This is written in memory of late Chief Engineer Mr. Fernando Quaresma, man who took me under his wings on my arrival, has given me hard time, succeeded to force me to learn English in less than three months, thought me about great American Democracy when tired, thought me professionally, and give me opportunity to work for him and with him in best years of American Tuna fishing. I hope he is happy on eternal fishing grounds. If he looks down from havens: all successes in my life are thanks to you Fernando and I can’t thank you enough. Till we met again: God bless you and rest in peace, you have departed too soon.
Chief Engineers Michael Datin and Andy White were young and full of energy, performing impossible tasks under stress, putting up often with difficult types. These great engineers didn’t know for word Cant do, impossible and such. They welded crack ships in middle of Ocean in hold them together till shipyard, overhauled CATs in rolling seas. I guess we were all on our own way crazy, difficult but always individualistic, human and fisherman...
Golden Years of American tuna fishing. Over one hundred fifty large tuna seiners plow Great Ocean in search of Big Eye, Skip Jack, Albacore or Yellow Fin. Portugese, Spaniards, Italians and Croatians tended to do what they were doing before arrival in States. Lack of English concentrate them in San Pedro, San Diego and community grows. At first fishing from small boats by the coast of California, as demand grows, larger and sophisticated vessels were build. Many innovations come from necessity of fishing as hard back breaking labor. Wages were earned on century old system: no fish no money. On beginning it was near coastal fishing. With years tuna seiners become Ocean going vessels in size from 1000 t to over two thousand tons of frozen fish. Nets grown from few yards in length and depth to mile long and 300 fathoms deep. From simple surface observations, come sophisticated electronics, weather faxes, satellites, sonar’s and sounders, fish finders. Heavy cotton nets become nylon, pulling net by hand and sling become impossible and Mr. Puretich single handedly build biggest fishing innovation of all time Power block .Instead of making one set a day and working hard, now was possible to make many sets in short period of time a lot more easy. With size of vessels and distance from shore style changed. Being home often was not an option no more, and development of ammonia refrigeration allowed them to stay out month at the time. Whole industry was build around, shipyards such as Tacoma or San Diego. Paint industry, net, power blocks and all other needed services in the glory days feed over two million people directly or indirectly involved in tuna fishing. Fishing Captains such as Sousas, Zuanich, Dundov, Blaslov and many others still make deals on worth of the face or their word. Papers weren’t necessary. Time lines were respected and no need for fancy lawyers, banks and such existed- yet. But time was changing. Corporate Industry has set sights on this individualist Industry. Small ship owners have not being strong enough for high seas fishing united and jointly build vessels and become first fishing corporations. Rest is history. This history comes to slow and painful death when Magnuson act was brought forward. To escape grips and troubles of porpoise fishing, new fishing grounds were needed and first exploratory ships were send in South West Pacific. No body knew then about El Nino and El Nina, jet streams, termoclines and temperature of the Ocean relationship with fish. All what was known, someplace West must be better, and they went for it. No chards of this areas existed. Even today we sail with chards last time corrected in 1886 or such. They found many reefs. Discovered to equipment and nets doesn’t work in this they call them Wild waters.
This is stories, in memory of Old timers forced on Great Ocean by need to survive, feed family or plainly it was no other way. Between them many died, many were lost at sea, others lost limbs or sanity as Skipper whom seen son eaten by sharks while saving dolphins from the net. Others succeeded and used bonanza for short time to better them selves.
Many great Navigators, Skippers, Chief Engineers rose through ranks. They were good at what they did, and they become THE BEST. Returning in ports of call they reported new reefs, under sea mounts where newer was one. They learn weather patterns and cycles, seen giant squids, Islands being born and Islands washed away, people of the Islands so innocent to for one ice cream given to the child will bring in return wheel barrels of fruits, fish, lobsters, piglets and anything else they have. That was the time when Fishermen was still word meaning collectively: strong, respectable, innovative, resourceful, knowledgeable, honorable, honest, word worth gold, in short THE FISHERMAN.
Others were telling the kids:”Go become fisherman, it’s a good job, hard but good money, you’ll make decent living”. These times are over now. Few graceful vessels remain at seas. Most fishermen were forced in other industries if lucky; to retire if old enough, but all miss adrenalin runs of great school fishing on foomer.
Now on instead of American flag on high seas one can se Korean, Japanese, Taiwanese and more and more , flag of People’s Redpublic of China, while we were picking just grown ups , canned tuna was what label said, and juveniles have time to grow and mature. Big Eye of 60 lbs plus, Yellow Fin same or bigger, Skip Jack’s at over twenty five pounds were considered baby. They today finish in the nets of low pay, profit run industry, that doesn’t care about size, just about tonnage.
Now instead of USA nautical chards being updated by fishermen, our submarines run underwater in the mountains, surface ships get grounded where reefs grow to close to surface, no body here monitor great expanses of Pacific.
Great community of American fishermen goes the way of extinction, and if one day US NAVY need intimate knowledge of this rarely sailed areas I am afraid no body will be left to tell about, knowledge gathered through thirty years will be lost due changes in climate, human population, washout of low Pacific Island such as FSM, Tuvalu and soon many others. This is world far away of MODERN civilization, far from every day life, but its real, oh I am so sorry WAS real.
May be is for good, to Old timers and Islands disappearing together, they grow up together, get to know each other, many story was told about Southern Seas in fishermen taverns and bars, and WHEN Islands disappear they will just follow Tuna , Skip Jack, FSM, Tuvalu, Tinian.
This is leading us to whole new situation in the world, ecological refugees from Pacific, they already coming; their numbers will only increase with time, what they will not have is home, land, culture, tradition, and great healthy way of life
Old timers dying out in all too increasing numbers, what’s really killing them is loss of freedom, loss of what you do and you are best in, loss of great way of life.
Oh how I wish to get on wide Tropical Pacific just one more time before I go! Just one more sunset with clear sky, stars so close to one can pluck them one by one, silver surface of Moon reflection, whale breeching, porpoises playing, oh how I wish to……
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Storm
Late November. American Samoa, Pago Pago - tuna clipper Capital of the world, deep, safe port inside caldera of extinguished volcano. Numerous ships on the docks on commercial side and three on cannery’s docks. Relentless rattle of the unloading, fork lifts mix with sweet sounds of Samoan music. Odor of decaying fish blood, brown mud washed in the bay. After years of it, bay water become brown and stinky also, but that was life giving industry on the southernmost part of USA. It didn’t pay much but was a pay.
