And what country can preserve its liberties if their rulers are not warned from time to time that their people preserve the spirit of resistance? Let them take arms. The remedy is to set them right as to facts, pardon and pacify them. What signify a few lives lost in a century or two? The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.
Friday, January 10, 2025
They won't forget that trip, especially that guy sitting right up front
I was on a ferry like that once (the windows never caved in though) High speed job from Singapore to Indonesia. One second you're looking straight up at the sky, next straight down into a trough of green. Horrible. Sailors are nuts.
"Sailors are nuts" Yeah, I met a lot of them in my time. And the sea ain't the only place to find them either, rivers in America are full of crazies. Working a towboat out of Houston once, for a little pop minus mom establishment that no matter where I roamed I always found myself back at. I worked the biggest on the waterways, I worked the elite where the tugs all had President’s fleet painted on their houses. Still that little back woods seat of the pants outfit was my favorite. I started there, and I ended there.
So anyway, speaking of crazy, I got a story, might sound like I’m clapping myself on the back, but that is not really true. The real hero was never really recognized. A relief Captain named David Arsenault, Big Dave to the crew. Yeah, I’m naming him, he deserves the recognition whether he lives or not.
He was a giant 350 pound likeable dude with a vague Louisiana accent, ( as opposed to the heavy Cajun you run into a lot on the tugs), that everyone just called skipper. ‘Big Dave’ took over from our former Captain Eric, ( who was almost as young as I was at the time) left the water chasing his ever elusive sweetheart whose dalliances while he was on board where a constant source of distraction.
I was the mate, not yet a Tankerman, and with only 5 months or less experience under my belt, when the incident I am about to relay happened.
We were working tramp cargo out of Houston to and from the river. (Towboaters know ‘The River’ is always mighty Mississippi ). What that means is you have an 800 hp twin engine tug pushing a thousand feet of tow, rather like a water spider pushing a string of bananas. That’s five barges to the uninitiated. Loads set you down in the current, empties catch the wind. Normally you’d have three loads and two empties on the head, all going to different destinations.
Anyway locking out onto the River from Industrial locks this one time with a two combination I can’t really remember, though I think we only had a few empties, maybe. Either way the wind and current was too strong for us and we were immediately being shoved backwards down river.
Anybody that ever worked the river will tell you just how bad this is. The Mississippi is several hundred feet deep here and over a mile wide. No power on earth is stronger than water, and ‘round New Orleans there is a whole damn lot of it rushing down bound for the ocean. You can watch telephone poles that came down in the spring flood, push under water and pop up again UP stream! It is so powerful they tell you to where a life vest on the barges only so they can identify the body should you fall in.
Anyway, Big Dave sees our stern awash, and our vessel starting to heel over to port, looks at me and very quietly says, “wake up the crew, get them on the barge.” That’s it. Nothing else. I looked at him for a second and thought, okay and then what three hundred pound man is going to learn to fly. No Big Dave Arsenault is going to keep it hooked up and hard over till the crew escapes and then Big Dave knows in his heart, he is going to die. Because when the boat heels far enough the starboard push wire will snap and the port cables will roll us over.
I turned, ran down the port side woke the pilot and the off duty deck and told them the Captain’s orders, holding the door as they ran. I was about to follow when something hit me.
A conversation between David Gantt (yeah gonna name him to, it was his company I am talking about) and our old Captain. He said the port engineer had put shims ( washers) in to throttle back the engines in order to save fuel. He did not like it and said it would be fixed in port, but as it stood the port engine was turning 1200 rpm and the starboard only 800. Anyway, not gonna super hero this up, but I thought I ain’t letting Big Dave take the last swim over this shit. I ran down the port side, into the engine room and hopped on top of the starboard V12-71 jammed a screw driver into the throttle assembly and pulled down with all my might.
I could see nothing but water out the starboard engine room door and nothing but sky out of the port one, but slowly, surely the starboard engine started to dig in. As we began to stop the down bound push the Fremont ( that was my tug and only the second one I worked at that point the M/V Fremont GMS), started righting itself, we started the long slog back up stream.
We dropped down bound in ten minutes of sheer terror, it took us an hour and a half to get back to where we started. And a yet another twenty minutes till we could catch a line and breathe a sigh of relief.
When the story got told, I got a few attaboys, in as much as anyone ever talked about it all. But Dave? I never heard a word about what he did, not one.
He was the real hero of the story, the only chance he had to get off that tug was if he ran the minute he realized the danger. Instead he stood his watch, staring death in the face as he held the Fremont together in one of its most dire moments.
Years later another Captain would skipper her as she collided with an outbound freighter in the Houston ship channel, but Dave was long gone by then. I was right behind her though on the Gunnison, and even though I don’t the skipper was in the wrong I could not help thinking if it would have been different if Big Dave had been at the wheel.
