there are so few people here to enjoy it." The man looks at her and grins. "Yeah, there's going to be a lot of hungry people on this boat in a few hours, but not us." Jeannie can hear the band start to play in the lounge next door.
Maybe a little music will help pass the time and relax her before bed. She gets up, wishes the other passenger a good evening, and heads towards the lounge, steadying herself against the wall as the ship rolls. The lounge is set up like an intimate cabaret theater, with little round tables and padded swivel chairs surrounding a small stage. When Jeannie stumbles in, trying to keep her balance, she sees that she's the only passenger.
On stage are a group of musicians in tan suits, playing a jazz tune. Genie is about to slide into a chair in the front row when suddenly the violinist puts down his instrument, turns his head, and vomits. The other musicians blanch, looking like they may do the same. Genie decides that's her cue. She gets up and heads back to her room to check on her mother.
Tonight's entertainment may have been a bust, but the cruise is just getting started. As soon as the waters get calmer and everyone gets over their seasickness, there'll be plenty of time for fun. Muhammad Ali dashes through Prince and Dam's cramped noisy engine room. He needs to find a fire extinguisher and alert the other crew members about what he's just seen: an oil fire between engines two and three.
He reaches the ladder that leads up to the control room and clambers up as quickly as he can. At the top, he throws open the door and yells to the crew members inside. There's a fire in engine two. Oil leak. Ali doesn't wait for them to react. He grabs a dry powder fire extinguisher clipped to a bulkhead and races back down the steps. He feels sweat beating on his neck.
In the few moments he was away, the fire has not slowed down. The oil leak that's feeding it is now arcing five feet into the air. He gets closer and squeezes the handle on the fire extinguisher, aiming the nozzle at the flames. The chemical powder from the extinguisher briefly smothers the fire, but it quickly roars back to life, fed by the spout of oil.
The engine room is filling with black diesel smoke, making Ali's eyes water. He gasps for air. Holding the fire extinguisher steady, he steps closer to the burning pipe. Suddenly, he feels thick liquid on his face and lips. Some of the gushing oil has splashed onto him. He can taste it on his tongue. A thought seizes him. If there's oil on me, then I can catch fire too. Panicked, he jumps back.
A fellow crew member squeezes past him, wearing an oxygen mask and dragging a hose. He shouts to Ali, "Stand back! I'm going to spray the exhaust pipe to try to cool it down!" The source of the fire is a scorching hot pipe. The oil is splashing against it and igniting on contact. Ali watches as the crewman turns the nozzle of his hose and sprays seawater on the pipe. For a moment, the flames die down.
Elise steps forward and aims his fire extinguisher at the oil spout, hoping the chemical powder can smother the source of the leak. The other crewman yells again. "You hear that? They're shutting down engine two. That should cut off the leak." Elise stops spraying and listens. He can't see much through all the smoke, but he no longer hears the crackle of flames. Did they do it? Did they put out the fire?
But then he hears a whoosh and a fireball bursts up from the exhaust pipe. Ali leaps back, feeling the heat blast against his face. Behind him, he hears other crew members shouting. Ali can't understand what's happening. The fire was out.
With Engine 2 shut down, there should be no more oil to feed the blaze. And yet, now the flames are leaping higher than ever, licking the sides of the engines and filling the room with even more black smoke.
As Ali scrambles back down the catwalk to safety, he ponders what could happen next. If they can't put out this fire soon, they'll have to abandon the engine room, seal it off, and wait for the fire to die out once it's starved of oxygen. But in the meantime, if the fire renders the engines inoperable, the ship will be stranded.
They'll be adrift in the ocean, hundreds of miles from land. But the alternative is even worse. The way this fire is burning, it could spread beyond the engine room. And if that happens, the entire ship could be doomed.
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Captain Cornelius Wabika hurries into the bridge, the sound of alarm bells clanging in his ears. It's just after 1 a.m. Moments ago, a ringing phone in his cabin awakened him and his wife.