Cannery workers in white overcoats work on lines producing tuna cans in millions. Samoan unloaders hired by Agents of Blue Angel were on the ships unloading frozen fish. In lava-lavas native dress –skirt like, some wearing zories, others in busted up rubber boots and most of them barefoot. Most of new comers were awestruck seeing this people barefoot on the frozen fish that has temperature of minus thirteen degrees Celsius.
After becoming familiar with Samoa they understand to on Samoa things were different than in rest of World. Samoan People were huge race, most common sizes of T shits were in 4 to 6 XL, shorts , shoes were in sizes that in rest of the world will be for Reply’s “ Believed or not”, 14, 16 and in one store 24 EEEE (extra wide). Samoans were people of great strength, greater past and sweet music.
On the Commercial port side six clippers were on the dock three along side, as Port was small. First on the dock were loading supply, while others did last moment repairs or improvements. This was time before weather satellite communications, weather fax was luxury and Coast Guard radio was God given for short time and not that accurate. Most of sailors didn’t bother with predictions on Pacific. What’s to come will come and nothing one can do about.
On net yard, crew’s were mending the nets. Over Rainmaker peak , eternal clouds were hanging engulfing whole PagoPago in some kind of twilight, raining was common and if didn’t rain for hour or two , locals were already talking how weather is spoiled. Otherwise Pago was place where time seems to have stopped about sixty years ago in modern life. Underneath this westernized surface was still patriarchal society . Chiefs of villages were judges, and jury for Samoans. Only if conflicts were not solved by them culprits were sent to Police. If one was to conduct business in Samoa, his best bet was to visit chiefs, or Ultimate chief and ask for permission to do what ewer his business was. Once permission was given , word was spread and no difficulties were allowed. But if one didn’t do that, after a while he will found A. Samoa almost impossible to conduct business. Raising voice in conducting business was bad, threatening one Samoan was threatening all of them and some time strangers was beaten in the pulp. But if stranger follow the rules, visit the chief/s, respected local custom, treated people well, it was no limit and distance where Samoan will go to help you.
Our ship has just get paid, crew were in post office- last call home, Skippers were in Sadie Thompson restaurant and bar, some crew finished in Evalani’s bar, while singles and married hided in Rainmaker hotel rooms, making best of the time left before departure.
Departure was at five after noon, as after sunset was no way to pilot will take you out. Hatches secured, salt stocked and covered with plastic just in case. Deck hatches tightened down, so water from holds will not splash all over wet deck. Southern Pacific didn’t have mercy for people without respect. In heart beat Pacific will put arrogant soul on right place. Helicopter lashed down. Drums with oil discharged in holding tanks, last filters checks done, skiff lashed down, speed boat lashed down, radio buoys tested .
Million and one thing to do before lines were thrown of the dock. Deck boss hang bag with garlic on the bow- just in case to bad luck and sea witches attack. Cofiero brought two bags of salt to the stern deck. When she take of the dock tradition was to throw the salt on the dock, and people on the dock, for good luck, begging divine protection, for good weather, smooth sailing, and any other thousand and one reason one land critter, spending life on the rolling deck, being at sea months at the time, listening same story over and over again, from same faces. People knew better how their room mate sound when sleep than their spouses. This was close knitted society. Some landlubbers called us prisoners of our free will, others crazy, third did not understand how normal human being can spend days, weeks, months and years fishing. This was out of whack for majority. Ocean was newer place for majority. That was place for chosen few, few that chose to live, navigate and make living plowing blue endless surface.
Main engines were running, bow thruster idling, hydraulics whining, last strugglers were boarding. Navigator wife standing on the dock and listen for last words from husband that she will not see for weeks or months, Skipper on the winch controls with winch man, crew on the bow and stern stand by.
Five o clock.
“Let go the bow”
“Let go bow spring” Bow thruster shudder and start pushing ship away from dock.
”Let go stern spring” bow thruster increases power, and ships bow slowly turn to starboard.
“Let go stern line, rudder full to port” now bow and stern leaving dock. Salt was open and handful thrown on those remaining on the dock, on dock it self. Ships dog excited barking and running from bridge to hello deck, barking farewell to his Samoan cousins.
“Slow ahead”
“By, by”,” see you next time”, “be good and tell the kids to study”, ”will be back shortly”, “ see you in Guam” ,”By , by”
Last waves, bow was already turned toward mouth of Pago Pago harbor. Soon influence of the open ocean was felt. She start to pitch, roll, and bow under thrust of both engines plowing deeper in the open waters, while stern vibrated above variable stein less still propeller.
Skipper and navigator disappear in the bridge. Deck boss and crew stored lines in bow lazaret and on the starboard side of the house under the windows of the Skipper living quarters. Most of the jobs were done, small corrections here and there. Done. Crew gathered in the galley. Dinner was served and one by one people retired in cabins for some sleep before watch.
Morning comes all too early, but all knew to fishing grounds were still two days far away. Few shows up for breakfast, more for lunch, and all for dinner. Unloading was from seven in the morning, but crew prepped all since six o clock, and after unloading, it was happy time in Evalani’s or Sadi’s. Not much was left for sleep. Now, majority try to catch up between watch in engine room or on the bridge.
One more welcome night pass by. Sailing all time North, at economy speed, it will take at least three days to reach south Papua New Guinea, and fishing grounds. By direction of the ship old-timers were estimating position and future .
Day was hot, barometer was hectic. Navigator try to reach Australia on radio, but static was giving difficulties’ in communications.
“Newer before have seen barometer going crazy as today”
“Look on it and record changes, something is cooking around us”-Skipper says.
“Night watch, wake me up if the sea change’s I don’t liked” Navigator was spooked by something.
Chief engineer come to the bridge, he has same fillings, something in their watery world wasn’t right. Two of them has over eighty years on sea, and gut feeling was telling them to some danger was coming.
“Skipper, lets close water tight doors tonight, what do you say?”
“OK”, skipper knew better than argue.
He called deck boss to the bridge.
