I teased this story in a piece I wrote that introduces the upcoming Golden Globe Race. I mentioned one sailor that took part in the first Golden Globe back in 1968 who became certifiably insane and made his own way, in an untimely manner, to Davy Jones’s Locker. For those that don’t have a nautical bent Davy Jones’s Locker is the metaphorical final resting place for sailors well beneath the ocean surface. Of all the wonderful stories that come out of these exploits by men and women who choose to sail the ocean blue, this is one that has stuck with me over the years.
Donald Crowhurst was a businessman in Southern England. He made mostly electronics and did well enough to raise a family of four in respectable comfort, but as things changed Crowhurst found himself struggling to meet his bills. What he needed was a good publicity stunt that would bring him media attention, and if successful, the kind of recognition that he craved. He settled upon entering the ‘68 Golden Globe race.
Crowhurst was a weekend sailor. He was not a hardened seaman, the kind of person necessary to take on such an undertaking (and succeed). His first move was quite clever; he decided that he would build a catamaran for the race. His second move was an unintentional trap that many of us would have fallen into. We can protest otherwise, but once you stop and give it some thought you will see with the benefit of hindsight that we all would likely have taken the money.
Crowhurst needed money so he took it, in a form of sponsorship from a wealthy businessman who was intrigued by what Donald was undertaking. Stanley Best, probably unwittingly, most likely killed Donald Crowhurst. You see he put a condition on his sponsorship. Crowhurst had to complete the race or return the money. That was it, a simple stipulation that made sense if you were going to fork out a decent chunk of change.
Crowhurst took the money and in doing so added a big amount of pressure to an already pressurised situation. He had to make the start deadline of October 31,1968 and he had to make it around the world.The press, not just the sailing press loved the idea of a middle class businessman with four beautiful children taking on what had been dubbed the toughest challenge any man could undertake. They unwittingly also played a part in Crowhurst’s demise. At this point he had no choice but to do the race. He had spent all of Stanley Best’s money and with a spotlight on him he knew that if he didn’t go he would be ruined. His business would fail and he would be a laughing stock. He had gone so far as to name his boat Teignmouth Electron, Teignmouth being his home town.
So on the 31st October, just hours before the deadline, Crowhurst set sail. He knew in his heart that the boat was most definitely not up to the task. Among other issues, he hadn’t finished building it. He was also not too sure about his own mental state. The hard slog and stress of making the start had all but depleted him.
He made it out into the Atlantic without too much trouble. The wind gods had been kind, but once the breeze filled in things started to break. All race competitors were required to make contact with the race officials as much as they could. It was not always easy given that they were using a single-sideband radio. Crowhurst had hired a publicist, a large man by the name of Rodney Hallworth and Hallworth wanted as much news from the boat as possible.
It was around a week into his voyage when two things happened. Donald Crowhurst knew that he would never make it around the world. He also knew that he couldn’t go back to England. If he did Stanley Best would be demanding his money. That was when the second thing happened. He figured that he could fake the entire voyage. He wouldn’t sail around the world. Instead he would remain in the North Atlantic and make up positions that showed that he was making progress south. No one would ever know.
There were a few holes in his plan. While there was not that much shipping back then, there was some and he had to be on the lookout. If he spotted a ship he had to hide. They would certainly try and make contact. It was an unwritten rule among mariners that they check on the wellbeing of others sailing in the same waters. The second problem was that when you broadcast from a single-sideband radio, the further you are from the person receiving your call, the higher the frequency you need to use. If he was to claim that he was in the South Atlantic he would somehow have to make it look like his single-sideband calls were being transmitted from that region.
The person receiving the call had to be on the same wavelength. Fortunately Crowhurst was a radio ham and managed to jig the system when he made a call, and fake damage to the radio when he needed to be silent for a week or so. This really sent publicist Hallworth into a spin. He needed just something to embellish for the London tabloids.
The plan was working well. He had some hull damage so he made a stop in Rio Salado, Argentina to get it repaired. During this stop, he gave his name and passport details to a local coastguard post, which recorded him as ‘Charles Alfred’. It was clear that paranoia was starting to settle in.
He spent most of his fake voyage close to Argentina but after a few months returned to the North Atlantic plodding along under headsail only so as to not put any undue stress on the rig. He managed to fool race hq with a call in which he claimed he was approaching Cape Horn. Hallworth was ecstatic. Not only was Crowhurst proving the critics wrong, he was actually catching the leaders.
The stress of the calls and the lies and the chore of keeping an actual logbook and a fake one that he would have to hand it to be scrutinized by the race officials and keeping a constant lookout for ships was slowly getting to him, say nothing of the loneliness and isolation that he was dealing with. He slowly started to let the boat maintenance go. It was a constant mess as he plodded around the ocean trying to dodge ships and making fake calls back to race hq. He had been at sea for almost five months. He had missed his children’s and wife Clare’s birthdays. He had missed Christmas. He knew that he was a fraud and he was starting to worry that once he returned the race officials would find out and it would be all over the papers. That plus he would have to return the money to Stanley Best.
Then things started to get really bad. His mind was all over the place. The tropical heat and general filth was making life on board intolerable. Then things took a turn for the worse. Fellow competitor Lieutenant Commander Nigel Tetley sailing Victress was getting reports that Crowhurst was catching up to him. His team encouraged him to push the boat a little harder despite there being hull damage. On the night of May 21st his boat sank.
When that bit of news got back to Donald, he knew that the gig was up. There was no way that he could return to England. His fantasies and dreams and nightmares all started to take on a life of their own. Crowhurst knew that the time had come; he also knew that he had reached a different dimension in life. It was a dimension where he imagined himself as god. He had convinced himself that he could walk on water and after a few days of frantically writing in his log, messages that when later analysed showed glaring signs of psychosis and paranoia, he wrote his last words, “It is finished. It is finished. IT IS THE MERCY.” With the firm conviction that he would be able to walk on water he stepped off the back of the boat and that was that. Davey Jones had a new resident.
The boat was eventually spotted by a ship and when the ship captain was unable to reach anyone, he sent over a crew to investigate. The boat was empty, but what they did find were the two logbooks, one real and one fake. They also found the boat in a complete mess and the radio half dismantled.
Now you can see why that story stuck with me and is on my mind as this fleet in the upcoming Golden Globe race, which starts on xx , hopes that there are no Crowhursts among them. I am sure that this story is on the minds of all the skippers. Sailing really can make you do crazy things.
My only regret is that Crowhurst didn’t livestream his voyage. Now that I would have paid for!
Here, thanks to an AI search, are three movies about his trip. If you are ever in a bookstore that sells old books buy The Strange Last Voyage of Donald Crowhurst – it’s a terrific read.
The Mercy: A high-profile biographical film directed by James Marsh, starring Colin Firth as Donald Crowhurst and Rachel Weisz as his wife, Clare.
These films are about the voyage – I can attest to The Mercy being great mostly because I am a Colin Firth fan, and a Rachel Weisz fan.
Crowhurst: A lower-budget independent feature directed by Simon Rumley that focuses heavily on the psychological strain and isolation of the voyage.
Deep Water: A compelling documentary utilizing Crowhurst’s actual 16mm footage, audio tapes, and interviews with family members to reconstruct the doomed journey.
