The one mistake that made the Brooklyn Bridge ship crash inevitable
Particularly galling for professional seafarers to watch
Tom Sharpe
19 May 2025 4:09pm BST
This weekend saw another tragic shipping accident in the US involving a bridge. The Mexican navy’s sail training vessel ARM (Armada de la República Mexicana) Cuauhtémoc was departing from South Street Seaport in Manhattan in the shadow of the iconic Brooklyn Bridge. This was a full ceremonial departure with the whole upper deck lit and many cadets aloft manning the yards. Minutes later the ship hit the bridge, causing masts to snap and, tragically, the deaths of two of the cadets. Many others were injured.
Inevitably, before these poor souls were even in hospital, accusations of this being an attack on the US were gathering traction. To be clear, this was not an attack – it was a seamanship incident of the sort that happens many times a year around the world, often going unreported unless captured on film – which this was, in gruesome detail. The fatalities, and the ease with which the disaster could have been prevented, make it particularly galling for past or present professional seafarers like me to watch.
The ship was initially berthed port side to, with her bows facing northwest. This is not uncommon for ships berthing at the South Street Seaport: bows photograph better than sterns, especially with the bridge in the background. So far, so normal. On sailing, there were three things that were of note, none of which on their own would be a concern, but cumulatively should have led to a change of plan.
The first is that both the wind and the tide were from the southwest, i.e. pushing the ship towards the bridge (which the ship’s masts were too tall to pass under). The wind was about 10 knots and the current probably not even a knot on top of that. Neither is extreme – nor even close – and actually a wind off the berth can be quite helpful in the initial stages, but both will make the ship hit the bridge if nothing else appears.
The second is the proximity to the bridge. The berth looks to be no more than 300 metres away. Even in modest wind and tide conditions there was not much room for manoeuvre, and I have no doubt that the investigation will look at whether or not this was a sensible time to sail in the first place.
Third was the decision to put cadets aloft. Again, manning the masts is perfectly normal for a ship of this type, and you want it to look as smart as possible as close as possible to the shore, but add this to issues one and two and alarm bells should have been ringing. Prioritising ceremonial over safety is not a good trap to fall into.
Fourth is the type of vessel itself. These ships’ focus on sailing means that their engines often lack power and their (single) propeller is designed to minimise drag, not for the best possible propulsion. Once your bow is into the wind and tide and you have two or three knots of speed through the water, you will have sufficient control of the bow to safely navigate the river. However, get stuck beam-on to the prevailing conditions and your options for powering out are really limited. This is also an old ship with all the reliability implications inherent in that. Did they test propulsion thoroughly before sailing? How often did they practise for machinery breakdowns such as the one that occurred, and so on?
Enter the tug. These come in all shapes and sizes and are a routine part of commercial moves the world over. This one was an older boat, built in 1967, and whilst it had plenty of power, its propulsion meant it lacked the agility of more modern tugs. In crude terms, it can only go forwards and backwards, whilst a modern tug can manoeuvre in all directions.
The final part of this equation, and the part that aggregates all the variables above, is the pilot. Pilots, aboard ship, are experienced mariners who are aboard specially to manoeuvre the ship in and out of the harbour where they work because of their local knowledge – of the winds, currents, rocks and shoals etc – and their special expertise on working with tugs in confined waters. With ship types that visit less often – i.e. a sail trainer like this, or a fighting warship – the pilot can be quite inexperienced in the way your ship handles, so you have to factor that in when they’re giving orders based on their greater experience of the local area. There are usually different types of pilot specialising in different areas and tasks. In New York you would normally expect to use a docking pilot who will then hand over to a river pilot for the transit out. In this case, it may have been a bay pilot, as the vessel was going to anchor and take on fuel next. This is still a highly experienced and expert mariner, but perhaps not as well versed with that jetty and that type of tug. Sal Mercogliano, a retired US Master Mariner who runs an excellent YouTube channel, has told me that when the US Coast Guard’s sail training vessel, the USCGC Eagle, berthed there, they used four tugs.