A voice on the other end told him there was a fire in Brinson Dam's engine room. Wabika jumped out of bed, threw on his uniform, and raced here to assess the situation. Second Officer Osterwick tells him the ship's location. They're 131 miles due south of the closest land. The nearest Coast Guard rescue center is in Sitka, Alaska, 200 miles to the east.
Help, should they need it, is not close. Wabika feels certain that the fire will be contained soon, but regulations demand that the passengers be alerted and evacuated to the deck, away from any potential smoke and flames. So, he gets on the public address system and makes an announcement.
Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking. We have a small fire in the engine room. It is under control and there is no danger. I repeat, there is no danger. However, we ask all passengers to report to the promenade deck while the smoke is being cleared. We apologize for the inconvenience.
Just as he finishes making the announcement, there's a commotion behind him. He turns to see the chief engineer stumble through the door. He's out of breath. Wabika can smell the smoke on his clothes. He lays a hand on the engineer's shoulder. "Are you alright?" "Yes, sir. But one of my crew passed out from the smoke. They've brought him to the infirmary. He'll be okay." Wabika takes a breath. No serious injuries. At least, not yet.
Tell me, what's the status? We tried shutting down the engines that cut off the source of the oil leak, but the fire is spreading and it's getting too hot for any crew to remain in the engine room. And sir, there's something else. What is it? Our fire hoses, sir. They've lost all pressure. When we shut down the engines, the pumps should have switched over to auxiliary power, but for some reason, they didn't. For a moment, Wabika stares out the windows of the bridge into the dark night.
The situation is so much worse than he thought. He turns back to the chief engineer. Alright, so what are our options? Well, we need to flood the engine room with carbon dioxide. It's the only way to keep the fire from spreading.
Wabika considers this. Carbon dioxide is sure to put out the fire by starving it of oxygen. But it will also render the engine room uninhabitable for hours. No one will be able to go in and restart the engines until all of the CO2 has been pumped out. But Wabika feels he has no choice. Okay, do it. But make sure every last crew member is out of there. I want you to confirm it yourself. Aye, sir.
The chief engineer hurries back down to the engine room, and Wabika lets out a heavy sigh. He hopes he can trust the chief engineer to fully evacuate the engine room. Otherwise, anyone left in there will suffocate. In cabin 416, John Graham sits up in bed, confused. What is that sound? A bell? An alarm? He looks over at the clock. 1.05 a.m.
Then he hears a voice coming through the ship's loudspeakers. "Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking. We have a small fire in the engine room..." Graham lets it sink in. A fire? In the engine room? He goes to turn on the light above his bed, but when he flips the switch, nothing happens. In the dark, he looks over in Mallory's direction. He can barely make her out beneath the covers. She's still fast asleep. "Mallory..."
"Mallory! Wake up!" Mallory rolls over and buries her face under the pillow. "What is it?" "You have to get up. They just announced that there's a fire and we have to gather on deck." Mallory sits up. She's awake now. "A fire? How bad is it?" "I don't know, Mal. But we better do what they say." Graham stands up and goes to the cabin door. He opens it and the noise from the fire bell intensifies.
Emergency lights from the hallway faintly illuminate their cabin's darkened interior. He glances over at the chair where he threw his suit jacket only a few hours ago. He hears the announcement again as he and Mallory pull on jeans and shirts. It says nothing about bringing life jackets or dressing warmly, so they just throw on windbreakers. Hopefully, Graham thinks, they'll be back in their beds in just a few minutes.
Susan Stevens, the ship's hostess, knocks on another cabin door. She can't believe that even after the alarm and the captain's announcements, there are still passengers asleep. Hello, excuse me, wake up please. Every passenger must get to the promenade deck now. A few moments ago, Stevens was awakened by the smell of smoke in her room.
Then she heard the alarm and the captain's message. She threw on a t-shirt over her nightgown and began knocking on doors. She glances down the passageway. More and more doors are opening. Passengers poke their heads out, looking tired and confused. Most are still in their pajamas or underwear. A thin haze of smoke is beginning to fill the narrow corridor. Stephen gives the door a final hard knock.
