Richard James Dunbar Harris SC OAM (known as “Harry” to pretty much everyone except his dad, who called him Bert) is prepared to admit that if there was one time in his life when he was somewhat brave – at least for a few hours – it was this:
“I was 15, and me and a mate, Sam, were on an open-water diving course,” Harry says. “We were in the Gulf of St Vincent, five or six kilometres off the South Australian coast with our instructor and two other students. It was around 5pm when it suddenly got very rough. We went down one wave, smashed into the back of the next and the boat flipped over, tipping us all into the ocean.
“We managed to right it, but the boat was swamped and the engine wouldn’t start. From then on, we pretty much sat in this boat that was full of cold water for the rest of the night. Every now and again we’d hit another massive wave, the boat would throw us out and we’d have to scramble in again. It was a horrendous night. Sam and I tried to crack jokes and keep morale up because the two other students seemed very frightened – one of them started praying. I remember thinking, ‘We’re actually being quite heroic here,’ but by about two in the morning, my courage had deserted me.
How frightened were you?
I don’t remember fear being the emotion. It was more a sense of, ‘When will this misery ever end?’ And the thought that we might not actually make it. The boat’s floorboards started to pop up and the polystyrene flotation was drifting away, so the boat was actually sinking, and I realised that, even with
