We have been alone on the trail until now, but no longer. There is a man inspecting the wreck. He stands ankle-deep in the water. We were warned at the visitors’ centre not to clamber over the wreck or even venture too close. There is submerged wreckage everywhere, and it is heavily corroded. By getting too close you are risking injury, tetanus, and other undesirable consequences.

If I am dressed inappropriately, this man is entirely out of place. He wears long khaki trousers with a deep crease ironed into the front. His jacket is navy blue and fitted tightly at the waist. It reaches almost to mid-thigh, with brass buttons down the front. The lapels are wide and decorated with various pins. This makes him sound rather neat and point-device, but he is anything but.

The cuffs of his trousers are sodden and frayed. He must have been wearing boots, but now he is barefoot. One of the buttons on his jacket is missing and another is hanging by a thread. His hair is over-long and hangs into his eyes. It is his eyes that are especially arresting, because they are aflame with the light of madness.

I have been longing to inspect the wreck, but now I want to hurry past and get away from this man.

It is too late. He has seen us. He strides up the beach towards us. I stand still in dismay, but the others keep walking towards the water’s edge.

“It was murder, you know,” he says in a loud American voice. “Sabotage. The compass was out by 37˚. We were in heavy fog and there were U-boats all around. We hugged the coast as closely as we dared.”

“Why?” I ask. “Why sail so close to land when you couldn’t see two feet in front of your face? Was that not reckless?”

“It was our practice in bad weather, especially in war time, when the German submarines patrolled these waters constantly, looking to pick off Liberty ships like ours.”

“You must have known you were terribly close to the rocks.”

“I tell you I didn’t!” he thunders. “I thought we were near Robben Island. The compass was out by 37˚. But what else would you expect from a ship that was built by women?”

“The Thomas T. Tucker was built by women?”

“Most of the Liberty ships were. She was laid down by the Houston Shipbuilding Corporation in June of 1942. The men had all gone to war, so women were building the ships. And you see the result. She was on her maiden voyage from New Orleans to Suez when she ran aground here.”

“You were the captain. You were disoriented and too close to shore. You ran her onto the rocks.”