So yeah, a lot of Sailors are crazy…..but they are my kind of crazy, and always will be!
dumbass seen it comin, shoulda been layin rubba
ReplyDeleteThey all may drown, but at least they had their face diapers on
ReplyDeleteI was on a ferry like that once (the windows never caved in though) High speed job from Singapore to Indonesia. One second you're looking straight up at the sky, next straight down into a trough of green. Horrible. Sailors are nuts.
ReplyDelete"Sailors are nuts"
DeleteYeah, I met a lot of them in my time.
And the sea ain't the only place to find them either, rivers in America are full of crazies.
Working a towboat out of Houston once, for a little pop minus mom establishment that no matter where I roamed I always found myself back at. I worked the biggest on the waterways, I worked the elite where the tugs all had President’s fleet painted on their houses. Still that little back woods seat of the pants outfit was my favorite. I started there, and I ended there.
So anyway, speaking of crazy, I got a story, might sound like I’m clapping myself on the back, but that is not really true. The real hero was never really recognized. A relief Captain named David Arsenault, Big Dave to the crew. Yeah, I’m naming him, he deserves the recognition whether he lives or not.
He was a giant 350 pound likeable dude with a vague Louisiana accent, ( as opposed to the heavy Cajun you run into a lot on the tugs), that everyone just called skipper. ‘Big Dave’ took over from our former Captain Eric, ( who was almost as young as I was at the time) left the water chasing his ever elusive sweetheart whose dalliances while he was on board where a constant source of distraction.
I was the mate, not yet a Tankerman, and with only 5 months or less experience under my belt, when the incident I am about to relay happened.
We were working tramp cargo out of Houston to and from the river. (Towboaters know ‘The River’ is always mighty Mississippi ). What that means is you have an 800 hp twin engine tug pushing a thousand feet of tow, rather like a water spider pushing a string of bananas. That’s five barges to the uninitiated. Loads set you down in the current, empties catch the wind. Normally you’d have three loads and two empties on the head, all going to different destinations.
Part 2
DeleteAnyway locking out onto the River from Industrial locks this one time with a two combination I can’t really remember, though I think we only had a few empties, maybe. Either way the wind and current was too strong for us and we were immediately being shoved backwards down river.
Anybody that ever worked the river will tell you just how bad this is. The Mississippi is several hundred feet deep here and over a mile wide. No power on earth is stronger than water, and ‘round New Orleans there is a whole damn lot of it rushing down bound for the ocean. You can watch telephone poles that came down in the spring flood, push under water and pop up again UP stream! It is so powerful they tell you to where a life vest on the barges only so they can identify the body should you fall in.
Anyway, Big Dave sees our stern awash, and our vessel starting to heel over to port, looks at me and very quietly says, “wake up the crew, get them on the barge.” That’s it. Nothing else. I looked at him for a second and thought, okay and then what three hundred pound man is going to learn to fly. No Big Dave Arsenault is going to keep it hooked up and hard over till the crew escapes and then Big Dave knows in his heart, he is going to die. Because when the boat heels far enough the starboard push wire will snap and the port cables will roll us over.
I turned, ran down the port side woke the pilot and the off duty deck and told them the Captain’s orders, holding the door as they ran. I was about to follow when something hit me.
A conversation between David Gantt (yeah gonna name him to, it was his company I am talking about) and our old Captain. He said the port engineer had put shims ( washers) in to throttle back the engines in order to save fuel. He did not like it and said it would be fixed in port, but as it stood the port engine was turning 1200 rpm and the starboard only 800.
Anyway, not gonna super hero this up, but I thought I ain’t letting Big Dave take the last swim over this shit. I ran down the port side, into the engine room and hopped on top of the starboard V12-71 jammed a screw driver into the throttle assembly and pulled down with all my might.
I could see nothing but water out the starboard engine room door and nothing but sky out of the port one, but slowly, surely the starboard engine started to dig in. As we began to stop the down bound push the Fremont ( that was my tug and only the second one I worked at that point the M/V Fremont GMS), started righting itself, we started the long slog back up stream.
We dropped down bound in ten minutes of sheer terror, it took us an hour and a half to get back to where we started. And a yet another twenty minutes till we could catch a line and breathe a sigh of relief.
When the story got told, I got a few attaboys, in as much as anyone ever talked about it all. But Dave? I never heard a word about what he did, not one.
He was the real hero of the story, the only chance he had to get off that tug was if he ran the minute he realized the danger. Instead he stood his watch, staring death in the face as he held the Fremont together in one of its most dire moments.
Years later another Captain would skipper her as she collided with an outbound freighter in the Houston ship channel, but Dave was long gone by then. I was right behind her though on the Gunnison, and even though I don’t the skipper was in the wrong I could not help thinking if it would have been different if Big Dave had been at the wheel.
So yeah, a lot of Sailors are crazy…..but they are my kind of crazy, and always will be!
Wow, great story. Thanks for telling us.
DeleteRipping great yarn Dude
Delete