She's about to give up and move on, but then an elderly man emerges, fiddling with a hearing aid. Susan realizes why so many of the passengers have been hard to awaken. They take out their hearing aids before they go to bed,
The man looks at her expectantly. "What is it?" "There's a fire in the engine room, sir. The captain is ordering everyone out of their cabins and onto the decks. You might want to wear something warm, okay?" The passenger stares at her in disbelief, but then his eyes go wide as he notices the smoke over Stephen's shoulders. He turns and yells for his wife, who's still asleep. Satisfied, they've been notified.
Stevens continues down the passageway. There are more passengers to warn. Muhammad Ali slumps onto the deck in a passageway outside the engine room, coughing and gasping for air. He inhaled so much smoke trying to fight the fire that he nearly passed out, but all his efforts were in vain.
Other members of the crew mill around in the passageway, their faces streaked with soot from the diesel smoke. Ali sees a few officers among them, but no one seems to be taking charge of the situation. He hasn't heard anyone give an order for at least 15 minutes. He turns to one of the other crew members. "What happens now?" "They're going to release carbon dioxide into the engine compartment and it'll snuff out the fire. No fire can last when there's no oxygen."
Okay, but what's taking so long? They need to make sure everyone's out first. Ali understands. In addition to the massive engine room, they'll also need to seal off the control room, the auxiliary engine room, and stabilizer room.
All four rooms share the same ventilation system. Ali's pretty sure they've all been evacuated, but it's possible someone still might be in one of them, maybe passed out from the smoke inhalation. But he knows the longer they let the fire burn, the more chance it'll spread. It's burning so hot that even if it's contained, it could still superheat the bulkheads surrounding the engine room and ignite whatever's on the other side.
If that happens, then no one on board is safe. After what seems like an eternity, Ali sees the door to the engine room open. The chief engineer staggers out in a cloud of black smoke, wearing an oxygen mask. He rips it off as the crewmen seal the door behind him. "All rooms are clear. Call the bridge. Tell them to release the CO2." Ali sees an officer rush to the nearest intercom. Finally, they're going to put out this fire.
He just hopes that they're not too late. John Graham steps out into the hallway and notices something's amiss besides the piercing alarm bells. Then he realizes what it is. The engines have stopped.
The vibration that's a constant part of life aboard Prinsendam has ceased and its absence feels wrong somehow. Up and down the hallway, other cabin doors are opening. Their occupants emerge looking as confused as Graham feels. Some are fully dressed, some in robes and slippers. He and Mallory and other passengers make their way down the hallway towards the stairwell. The hall is beginning to cloud with smoke.
Mallory has slipped ahead of him. He sees her reach a closed fire door and push against it. It doesn't budge. She turns around and calls to him, a note of fear in her voice.
Dad, it's locked! Other passengers tried the door too, but Mallory's right. It's locked. Graham realizes they must be sealing off parts of the ship to contain the fire. Now he's scared too. Clearly, the captain's announcement downplayed the seriousness of the situation.
The scrum of passengers doubles back, and for a second, Graham considers going back to their room for their life jackets. But he's stopped by a crew member in an oxygen mask. Excuse me, sir. Keep going toward the exit onto the promenade deck. Graham stares at the oxygen mask, his blood running cold. He takes Mallory's hand in his and grips it tightly as they head toward the other stairwell.
This could be bad, he thinks. This could be very bad. This is episode one of our four-part series, Fire at Sea, Cruise Ship Rescue. A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about this event, we highly recommend the book None Were Lost by Stephen J. Corcoran.
I'm your host, Mike Corey. Steve Fennessy wrote this episode. Our editor is Alyssa Adams. Our consultant is Stephen Corcoran. Sound design is by Joe Richardson. Our audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Our production coordinator is Desi Blaylock, produced by Emily Frost, Matt Almos, and Alida Rozanski. Our senior producer is Andy Herman. Managing producer is Matt Gant. Senior managing producer is Tanja Thigpen.
Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman, Stephanie Jens, and Marshall Louis for Wondery. Wondery.
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