It just wasn't our day. First we had an engine failure on a MAUW take off just before CDP. Put the aircraft down and stopped just short of the fence.
Having changed to a different aircraft we got a FIRE 2 caption just as we entered cloud. Having initially dealt with that and closed down number 2, FIRE 1 illuminated. We asked for an immediate radar to land but the number 1 engine failed downwind. I carried out a downwind 180 degree IMC autorotation. Just as I was about to pop the floats the co-pilot got the Number 1 started again and we climbed back up to safety altitude, still in cloud. Unfortunately the compass had de-synchronised and the radios had failed. We dead-reckoned back to the overhead on the standby instruments and got one radio working. ATC told us that the cloud had just reached the ground and the ILS was now off line. At that stage the cockpit lighting failed. I reached down and found the emergency torch which had almost flat batteries. Holding it under my chin I allowed myself a quick look at the fuel gauges. It was now obvious we had a major fuel leak. Mental arithmetic calculations told me I would get one attempt at a straight in approach via the NDB to Rig Delta 7. ATC were unworkable again due to the radio interference caused by the approaching CB clouds. From memory I carried out a timed turn onto the required heading and attempted to tune the beacon but the needle was oscillating wildly as St. Elmo's fire danced along the wiper arms. The co-pilot began to complain of chest pains and collapsed in his seat. He had obviously had a major heart attack. I rapidly unstrapped, administered CPR and put him into the recovery position. The passengers, realising something was wrong as I laid him on the floor between the seats, began screaming. I quickly reassured them and having got back to my seat, I noticed the main gearbox oil pressure reducing below the minimum. Not to worry, the manufacturer had once test run a similar gearbox for 45 minutes with nil oil pressure. Heartened by this, I suddenly realised by checking my DR calculations against the clock that it was now time to complete the pre-landing checklist and begin the descent. Struggling across to the co-pilots vacant seat I rapidly pumped down the undercarriage which had failed to lower. I climbed back into my own seat and completed the approach on the stopwatch. My relief was possibly apparent as the rig came into view at 200 feet. I steeled myself for the single engine landing to the helipad. Setting up the perfect approach angle, there was a sudden yaw to the left and I realised the tail rotor drive shaft had failed. Bother. We wouldn't make the helideck after all. Still, shutting down the remaining engine was quite straight forward and again my spirits soared as the co-pilot began moaning loudly. He was alive! I deftly deployed the floats and flared to a perfect zero speed engine-off landing along the swell. Shortly after the rotor rpm slowed to a gentle standstill one of the passengers came forward to ask what time we would be on the rig. Smiling kindly, I took him by the arm and directed him to the waiting rescue launch pulling alongside. Lunch was smoked salmon. The co-pilot made a full recovery.
Later that day, just before my next departure the chief engineer advised me what had caused the minor challenges on the flight. The aircraft warranty had expired some hours before departure.
I hate sim rides with other instructors.