It was supposed to be a routine flight, a hop across the sea, transporting a group of excited passengers to the sun-drenched shores of Madeira.

The promise of warm sands and balmy breezes filled the air as holidaymakers boarded the Aquila Airways flying boat, Hungerford, their hearts brimming with anticipation for a much-needed escape from the dreary January chill of 1953.

The hefty 26-ton aircraft, a behemoth of the skies, stood poised on Southampton Water, a symbol of adventure and freedom.

But within minutes, the carefree atmosphere aboard the Hungerford would morph into something far more sinister, transforming the routine journey into one of the most terrifying experiences imaginable.

What was meant to be a flight of fancy would quickly become a nightmare etched forever in the memories of the twenty-six passengers and five crew members.

At 2am, under the cloak of a pitch-black January night, the Hungerford began its fateful takeoff.

The powerful engines roared, sending vibrations through the cabin as the flying boat surged forward, gathering speed along the designated flare path.

Suddenly, a sickening crunch echoed through the air. The port float - a crucial component for maintaining balance during takeoff - seemed to inexplicably collapse.

The once-majestic aircraft lurched violently, the port wing dipping sharply downwards, digging into Southampton Water with a terrifying splash.

The Hungerford heeled over dramatically, coming to a jarring, abrupt halt, leaving its occupants in a state of utter shock and disbelief.

Panic erupted within the cabin. Screams pierced the air, mingling with the cacophony of groaning metal and rushing water.

Through the chaos, four courageous women passengers bravely volunteered to undertake a perilous task.

They would climb out onto the slippery, exposed wing, using their weight to counterbalance the sinking aircraft, a desperate attempt to buy precious time for rescue.

With hearts pounding in their chests, the women clambered out of the stricken plane and onto the treacherous wing.

Alone in their precarious positions, buffeted by the chilling night wind and the spray of the churning water, they clung on for dear life.

For nearly half an hour, these heroines of the night maintained their vigil, their courage a beacon of hope in the face of imminent disaster.

Meanwhile, rescue boats, alerted to the unfolding tragedy, sped towards the scene, their searchlights slicing through the darkness, illuminating the stricken aircraft and the brave women clinging to its wing.

An airways launch finally reached the Hungerford, and in the glare of the fireboats' searchlights, a dramatic rescue operation commenced.

One by one, the terrified passengers were helped aboard the launch, their faces etched with relief and gratitude.

With all passengers safely evacuated, the focus shifted to the crippled flying boat.

The partly submerged aircraft was slowly towed towards the safety of Calshot RAF station.

However, fate had one final, cruel twist in store.

During the arduous journey, the Hungerford, battered and weakened, turned turtle, its once-proud form disappearing beneath the murky waters, finally sinking into the muddy depths between Fawley Pier and the RAF station.

The four women who had so heroically ventured onto the wing, their ordeal far from over, were later transferred to the sanctuary of the Polygon Hotel in Southampton.

There, wrapped in warm blankets and offered comforting drinks, they were finally given a chance to recover from the harrowing events they had endured.

When interviewed by the Echo, the women, safe but shaken, recounted their dramatic experiences.

Sheila Bradshaw, a 21-year-old model from Manchester, her friend Patsy Brown, a singer also from Manchester, and their mothers, were all safely tucked up in the hotel beds, the memory of the ordeal still fresh in their minds.

"There was a terrifying impact," Miss Bradshaw recalled, her voice trembling slightly, "and we ran through the cabins and climbed a ladder to get on to the wing. It was the most terrifying moment of my life."

Miss Brown, her eyes reflecting the horror of the night, added, "We took off our shoes and clambered up the wing and stayed there for nearly half an hour."

The four women who risked their lives to save others that night became accidental heroines, their names forever linked to the dramatic events that unfolded on that cold January night in 1953.