“Listen, will close all water tight doors, something is coming, barometer falling for hours now, wind changing directions, seas growing. Make sure to tell the cook and rest of the crew to tighten and secure all loose things. Remove bottles from tables. I think we are in for a devil’s dance.”
Chief engineer, assistant and watch men did same thing in engine. Bow hutch was battened down, bow storage space watertight door, dogged, deck hutch for bow thruster tightened.
On the deck, skiff man and rest of the crew tightened cable over the skiff. It was their substitute for life boat, It was unthinkable to waves wash it away. Some crew members pulled life jackets and inspected them. Others making fun of them followed suit. After years at Pacific most of them developed kind of
Sixth sense to trust gut feeling. Gut feeling is something eternal; always kick in when danger comes around. Cook pulled one life jacket made specially for the ship’s dog and have it handy. All went to sleep.
Tomorrow morning wasn’t better than night. Seas were white crested and confused. Barometer was still falling. To walk one must outreach by hands, and synchronize steps with motion of the ship. Cook didn’t cook anything. He prepared lots of sandwiches and crackers. Coffee maker was secured and empty. Bow was some time climbing up and up, and than falling down with big splash.
Crew was tending to regular duties; it was not much joking or messing around as when is situation normal, some heavy burden, invisible but there, hanging above them as Damocles sword. House was designed without windows, and was not much information’s from outside about conditions of sea. Now and then howling of the wind in riggings will come down through still structure. Hull was strong and they have engine room amid ship. This was best in this situation as point of gravity was deep down. All fish holds were full to the hutches to prevent liquid roll. Stabilizer or Flume tank in stern was filled to the optimum for best performance. Main boom was lowered down yesterday and lashed over the net and with double, single and rigging lay securely. Both cargo booms were down, also lashed and rigging tightened. Jocker’s were used to additionally reinforce booms.
Day was slow, but sea wasn’t to give up. More and more height of the seas was increasing. Sometime ship will sail up the wave for a long time. On the top of the crest will shudder for a moment, and than slide down in the through with increased speed. Once in the through she will slow down and try to fight her way up the next wave. All engineers and watch were dogged in engine room and stand by for any eventuality. Nights come, bilges were filling up through openings around the stacks, and water was slowly increasing level. To prevent sloshing, pumps were running as needed. In pipe alley bilges were dry, and bottom tanks were measured. Fuel purifier in service sucked fuel from bottom tanks and deposited in wing tanks, they started second purifier and set it up so it can suck fuel from wing tanks and re-purified.
Both twelve cylinder EMD’s were running smoothly. Hour after hour, ship was cutting seas, speed slowed down considerably, it was hard, hard but not alarming. They have been through similar before. Some went in the bed and try to rest; others were on the bridge listening to the radio Australia.
“Attention all mariners, attention all mariners, large tropical depression formed in position North of American Samoa has developed in fully blown typhoon. It is estimated to wind speeds were between seventy and ninety miles, with gusts of over one hundred miles. Special announcement for vessels at sea, watch out for rough seas. It is inspected to wave height will increase to forty feet; watch out for pattern in waves as rough waves might be inspected. Tomorrow is inspected further wind strength increase and accordingly wave action and height.”
Navigator switch station and found Papua New Guinea New Ireland missionary station. Missionary’s transmitted prayer for all sailors and people on the islands on the path of nature wrath. Skipper and Navigator look at each other.
“Don’t look good”
“Nope, it does not”
“We are in and just have to sail through. That’s all we can do. We don’t know how far and wide this is, and now is no way of returning”
Day was getting old, wind and waves growing, fears of unknown – unspoken. Skipper get on the PA and
Announced:
“Attention, we are in to get it, she is strong and build to last, we are in typhoon and Australians called it biggest in last few years. Make sure you got your money and documents in water tight bags and with you at all times. I don’t say will needed but better be ready than sorry”
Night was worst than day. Strong halogen lights on the bow were shining at hungry attacking seas. Navigator after a while decided to its better to run without them. She will sail smooth for a while and then start to climb. Five, ten degrees, fifteen degrees bow will go up and up, weight now on at the stern put big burden on propeller and navigator increases throttle and se us over. Once on the top of the crest, propeller will find it self in the air, engines will speed up and navigator then reduced speed to dead slows. Precariously hanging in balance for a moment, bow tilted downwards, prop hit the water and engines speed up by shear speed of surfing down in to the through. People in galley were trying to estimate height of the wave by time of climb and surf down, but it was just impossible. Some start to pray:
“Our father …………………………….
Dog that was never allowed access in the galley has his life jacket, curled on the floor and was squeaking, and from time to time he will get somebody legs and leak it. We newer knew to dogs can make tears, but terrified ship dog was crying and finally pee under himself.
All that was bad omen for people in galley, but there they are and have no place to go. Howling of the wind further increased, height of the seas become monstrous.
In one moment she run down the through, wave was so enormous to when she reached lowest in the through, didn’t have space and time to start to climb. Wave collapsed over her.
In the engine room men were with lanyards and belts, at all four crawling around equipment do what needed to do. Having engines running was life or death situation.
Submerged vessel start eating air from its own innards, hard working engines were rapidly sucking life giving oxygen from all parts of the vessel. Ears start to pop and hurt, engines suffocating for lack of air.
Green water running in the engine room through openings us newer knew we have.
Hull under enormous weight of water start to groan and moan, for a moment she stopped as in midair, it was as if she wants to decide if she wants to continue or to give up. And than with high speed she shoots to the surface, and start to fight her way up the next wave. Engineer’s ears popped up again, fresh air was streaming in the engine room. Chief and his crew all at once start to change one of fuel filters on duplex Racors we have installed recently. They were designed just for situations like this when one is forced to change filters and can’t shoot engine down. Same thing was with oil filters. One of the guys was in the stern rudder compartment making sure it’s enough oil in bearing system and hydraulics runs properly.
“Chief, I must tighten stern shaft packing it start to leak”
“Ok, make sure to you tighten across and evenly, don’t over-tight, as it can burn, Make sure you don’t get wrapped around the shaft”
“Chief bilge pump loosing suction, suction strainer is clogged up”
Assistant crawled to port side and with help of other engine man open deck plate under which were suction strainer. Black bilge water was sloshing around following motion of the vessel. Only way to clean large strainer was to get down under deck and shut valves close, clean strainer basket , and than re start the pump. Bilges were increasing with water from bow thruster and stern tubes.
