Marine Casualty Response: The First Call Checklist
By Gus Marchetti, Salvage master. Reviewed by Dana Whitcombe, technical reviewer.
Marine Salvage & Recovery | Hull & Bottom Cleaning At 0230, the phone on my nightstand buzzed. A chemical tanker had lost steering in the Traffic Separation Scheme off Rotterdam, loaded with xylene, and a ferry was twenty minutes out. I was still in my underwear, but that call turned into a marine casualty response that worked because I asked the right questions in the first sixty seconds. Twenty-two years of wreck removal and salvage taught me one thing: no response plan survives first contact with the sea, but a good first-call checklist does. The plan is a living thing. The checklist is your anchor. Here's what I run through on every first call—the numbers, the names, and the order of questions. It's blunt. It's practical. It's saved my ass more times than I'll admit.
Step One: The Basics—No Fooling Around
First thing I ask: 'Who is the vessel, and where the hell is she?' You need the name, IMO number, deadweight, cargo, and a position. Not 'somewhere near the buoy'—give me a latitude and longitude or a bearing from a harbor entrance. Fill in that information before you call anyone else. You'd expect that, but in the heat of a casualty, people lose numbers. I've had a ship owner call me and say 'We're near Aberdeen.' Aberdeen is a big place, mate. Which end? Then I ask about the incident: Has the vessel grounded, collided, or lost power? Are people hurt? Is there a fire? Is there a hull breach? Any pollution? The state of the crew—how many, any injuries, and are they still on board? I also need weather: wind speed, direction, sea state, visibility, tide, current. That changes the timing of everything. And get the draught, if you know it, plus the cargo distribution, if possible. Don't let them hang up until you have at least the first three: position, incident, and immediate danger.
Step Two: Your Marine Casualty Response Plan Starts in the First Hour
Once you've got the facts, you need to trigger your marine casualty response plan. That's not a binder on a shelf; it's an action sequence. I start a conference call with the owner, the P&I club, the coast guard, the harbor authority, the local agents, and, if there's a pollution risk, a qualified oil spill response organization. In Northern Europe, that's often OSRL. If the vessel needs a salvage tug, I'll call Svitzer or Boskalis, depending on where we are. The point is to get the right people on the line early, not to debate whose risk department gets a login. One digression: I've seen plans with emergency contact lists that are nine years old. Once, the number for the ship owner's office rang straight through to a pizzeria in Genoa. I'm not joking. Somebody had changed the phone number and nobody updated the binder. That's why I always tell junior salvors: make sure the plan in your pocket matches the plan in your head—and that's only true if you check it more than once a year.
Step Three: Decide Who's in Charge and Get the Chain of Command Clear
In the first hour, you need a single controlling mind. If you're the salvage master, you set the command structure. I don't mean rank; I mean a simple, loud, unambiguous division of labour. One person on the bridge stays in contact with the pilot or master. One person, maybe the chief officer, takes the log and communications. Another person handles the P&I club and the underwriters' inquiry. And there's someone who does nothing but watch the weather and the vessel's condition. Sounds simple, but in a noisy casualty everyone's a hero until someone's got to be the one who says 'no, we slow the engine now.' I've walked onto tugs where six people had different ideas about what to do with a towline. So I make it clear: my word is the one that matters for salvage decisions, and anyone under my command follows my orders. That might sound arrogant, but in a crisis, democracy is slower than the current. You can review everything later, after heads are banged and the bill is paid.
Step Four: A Checklist Beats Brain Power
I carry a laminated first-call checklist and a grease pencil. It fits in the leg pocket of my survival suit. The blocks are: Info, Notification, Resources, and Action. Info is who, where, what, and how bad. Notification is the list of calls to make—owners, P&I club, coastguard, flag state, the nearest salvage tug, and the ship's agents. Resources: do we have helicopters, tugs, pumping equipment, firefighting capacity? Action: what are we doing in the next fifteen minutes? That's not a grand project management system; it's a cheat sheet. Let me tell you a truth: the most dangerous moment in a marine casualty is five minutes after the first call, when everyone thinks they know what to do. A checklist keeps the thinking orderly. The aviation industry learned this decades ago. We, in maritime, are catching up. Look at the IMO's guidelines—they ask for a response plan that is practical, not theoretical. So put your own card together, brief your crew on it, and drill it. In the last hour, you're not creative; you're a machine following the plan. That's the way.
Step Five: Rehearse the Plan Before the Call Comes
Your marine casualty response plan isn't a plastic folder for the annual inspection. It's a war manual. The only way to make it work is to rehearse. I've been involved in full-scale drills where the 'casualty' is a fishing boat with a crewman overboard, and the owner's office couldn't fetch the emergency numbers until the third hour. That's pathetic, but it exists. So set aside an afternoon every quarter, get everyone in a room, run a scenario, and see where the plan breaks. Then fix it. And don't hide the plan inside the company server. Put hard copies in the wheelhouse, the office, and a sealed waterproof case on the boat. You can always burn the old one if you're paranoid. But you can't get online in the middle of a storm with a battery at 10 percent and the wifi fading. Real response is analogue.
Frequently Asked Questions
When should I activate my marine casualty response plan? The moment you phone someone. If the incident affects the safety of life, the ship, or the environment, you activate it. Don't wait for the formal emergency—act on the first call. What if I don't own the vessel? As an agent, what do I do? An agent is usually the first point of contact. Gather the same information—position, incident, cargo, injuries—and then pass it straight to the owner and the P&I club. Don't try to solve it on your own. Your job is to get the right experts on the line. Do I need to have a written plan? I've got a quick mind. Yes, and I'd say that with a smile. You can have a brilliant mind, but stress shortens your memory. A written plan that's current is a force multiplier. The International Safety Management Code requires it anyway. How long should the first call last? As long as it takes to get the essentials. I usually try to have the basic facts in five minutes. But if the vessel is in immediate danger, I'll stay on the line while the crew launches the life raft. There's no timer for a real emergency.