The real error in this case, given everything outlined above, is that the (single) tug wasn’t attached to the ship on sailing. It was clear from her manoeuvring before the incident that the plan was for the ship to leave the berth, come astern under its own propulsion until clear of the jetty, kick ahead to stop that, and with lots of port wheel applied, get the bows into wind and the ship underway. The tug was standing off the shoulder ready to assist with this turn by pushing the bows round. Most of the time, this would be fine. However, in this case, the ship’s astern propulsion clearly stuck on – a wake off the bow is visible as she hits the bridge that would be absent if she was just drifting. At this point the decision not to attach the tug goes, to my mind, from “expeditious” to “negligent”. Had the tug been made up on the starboard shoulder, or through the bows, it could easily have controlled the ship even with its astern propulsion stuck on. As it was, all the tug crew could do was look on with horror.
With the tug out of position, the ship would have had two options left: hope that the machinery defect is fixed in time for you to come ahead, or let go your anchors. Given the distances and type of anchors in this ship, it’s very unlikely they would work in time, but it’s a basic principle of seamanship that you at least try. In this case, it looks like one was let go as it was hitting the bridge. Too little, too late.
These occurrences are not uncommon. Last year, the container ship Dali hit the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Baltimore, killing six. Likewise, a barge hit the Lixinsha Bridge in China, killing five. A 2018 report for the World Association for Waterborne Transport Infrastructure catalogued 35 bridge collapses caused by boat strikes between 1960 and 2015, resulting in 342 fatalities. The problem is that when it comes to fixing this problem, there are too many agencies involved, none of whom are authorised to take ownership. Tugs cost money, this is true. But so do legal fees and insurance claims.
The investigation will look at the engineering state of the ship, her culture generally and the state of the various pilotage organisations. They will note that this was an old, underpowered ship using just one ageing and un-manoeuvrable tug. They will then add the prevailing conditions, the unusual berth and its proximity to the bridge, and the cadets in the rigging, and rightly decide that someone is going to be in very hot water for this. And to cap it all, it was tragically easy to avoid – just attach the damn tug.
Tom Sharpe served as a Royal Navy officer for 27 years, commanding four different ships during that time.
Particularly galling for professional seafarers to watch
Tom Sharpe
19 May 2025 4:09pm BST
This weekend saw another tragic shipping accident in the US involving a bridge. The Mexican navy’s sail training vessel ARM (Armada de la República Mexicana) Cuauhtémoc was departing from South Street Seaport in Manhattan in the shadow of the iconic Brooklyn Bridge. This was a full ceremonial departure with the whole upper deck lit and many cadets aloft manning the yards. Minutes later the ship hit the bridge, causing masts to snap and, tragically, the deaths of two of the cadets. Many others were injured.
Inevitably, before these poor souls were even in hospital, accusations of this being an attack on the US were gathering traction. To be clear, this was not an attack – it was a seamanship incident of the sort that happens many times a year around the world, often going unreported unless captured on film – which this was, in gruesome detail. The fatalities, and the ease with which the disaster could have been prevented, make it particularly galling for past or present professional seafarers like me to watch.
The ship was initially berthed port side to, with her bows facing northwest. This is not uncommon for ships berthing at the South Street Seaport: bows photograph better than sterns, especially with the bridge in the background. So far, so normal. On sailing, there were three things that were of note, none of which on their own would be a concern, but cumulatively should have led to a change of plan.
The first is that both the wind and the tide were from the southwest, i.e. pushing the ship towards the bridge (which the ship’s masts were too tall to pass under). The wind was about 10 knots and the current probably not even a knot on top of that. Neither is extreme – nor even close – and actually a wind off the berth can be quite helpful in the initial stages, but both will make the ship hit the bridge if nothing else appears.
The second is the proximity to the bridge. The berth looks to be no more than 300 metres away. Even in modest wind and tide conditions there was not much room for manoeuvre, and I have no doubt that the investigation will look at whether or not this was a sensible time to sail in the first place.
Third was the decision to put cadets aloft. Again, manning the masts is perfectly normal for a ship of this type, and you want it to look as smart as possible as close as possible to the shore, but add this to issues one and two and alarm bells should have been ringing. Prioritising ceremonial over safety is not a good trap to fall into.