“Pass me 15/16”
“Hold the deck plate, lashed with some rope”
“Pull basket up, pull, it’s heavy and full of garbage”
Chief come around and lend the hand, helping drag the strainer basket to the waste drum. After cleaning they restored order and bilge pump was happily dumping bilges over the side.
“I swear to God almighty, it is last time I have to deal with bilges in the storm. You bastards will clean this bilges until I can eat my dinner from. From tools, rags, sockets we found everything down there. Oh God please spare me and this collection of types, and I promise you I will have cleanest bilges in the world.” Chief engineer was pissed off.
Fighting seas she submerged numerous times through the night. Now was two days in this maelstrom. It was as somebody has thrown them in wash machine and tumble dryer.
Morning come. Wave hit the bow. From the bridge comes call to crew in the galley;
“Get me the plywood on the bridge and 2x4’s I need plywood and 2x4”
Crew scrambled, and from wet deck pulls pieces of ply wood to the bridge. Green water was running down the stairs from the bridge. Navigator bloodied face was white in fear; Skipper standing besides him didn’t pass any better. Crew batten improvised covers over busted windows. Sperry sonar was dead, washed with salt water, radios on the main console that has been inlaid were dead also, only two radios above windows were still running.
Great rumbling was heard from outside and 90 miles bird radar went black.
“We must lost transmitter on top of Crows nest” Says navigator.
Another wave hit and improvised windows survived. On hello pad above- screeching, and some struggle, all went quiet. Ship was continuing up and down the merciless seas.
“Skipper, I must to turn her about, one more like that and we might loose controls, or capsize. This is getting too much even for this old lady of the seas. I just don’t see how to, troughs were to stiff.”
“Check the compass, we has made turn already, and all this time we fight seas in the bow. If we succeed to turn her about , will surf down with following seas, but she might poke bow in through and decide not to come up no more.”
“That’s the chance we has to take, other vise, I am afraid for her.”
“Lets watch the pattern of the waves, all night were five in succession and then three big ones. If this is right, when we get down from last big one will try! Chief, Chief, will try to turn her about and sail with following seas, please be ready. Crew, be ready for sudden turn, I wont have time to tell you again”
Crew knew how hazardous was to turn ship about in storm. She can get caught by side sweep of the late wave and slide under surface forever. Crew braced for worst. In engine room Chief come around to his guys.
“That is guys, I am old son of a bitch, grumpy and grouchy but I am proud to have work with you. Just want to tell you that now while still have time. You are the best crew I have for long time.”
Longest speech and kindest words from old Primota (US Portuguese) one ewer heard. White faces of engine crew faced each other. Knuckles on hands gripping rails get white. Skipper was on the PA.
“Not yet, not yet, not yet, brace your self, NOW, NOW, turn baby turn”
Two EMD’s were giving their all; stern was shaking under stream of water from propeller. Ship for a moment stopped. It was as she think- this humans are crazy, I am not made for this. And than she slowly start to turn, than faster and better, wave was coming now from the side.
Navigator face was white, wide spread legs were shaking, steering wheel full to port.
“ Turn baby , please turn, good girl, turn , now, now, you bitch, turn now, big ones is coming, dammit, turn you old bitch, oh God let her turn, ill light candles’ for thy if you let me live through this, turn baby turn , yes, yes, at’ a girl, you are my best baby, YEEEEHAAAA,”
PA was bursting of yells from the bridge. Skipper have forgotten to he still has PA mike in hands and whole crew heard what’s going on, on the bridge. Crew scrambled on the bridge in ruins. Navigator and Skipper look at each other in disbelief.
“She turned about , did you see this big one just when our stern was in right position?”
“Navigator, you, you, you did it, I cant believed, you pulled this off”
Crew was chirring and slapping each other shoulders.
“Guys, we are not through yet, we might have smoother sailing now, but don’t let the guard off. Get the saws and cut this windows properly will dog them in from inside and cross from outside, this is not over yet”
She was limping down and up the waves. Windows were blanked. Navigator steered on instructions from Skipper . Two days after seas become friendlier, waves subsided, Navigator succeeded for a first time in days to take sky down and plot position.
“Skipper we are three hundred miles behind the point we get in this mess and one hundred fifty miles to the East”
They calculated position twice and results were the same storm did it right. When crew finally wandered on the deck, it was picture to be seen. Crows nest almost eighty feet above sea line – gone, half mast broken in pieces, and mid mast radar tangled base with just enough clearance for antenna to turn. Speed boat was gone with cradle. Starboard passage cleared of all clutter and radio buys. On hello pad old Bell 47 was sitting on the skids almost to the edge of the roof, rotors washed away, bubble busted in shreds. One of bow cranes gone ripped from foundation. On the stern skiff was out of the skids and laying almost side way on the stern, half of the net hanging over the cork. Chain and rings moved almost three feet to starboard, meaning whole net was floating. Shut for fish gone, both cargo booms and main boom were crooked as English long bow. Radios lost, she was limping in the Guam her home port. It was no way of telling anyone about condition.
Week’s pas by and odor in the air signaled land, sweet smell of jungle , floating coconuts and soda cans .
Finally in the range of channel 16 Navigator called :
“This is tuna vessel, asking permission to enter Apra harbor, we has suffered damage in storm and need repairs, out”
“Tuna vessel, tuna vessel, this is US coast Guard, what’s your status, do you need any assistance?”
“US CG, US CG this is tuna vessel, no we don’t need assistance, thank you”
“Harbor master, harbor master this is tuna vessel, need priority in docking in front of Casamar.”
“Tuna vessel, tuna vessel, I see you, you have permission to get on Casamar dock.
Cannery workers in white overcoats work on lines producing tuna cans in millions. Samoan unloaders hired by Agents of Blue Angel were on the ships unloading frozen fish. In lava-lavas native dress –skirt like, some wearing zories, others in busted up rubber boots and most of them barefoot. Most of new comers were awestruck seeing this people barefoot on the frozen fish that has temperature of minus thirteen degrees Celsius.
