By now the Oceanos was taking in more and more water and heeling markedly to its starboard side. Launching the remaining lifeboats on the port side safely was near impossible.
Instead of being lowered down to the water once loaded up with people, the lifeboats would cling to the side of the ship until the next big wave rolled in, tipping the ship enough to let them dangle freely.
“And then gravity would suddenly drop the lifeboat three or four metres (13 ft) in one go, almost tipping people out into the open water, it was horrific,” Moss says.
Eventually, he realised it was too dangerous to continue.
“In the effort to try and rescue people we were possibly going to kill them,” Moss says.
And time was running out.
Unable to launch any more lifeboats, but with hundreds of people still in need of rescue, Moss and others made their way up to the ship’s bridge – where they assumed they would find the captain and the remaining senior officers – to ask what to do next.
“We looked inside, but there was no one there,” Moss says. “That’s when we realised – it’s just us.”
Orangey-red lights blinked in the darkness, but Moss had no idea what most of the equipment was for, never mind how it worked. They took turns trying to use the radio to send an SOS.
“I was calling, ‘Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!’ and just waiting for somebody to answer,” Moss says.
A big, deep, rich voice eventually replied. “Yes, what is your Mayday?”
Relieved, Moss explained that he was on the cruise ship Oceanos and that it was sinking.
“OK. How long have you got left to float?”
“I don’t know – we’ve got the starboard railings in the water, we’re rolling around, we’ve taken on a huge amount of water,” Moss said. “We still have at least 200 people on board.”
“OK. What is your position?”
“We’re probably about halfway between the port of East London and Durban.”
“No, no, no, what are your coordinates?”
Moss had no idea what their coordinates were.
“What rank are you?”
“Well, I’m not a rank – I’m a guitarist.”
A moment’s silence.
“What are you doing on the bridge?”
“Well, there’s nobody else here.”
“Who’s on the bridge with you?”
“So I said, ‘It’s me, my wife – the bass player, we’ve got a magician here…'”
Moss was put in contact with two small ships that were close to the Oceanos. They told Moss to find the captain and get him onto the bridge. But Moss had no idea where he was.
“I knew he wouldn’t be down below because we were sinking,” he says. “I was making regular checks to see where the water level was, and one deck below us was flooded.”
Eventually, Moss found the captain, right at the back of the ship, smoking in the darkness. Moss explained that they needed his help – urgently.
“He was just looking at me, wide-eyed and vacant, saying, ‘It’s not necessary, it’s not necessary,'” Moss says.
“I think he was in deep, deep shock.”
The two ships close to the Oceanos had only one lifeboat each, so there was little they could do to help. They shared the sinking vessel’s coordinates with the South African authorities who began to organise an air rescue mission.