Fourth is the type of vessel itself. These ships’ focus on sailing means that their engines often lack power and their (single) propeller is designed to minimise drag, not for the best possible propulsion. Once your bow is into the wind and tide and you have two or three knots of speed through the water, you will have sufficient control of the bow to safely navigate the river. However, get stuck beam-on to the prevailing conditions and your options for powering out are really limited. This is also an old ship with all the reliability implications inherent in that. Did they test propulsion thoroughly before sailing? How often did they practise for machinery breakdowns such as the one that occurred, and so on?
Enter the tug. These come in all shapes and sizes and are a routine part of commercial moves the world over. This one was an older boat, built in 1967, and whilst it had plenty of power, its propulsion meant it lacked the agility of more modern tugs. In crude terms, it can only go forwards and backwards, whilst a modern tug can manoeuvre in all directions.
The final part of this equation, and the part that aggregates all the variables above, is the pilot. Pilots, aboard ship, are experienced mariners who are aboard specially to manoeuvre the ship in and out of the harbour where they work because of their local knowledge – of the winds, currents, rocks and shoals etc – and their special expertise on working with tugs in confined waters. With ship types that visit less often – i.e. a sail trainer like this, or a fighting warship – the pilot can be quite inexperienced in the way your ship handles, so you have to factor that in when they’re giving orders based on their greater experience of the local area. There are usually different types of pilot specialising in different areas and tasks. In New York you would normally expect to use a docking pilot who will then hand over to a river pilot for the transit out. In this case, it may have been a bay pilot, as the vessel was going to anchor and take on fuel next. This is still a highly experienced and expert mariner, but perhaps not as well versed with that jetty and that type of tug. Sal Mercogliano, a retired US Master Mariner who runs an excellent YouTube channel, has told me that when the US Coast Guard’s sail training vessel, the USCGC Eagle, berthed there, they used four tugs.
The real error in this case, given everything outlined above, is that the (single) tug wasn’t attached to the ship on sailing. It was clear from her manoeuvring before the incident that the plan was for the ship to leave the berth, come astern under its own propulsion until clear of the jetty, kick ahead to stop that, and with lots of port wheel applied, get the bows into wind and the ship underway. The tug was standing off the shoulder ready to assist with this turn by pushing the bows round. Most of the time, this would be fine. However, in this case, the ship’s astern propulsion clearly stuck on – a wake off the bow is visible as she hits the bridge that would be absent if she was just drifting. At this point the decision not to attach the tug goes, to my mind, from “expeditious” to “negligent”. Had the tug been made up on the starboard shoulder, or through the bows, it could easily have controlled the ship even with its astern propulsion stuck on. As it was, all the tug crew could do was look on with horror.
With the tug out of position, the ship would have had two options left: hope that the machinery defect is fixed in time for you to come ahead, or let go your anchors. Given the distances and type of anchors in this ship, it’s very unlikely they would work in time, but it’s a basic principle of seamanship that you at least try. In this case, it looks like one was let go as it was hitting the bridge. Too little, too late.
These occurrences are not uncommon. Last year, the container ship Dali hit the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Baltimore, killing six. Likewise, a barge hit the Lixinsha Bridge in China, killing five. A 2018 report for the World Association for Waterborne Transport Infrastructure catalogued 35 bridge collapses caused by boat strikes between 1960 and 2015, resulting in 342 fatalities. The problem is that when it comes to fixing this problem, there are too many agencies involved, none of whom are authorised to take ownership. Tugs cost money, this is true. But so do legal fees and insurance claims.
The investigation will look at the engineering state of the ship, her culture generally and the state of the various pilotage organisations. They will note that this was an old, underpowered ship using just one ageing and un-manoeuvrable tug. They will then add the prevailing conditions, the unusual berth and its proximity to the bridge, and the cadets in the rigging, and rightly decide that someone is going to be in very hot water for this. And to cap it all, it was tragically easy to avoid – just attach the damn tug.
Tom Sharpe served as a Royal Navy officer for 27 years, commanding four different ships during that time.
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