After becoming familiar with Samoa they understand to on Samoa things were different than in rest of World. Samoan People were huge race, most common sizes of T shits were in 4 to 6 XL, shorts , shoes were in sizes that in rest of the world will be for Reply’s “ Believed or not”, 14, 16 and in one store 24 EEEE (extra wide). Samoans were people of great strength, greater past and sweet music.
On the Commercial port side six clippers were on the dock three along side, as Port was small. First on the dock were loading supply, while others did last moment repairs or improvements. This was time before weather satellite communications, weather fax was luxury and Coast Guard radio was God given for short time and not that accurate. Most of sailors didn’t bother with predictions on Pacific. What’s to come will come and nothing one can do about.
On net yard, crew’s were mending the nets. Over Rainmaker peak , eternal clouds were hanging engulfing whole PagoPago in some kind of twilight, raining was common and if didn’t rain for hour or two , locals were already talking how weather is spoiled. Otherwise Pago was place where time seems to have stopped about sixty years ago in modern life. Underneath this westernized surface was still patriarchal society . Chiefs of villages were judges, and jury for Samoans. Only if conflicts were not solved by them culprits were sent to Police. If one was to conduct business in Samoa, his best bet was to visit chiefs, or Ultimate chief and ask for permission to do what ewer his business was. Once permission was given , word was spread and no difficulties were allowed. But if one didn’t do that, after a while he will found A. Samoa almost impossible to conduct business. Raising voice in conducting business was bad, threatening one Samoan was threatening all of them and some time strangers was beaten in the pulp. But if stranger follow the rules, visit the chief/s, respected local custom, treated people well, it was no limit and distance where Samoan will go to help you.
Our ship has just get paid, crew were in post office- last call home, Skippers were in Sadie Thompson restaurant and bar, some crew finished in Evalani’s bar, while singles and married hided in Rainmaker hotel rooms, making best of the time left before departure.
Departure was at five after noon, as after sunset was no way to pilot will take you out. Hatches secured, salt stocked and covered with plastic just in case. Deck hatches tightened down, so water from holds will not splash all over wet deck. Southern Pacific didn’t have mercy for people without respect. In heart beat Pacific will put arrogant soul on right place. Helicopter lashed down. Drums with oil discharged in holding tanks, last filters checks done, skiff lashed down, speed boat lashed down, radio buoys tested .
Million and one thing to do before lines were thrown of the dock. Deck boss hang bag with garlic on the bow- just in case to bad luck and sea witches attack. Cofiero brought two bags of salt to the stern deck. When she take of the dock tradition was to throw the salt on the dock, and people on the dock, for good luck, begging divine protection, for good weather, smooth sailing, and any other thousand and one reason one land critter, spending life on the rolling deck, being at sea months at the time, listening same story over and over again, from same faces. People knew better how their room mate sound when sleep than their spouses. This was close knitted society. Some landlubbers called us prisoners of our free will, others crazy, third did not understand how normal human being can spend days, weeks, months and years fishing. This was out of whack for majority. Ocean was newer place for majority. That was place for chosen few, few that chose to live, navigate and make living plowing blue endless surface.
Main engines were running, bow thruster idling, hydraulics whining, last strugglers were boarding. Navigator wife standing on the dock and listen for last words from husband that she will not see for weeks or months, Skipper on the winch controls with winch man, crew on the bow and stern stand by.
Five o clock.
“Let go the bow”
“Let go bow spring” Bow thruster shudder and start pushing ship away from dock.
”Let go stern spring” bow thruster increases power, and ships bow slowly turn to starboard.
“Let go stern line, rudder full to port” now bow and stern leaving dock. Salt was open and handful thrown on those remaining on the dock, on dock it self. Ships dog excited barking and running from bridge to hello deck, barking farewell to his Samoan cousins.
“Slow ahead”
“By, by”,” see you next time”, “be good and tell the kids to study”, ”will be back shortly”, “ see you in Guam” ,”By , by”
Last waves, bow was already turned toward mouth of Pago Pago harbor. Soon influence of the open ocean was felt. She start to pitch, roll, and bow under thrust of both engines plowing deeper in the open waters, while stern vibrated above variable stein less still propeller.
Skipper and navigator disappear in the bridge. Deck boss and crew stored lines in bow lazaret and on the starboard side of the house under the windows of the Skipper living quarters. Most of the jobs were done, small corrections here and there. Done. Crew gathered in the galley. Dinner was served and one by one people retired in cabins for some sleep before watch.
Morning comes all too early, but all knew to fishing grounds were still two days far away. Few shows up for breakfast, more for lunch, and all for dinner. Unloading was from seven in the morning, but crew prepped all since six o clock, and after unloading, it was happy time in Evalani’s or Sadi’s. Not much was left for sleep. Now, majority try to catch up between watch in engine room or on the bridge.
One more welcome night pass by. Sailing all time North, at economy speed, it will take at least three days to reach south Papua New Guinea, and fishing grounds. By direction of the ship old-timers were estimating position and future .
Day was hot, barometer was hectic. Navigator try to reach Australia on radio, but static was giving difficulties’ in communications.
“Newer before have seen barometer going crazy as today”
“Look on it and record changes, something is cooking around us”-Skipper says.
“Night watch, wake me up if the sea change’s I don’t liked” Navigator was spooked by something.
Chief engineer come to the bridge, he has same fillings, something in their watery world wasn’t right. Two of them has over eighty years on sea, and gut feeling was telling them to some danger was coming.
“Skipper, lets close water tight doors tonight, what do you say?”
“OK”, skipper knew better than argue.
He called deck boss to the bridge.
“Listen, will close all water tight doors, something is coming, barometer falling for hours now, wind changing directions, seas growing. Make sure to tell the cook and rest of the crew to tighten and secure all loose things. Remove bottles from tables. I think we are in for a devil’s dance.”
Chief engineer, assistant and watch men did same thing in engine. Bow hutch was battened down, bow storage space watertight door, dogged, deck hutch for bow thruster tightened.
On the deck, skiff man and rest of the crew tightened cable over the skiff. It was their substitute for life boat, It was unthinkable to waves wash it away. Some crew members pulled life jackets and inspected them. Others making fun of them followed suit. After years at Pacific most of them developed kind of
Sixth sense to trust gut feeling. Gut feeling is something eternal; always kick in when danger comes around. Cook pulled one life jacket made specially for the ship’s dog and have it handy. All went to sleep.
