The 1963 Husky Rugby Team Escapes a Watery Grave

“It was a dark and stormy night … and the rain came down in torrents. The Captain said to Antonio … tell us a tale Antonio And, this is the tale he told!

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BACKGROUND:

The newly formed UW rugby team had a secret admirer.  He was not one of the Husky football players who were not permitted to join the team because Jim Owens thought they might be injured.  Nor was it one of the many, pretty co-eds who came to our games.  No!  This relic on the sidelines was an eccentric Professor named John Campbell.  Little is remembered of this man except for a few disjointed facts.  He had purchased an old yacht with a storied past and John lived on that boat in Lake Union … not far from the campus.  Before we go on, let’s learn more about this yacht … it will play a big role in our story!

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HISTORY:  

Aquilo was a steam yacht which was built in Boston in 1901 for a wealthy man who was the inventor of the stop sign.  In 1910, this gentleman sold Aquilo and the yacht was brought to the west coast of North America, where it was principally housed in California and occasionally sailed in Puget Sound and coastal British Columbia. Aquilo had a long succession of wealthy owners. In 1966, the yacht caught fire and sank while sailing from Seattle to Los Angeles.

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In 1962, Aquilo, then docked in Seattle, was purchased by John Campbell, an eccentric but multi-talented inventor and professor from California.  Campbell moved to Seattle, where he lived on Aquilo, trying to restore the vessel while working as a professor at the University of Washington.  Campbell's plan was to convert the vessel into a sea-going engineering campus.

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THE PROFESSOR’S ENTICING OFFER:  

As mentioned earlier, for whatever reason, John Campbell became a fan of our rugby team.  It is not recalled the attachment John had for the sport, but an offer he made to the team was most welcomed (best we had ever had … in fact!)  Upon learning that we occasionally played against Canadian rugby teams up in Victoria, BC … and being aware that there was wonderful harbor there and only about 75 miles of open water in beautiful Puget Sound separating his dock from that world-class destination … John Campbell made us an offer we couldn’t refuse.  He would take us to and from our match on the famous Aquilo!

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WELCOMED BY THE TEAM AND OUR “HONEYS”:  

Excitement was at a fever pitch as the date of our “yachting extravaganza” approached.  Ever guy who had a “honey” (1960s terminology for a sweet “steady” … another relic term!)  took up the Profs offer to take along a limited number of guests.  After all, it was only 75 miles and we would make the return trip the same evening following the afternoon match.  (Only the ones who checked with their father first refused our offer!)  Of course, we needed food and drink to sustain us; that got a “thumbs up” as well; a keg of Olympia Beer and snack food … as I recall!

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A HOUSEBOAT IS NOT NECESSARILY MEANT TO SAIL!  

As we all boarded Aquilo for the morning run to Victoria, some slight deviations from “ship shape” began to be noticed from those of us with experience in open water sailing.  Some of the port holes were missing parts and the empty openings were covered by sheets of plastic to “hold back the waves”!  The foredeck had sheets of canvas to cover the “outdoor living areas” … looked like a nice patio, but what about the wind?  There were a few other details which didn’t pass muster … but who wanted to be a kill-joy and bring them up.  After all, the weather was calm and it was time to say … “ALL ABOARD!”

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Thanks to calm winds and smooth seas, the trip up to Victoria was uneventful … as was the game which followed.  (Don’t remember much about the game!  The reader will soon know why!  The is a survival story; not a Sports Center recap.)

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WHERE DID THE CALM WINDS GO?  

Our happy crew and our lovely dates reboarded around 5 – 6:00pm, if memory serves.  Once again, we marveled at the beauty of the Victoria harbor and admired the architecture of the world-famous Empress Hotel smiling at us as we cruised, under steam power mind you, down the channel to retrace our “steps” back to Seattle.  The snacks were opened, the keg was cracked, the piano started to play … and the rugby songs began to ring out.  (Hope we didn’t offend any of our dates!  After all, it was the mid-1960s, and the pretty girls from the sorority houses had high standards. Did I mention that some of the girls had to opt out after checking with their Dads!)

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AND THE SEA BILLOWS ROLLED:  

There was one major difference that we all … despite multiple cups of Olympia … began to notice.  This boat was beginning to move; first like a gentle waltz followed by “swing music” and shortly thereafter the wildest “rock and roll”.  Those of us gathered around the piano noticed dishes falling to the floor and breaking in the near-by kitchen area.  The refrigerator began to rock … and eventually toppled over.  We stopped singing … and looks of wonder were soon exchanged for great concern!  (OK … terror!)  People who were walking the corridor by the cabins said the floor was awash in sea water.   (Those plastic porthole covers were beginning to fail!)  People who ventured to the front deck said all that beautiful canvas covering the deck was being blown to shreds.  Someone else thought they had seen a piece of board from the bow of the ship rip away!  And … then it happened!  Silence!

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THE STEAM ENGINE QUITS!  

It is now that the savvy readers out there will began to think … “lucky to be alive”; and they would be right.  Due to a summer job sailing tender boats to/from Alaska for the summer salmon season, I had some limited knowledge of basic seamanship.  To put it bluntly, I knew when to become really, really scared … and had we passed that point about a half hour ago!  

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A boat without power immediately settles into the trough (sideways to the waves) and begins to roll proportionately to the size of the waves.  We were now in some BIG waves.  I decided that I must climb up to the wheelhouse and have a candid conversation with “Captain Campbell”.  On the way, I witnessed the railings along the walkway dip virtually into the water when we encountered the larger waves.  

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Upon reaching the wheelhouse, I came upon my worst fears!  A helmsman (that would be Captain Campbell) clinging to the wheel, knuckles white with fear, and able to only give “sketchy” answers to my many questions.  Have you sent out an SOS?  Is there a chance for a “relight” of the engine?  Where are your life preservers?  How many do you have on board?  Could you use some help up here?  

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To the last question, John Campbell gave an enthusiastic head nod.  He steered me to a radio and I sent out a “Mayday” message with as much information as I could muster.  I never got an answer.  I don’t know if the message ever went out.  I don’t even know if the radio was working!  

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We were within 10 degrees of rolling over when the most beautiful sound in the world erupted from the engine room!  Some Angel from above had miraculously helped our terrified engineer get that 60-year-old steam engine (are you kidding me?) going!  First a sputter … then a roar … and Captain John was able to reverse course to Victoria.  We sputtered into the dock next to the Empress about two hours later.

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A MIDNIGHT CROWD GATHERS:  

Due to our late arrival, not many onlookers were there to greet us.  However, with the dilapidated condition of the ship bearing witness to our near tragedy … a crowd soon formed.  Some of the passengers, thankful to be once more on land, made their way to the Empress.  Could you help us?  The beautiful hotel opened her arms to all of us and we enjoyed wonderful rooms free of charge.  

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EPILOGE:  

The next morning, the local Victoria paper gave us several “inches” of front-page coverage.  All who witnessed the missing boards from the hull of the yacht and the twisted pipes which previously formed the skeleton for the outdoor living area agreed that we indeed were lucky to be alive.  When one adds the fact of the water several inches deep in the cabins and the fact that our 1901-era steam engine was actually brought back to life after several dead minutes in heavy seas … it is not an overstatement to say that our lives were spared.  

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Only in later life have I become aware that there is a God who rules and bestows His great favor on those He loves!  There is no doubt in my mind that He sent His angels to Puget Sound that night, long ago!  Is it too late to express our thanks?

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- Chuck "Mags" Magsig

Member of The Inaugural Team

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