Tomorrow morning wasn’t better than night. Seas were white crested and confused. Barometer was still falling. To walk one must outreach by hands, and synchronize steps with motion of the ship. Cook didn’t cook anything. He prepared lots of sandwiches and crackers. Coffee maker was secured and empty. Bow was some time climbing up and up, and than falling down with big splash.
Crew was tending to regular duties; it was not much joking or messing around as when is situation normal, some heavy burden, invisible but there, hanging above them as Damocles sword. House was designed without windows, and was not much information’s from outside about conditions of sea. Now and then howling of the wind in riggings will come down through still structure. Hull was strong and they have engine room amid ship. This was best in this situation as point of gravity was deep down. All fish holds were full to the hutches to prevent liquid roll. Stabilizer or Flume tank in stern was filled to the optimum for best performance. Main boom was lowered down yesterday and lashed over the net and with double, single and rigging lay securely. Both cargo booms were down, also lashed and rigging tightened. Jocker’s were used to additionally reinforce booms.
Day was slow, but sea wasn’t to give up. More and more height of the seas was increasing. Sometime ship will sail up the wave for a long time. On the top of the crest will shudder for a moment, and than slide down in the through with increased speed. Once in the through she will slow down and try to fight her way up the next wave. All engineers and watch were dogged in engine room and stand by for any eventuality. Nights come, bilges were filling up through openings around the stacks, and water was slowly increasing level. To prevent sloshing, pumps were running as needed. In pipe alley bilges were dry, and bottom tanks were measured. Fuel purifier in service sucked fuel from bottom tanks and deposited in wing tanks, they started second purifier and set it up so it can suck fuel from wing tanks and re-purified.
Both twelve cylinder EMD’s were running smoothly. Hour after hour, ship was cutting seas, speed slowed down considerably, it was hard, hard but not alarming. They have been through similar before. Some went in the bed and try to rest; others were on the bridge listening to the radio Australia.
“Attention all mariners, attention all mariners, large tropical depression formed in position North of American Samoa has developed in fully blown typhoon. It is estimated to wind speeds were between seventy and ninety miles, with gusts of over one hundred miles. Special announcement for vessels at sea, watch out for rough seas. It is inspected to wave height will increase to forty feet; watch out for pattern in waves as rough waves might be inspected. Tomorrow is inspected further wind strength increase and accordingly wave action and height.”
Navigator switch station and found Papua New Guinea New Ireland missionary station. Missionary’s transmitted prayer for all sailors and people on the islands on the path of nature wrath. Skipper and Navigator look at each other.
“Don’t look good”
“Nope, it does not”
“We are in and just have to sail through. That’s all we can do. We don’t know how far and wide this is, and now is no way of returning”
Day was getting old, wind and waves growing, fears of unknown – unspoken. Skipper get on the PA and
Announced:
“Attention, we are in to get it, she is strong and build to last, we are in typhoon and Australians called it biggest in last few years. Make sure you got your money and documents in water tight bags and with you at all times. I don’t say will needed but better be ready than sorry”
Night was worst than day. Strong halogen lights on the bow were shining at hungry attacking seas. Navigator after a while decided to its better to run without them. She will sail smooth for a while and then start to climb. Five, ten degrees, fifteen degrees bow will go up and up, weight now on at the stern put big burden on propeller and navigator increases throttle and se us over. Once on the top of the crest, propeller will find it self in the air, engines will speed up and navigator then reduced speed to dead slows. Precariously hanging in balance for a moment, bow tilted downwards, prop hit the water and engines speed up by shear speed of surfing down in to the through. People in galley were trying to estimate height of the wave by time of climb and surf down, but it was just impossible. Some start to pray:
“Our father …………………………….
Dog that was never allowed access in the galley has his life jacket, curled on the floor and was squeaking, and from time to time he will get somebody legs and leak it. We newer knew to dogs can make tears, but terrified ship dog was crying and finally pee under himself.
All that was bad omen for people in galley, but there they are and have no place to go. Howling of the wind further increased, height of the seas become monstrous.
In one moment she run down the through, wave was so enormous to when she reached lowest in the through, didn’t have space and time to start to climb. Wave collapsed over her.
In the engine room men were with lanyards and belts, at all four crawling around equipment do what needed to do. Having engines running was life or death situation.
Submerged vessel start eating air from its own innards, hard working engines were rapidly sucking life giving oxygen from all parts of the vessel. Ears start to pop and hurt, engines suffocating for lack of air.
Green water running in the engine room through openings us newer knew we have.
Hull under enormous weight of water start to groan and moan, for a moment she stopped as in midair, it was as if she wants to decide if she wants to continue or to give up. And than with high speed she shoots to the surface, and start to fight her way up the next wave. Engineer’s ears popped up again, fresh air was streaming in the engine room. Chief and his crew all at once start to change one of fuel filters on duplex Racors we have installed recently. They were designed just for situations like this when one is forced to change filters and can’t shoot engine down. Same thing was with oil filters. One of the guys was in the stern rudder compartment making sure it’s enough oil in bearing system and hydraulics runs properly.
“Chief, I must tighten stern shaft packing it start to leak”
“Ok, make sure to you tighten across and evenly, don’t over-tight, as it can burn, Make sure you don’t get wrapped around the shaft”
“Chief bilge pump loosing suction, suction strainer is clogged up”
Assistant crawled to port side and with help of other engine man open deck plate under which were suction strainer. Black bilge water was sloshing around following motion of the vessel. Only way to clean large strainer was to get down under deck and shut valves close, clean strainer basket , and than re start the pump. Bilges were increasing with water from bow thruster and stern tubes.
“Pass me 15/16”
“Hold the deck plate, lashed with some rope”
“Pull basket up, pull, it’s heavy and full of garbage”
Chief come around and lend the hand, helping drag the strainer basket to the waste drum. After cleaning they restored order and bilge pump was happily dumping bilges over the side.
“I swear to God almighty, it is last time I have to deal with bilges in the storm. You bastards will clean this bilges until I can eat my dinner from. From tools, rags, sockets we found everything down there. Oh God please spare me and this collection of types, and I promise you I will have cleanest bilges in the world.” Chief engineer was pissed off.
Fighting seas she submerged numerous times through the night. Now was two days in this maelstrom. It was as somebody has thrown them in wash machine and tumble dryer.
Morning come. Wave hit the bow. From the bridge comes call to crew in the galley;
“Get me the plywood on the bridge and 2x4’s I need plywood and 2x4”
Crew scrambled, and from wet deck pulls pieces of ply wood to the bridge. Green water was running down the stairs from the bridge. Navigator bloodied face was white in fear; Skipper standing besides him didn’t pass any better. Crew batten improvised covers over busted windows. Sperry sonar was dead, washed with salt water, radios on the main console that has been inlaid were dead also, only two radios above windows were still running.
Great rumbling was heard from outside and 90 miles bird radar went black.
“We must lost transmitter on top of Crows nest” Says navigator.
Another wave hit and improvised windows survived. On hello pad above- screeching, and some struggle, all went quiet. Ship was continuing up and down the merciless seas.
“Skipper, I must to turn her about, one more like that and we might loose controls, or capsize. This is getting too much even for this old lady of the seas. I just don’t see how to, troughs were to stiff.”
“Check the compass, we has made turn already, and all this time we fight seas in the bow. If we succeed to turn her about , will surf down with following seas, but she might poke bow in through and decide not to come up no more.”
“That’s the chance we has to take, other vise, I am afraid for her.”
“Lets watch the pattern of the waves, all night were five in succession and then three big ones. If this is right, when we get down from last big one will try! Chief, Chief, will try to turn her about and sail with following seas, please be ready. Crew, be ready for sudden turn, I wont have time to tell you again”
Crew knew how hazardous was to turn ship about in storm. She can get caught by side sweep of the late wave and slide under surface forever. Crew braced for worst. In engine room Chief come around to his guys.
“That is guys, I am old son of a bitch, grumpy and grouchy but I am proud to have work with you. Just want to tell you that now while still have time. You are the best crew I have for long time.”
Longest speech and kindest words from old Primota (US Portuguese) one ewer heard. White faces of engine crew faced each other. Knuckles on hands gripping rails get white. Skipper was on the PA.
“Not yet, not yet, not yet, brace your self, NOW, NOW, turn baby turn”
Two EMD’s were giving their all; stern was shaking under stream of water from propeller. Ship for a moment stopped. It was as she think- this humans are crazy, I am not made for this. And than she slowly start to turn, than faster and better, wave was coming now from the side.
Navigator face was white, wide spread legs were shaking, steering wheel full to port.
“ Turn baby , please turn, good girl, turn , now, now, you bitch, turn now, big ones is coming, dammit, turn you old bitch, oh God let her turn, ill light candles’ for thy if you let me live through this, turn baby turn , yes, yes, at’ a girl, you are my best baby, YEEEEHAAAA,”
PA was bursting of yells from the bridge. Skipper have forgotten to he still has PA mike in hands and whole crew heard what’s going on, on the bridge. Crew scrambled on the bridge in ruins. Navigator and Skipper look at each other in disbelief.
“She turned about , did you see this big one just when our stern was in right position?”
“Navigator, you, you, you did it, I cant believed, you pulled this off”
Crew was chirring and slapping each other shoulders.
“Guys, we are not through yet, we might have smoother sailing now, but don’t let the guard off. Get the saws and cut this windows properly will dog them in from inside and cross from outside, this is not over yet”
She was limping down and up the waves. Windows were blanked. Navigator steered on instructions from Skipper . Two days after seas become friendlier, waves subsided, Navigator succeeded for a first time in days to take sky down and plot position.
“Skipper we are three hundred miles behind the point we get in this mess and one hundred fifty miles to the East”
They calculated position twice and results were the same storm did it right. When crew finally wandered on the deck, it was picture to be seen. Crows nest almost eighty feet above sea line – gone, half mast broken in pieces, and mid mast radar tangled base with just enough clearance for antenna to turn. Speed boat was gone with cradle. Starboard passage cleared of all clutter and radio buys. On hello pad old Bell 47 was sitting on the skids almost to the edge of the roof, rotors washed away, bubble busted in shreds. One of bow cranes gone ripped from foundation. On the stern skiff was out of the skids and laying almost side way on the stern, half of the net hanging over the cork. Chain and rings moved almost three feet to starboard, meaning whole net was floating. Shut for fish gone, both cargo booms and main boom were crooked as English long bow. Radios lost, she was limping in the Guam her home port. It was no way of telling anyone about condition.
Week’s pas by and odor in the air signaled land, sweet smell of jungle , floating coconuts and soda cans .
Finally in the range of channel 16 Navigator called :
“This is tuna vessel, asking permission to enter Apra harbor, we has suffered damage in storm and need repairs, out”
“Tuna vessel, tuna vessel, this is US coast Guard, what’s your status, do you need any assistance?”
“US CG, US CG this is tuna vessel, no we don’t need assistance, thank you”
“Harbor master, harbor master this is tuna vessel, need priority in docking in front of Casamar.”
“Tuna vessel, tuna vessel, I see you, you have permission to get on Casamar dock.
Storm
Late November. American Samoa, Pago Pago - tuna clipper Capital of the world, deep, safe port inside caldera of extinguished volcano. Numerous ships on the docks on commercial side and three on cannery’s docks. Relentless rattle of the unloading, fork lifts mix with sweet sounds of Samoan music. Odor of decaying fish blood, brown mud washed in the bay. After years of it, bay water become brown and stinky also, but that was life giving industry on the southernmost part of USA. It didn’t pay much but was a pay.
Cannery workers in white overcoats work on lines producing tuna cans in millions. Samoan unloaders hired by Agents of Blue Angel were on the ships unloading frozen fish. In lava-lavas native dress –skirt like, some wearing zories, others in busted up rubber boots and most of them barefoot. Most of new comers were awestruck seeing this people barefoot on the frozen fish that has temperature of minus thirteen degrees Celsius.
After becoming familiar with Samoa they understand to on Samoa things were different than in rest of World. Samoan People were huge race, most common sizes of T shits were in 4 to 6 XL, shorts , shoes were in sizes that in rest of the world will be for Reply’s “ Believed or not”, 14, 16 and in one store 24 EEEE (extra wide). Samoans were people of great strength, greater past and sweet music.
On the Commercial port side six clippers were on the dock three along side, as Port was small. First on the dock were loading supply, while others did last moment repairs or improvements. This was time before weather satellite communications, weather fax was luxury and Coast Guard radio was God given for short time and not that accurate. Most of sailors didn’t bother with predictions on Pacific. What’s to come will come and nothing one can do about.
On net yard, crew’s were mending the nets. Over Rainmaker peak , eternal clouds were hanging engulfing whole PagoPago in some kind of twilight, raining was common and if didn’t rain for hour or two , locals were already talking how weather is spoiled. Otherwise Pago was place where time seems to have stopped about sixty years ago in modern life. Underneath this westernized surface was still patriarchal society . Chiefs of villages were judges, and jury for Samoans. Only if conflicts were not solved by them culprits were sent to Police. If one was to conduct business in Samoa, his best bet was to visit chiefs, or Ultimate chief and ask for permission to do what ewer his business was. Once permission was given , word was spread and no difficulties were allowed. But if one didn’t do that, after a while he will found A. Samoa almost impossible to conduct business. Raising voice in conducting business was bad, threatening one Samoan was threatening all of them and some time strangers was beaten in the pulp. But if stranger follow the rules, visit the chief/s, respected local custom, treated people well, it was no limit and distance where Samoan will go to help you.
Our ship has just get paid, crew were in post office- last call home, Skippers were in Sadie Thompson restaurant and bar, some crew finished in Evalani’s bar, while singles and married hided in Rainmaker hotel rooms, making best of the time left before departure.
Departure was at five after noon, as after sunset was no way to pilot will take you out. Hatches secured, salt stocked and covered with plastic just in case. Deck hatches tightened down, so water from holds will not splash all over wet deck. Southern Pacific didn’t have mercy for people without respect. In heart beat Pacific will put arrogant soul on right place. Helicopter lashed down. Drums with oil discharged in holding tanks, last filters checks done, skiff lashed down, speed boat lashed down, radio buoys tested .
Million and one thing to do before lines were thrown of the dock. Deck boss hang bag with garlic on the bow- just in case to bad luck and sea witches attack. Cofiero brought two bags of salt to the stern deck. When she take of the dock tradition was to throw the salt on the dock, and people on the dock, for good luck, begging divine protection, for good weather, smooth sailing, and any other thousand and one reason one land critter, spending life on the rolling deck, being at sea months at the time, listening same story over and over again, from same faces. People knew better how their room mate sound when sleep than their spouses. This was close knitted society. Some landlubbers called us prisoners of our free will, others crazy, third did not understand how normal human being can spend days, weeks, months and years fishing. This was out of whack for majority. Ocean was newer place for majority. That was place for chosen few, few that chose to live, navigate and make living plowing blue endless surface.
Main engines were running, bow thruster idling, hydraulics whining, last strugglers were boarding. Navigator wife standing on the dock and listen for last words from husband that she will not see for weeks or months, Skipper on the winch controls with winch man, crew on the bow and stern stand by.
Five o clock.
“Let go the bow”
“Let go bow spring” Bow thruster shudder and start pushing ship away from dock.
”Let go stern spring” bow thruster increases power, and ships bow slowly turn to starboard.
“Let go stern line, rudder full to port” now bow and stern leaving dock. Salt was open and handful thrown on those remaining on the dock, on dock it self. Ships dog excited barking and running from bridge to hello deck, barking farewell to his Samoan cousins.
“Slow ahead”
“By, by”,” see you next time”, “be good and tell the kids to study”, ”will be back shortly”, “ see you in Guam” ,”By , by”
Last waves, bow was already turned toward mouth of Pago Pago harbor. Soon influence of the open ocean was felt. She start to pitch, roll, and bow under thrust of both engines plowing deeper in the open waters, while stern vibrated above variable stein less still propeller.
Skipper and navigator disappear in the bridge. Deck boss and crew stored lines in bow lazaret and on the starboard side of the house under the windows of the Skipper living quarters. Most of the jobs were done, small corrections here and there. Done. Crew gathered in the galley. Dinner was served and one by one people retired in cabins for some sleep before watch.
Morning comes all too early, but all knew to fishing grounds were still two days far away. Few shows up for breakfast, more for lunch, and all for dinner. Unloading was from seven in the morning, but crew prepped all since six o clock, and after unloading, it was happy time in Evalani’s or Sadi’s. Not much was left for sleep. Now, majority try to catch up between watch in engine room or on the bridge.
One more welcome night pass by. Sailing all time North, at economy speed, it will take at least three days to reach south Papua New Guinea, and fishing grounds. By direction of the ship old-timers were estimating position and future .
Day was hot, barometer was hectic. Navigator try to reach Australia on radio, but static was giving difficulties’ in communications.
“Newer before have seen barometer going crazy as today”
“Look on it and record changes, something is cooking around us”-Skipper says.
“Night watch, wake me up if the sea change’s I don’t liked” Navigator was spooked by something.
Chief engineer come to the bridge, he has same fillings, something in their watery world wasn’t right. Two of them has over eighty years on sea, and gut feeling was telling them to some danger was coming.
“Skipper, lets close water tight doors tonight, what do you say?”
“OK”, skipper knew better than argue.
He called deck boss to the bridge.
“Listen, will close all water tight doors, something is coming, barometer falling for hours now, wind changing directions, seas growing. Make sure to tell the cook and rest of the crew to tighten and secure all loose things. Remove bottles from tables. I think we are in for a devil’s dance.”
Chief engineer, assistant and watch men did same thing in engine. Bow hutch was battened down, bow storage space watertight door, dogged, deck hutch for bow thruster tightened.
On the deck, skiff man and rest of the crew tightened cable over the skiff. It was their substitute for life boat, It was unthinkable to waves wash it away. Some crew members pulled life jackets and inspected them. Others making fun of them followed suit. After years at Pacific most of them developed kind of
Sixth sense to trust gut feeling. Gut feeling is something eternal; always kick in when danger comes around. Cook pulled one life jacket made specially for the ship’s dog and have it handy. All went to sleep.
Tomorrow morning wasn’t better than night. Seas were white crested and confused. Barometer was still falling. To walk one must outreach by hands, and synchronize steps with motion of the ship. Cook didn’t cook anything. He prepared lots of sandwiches and crackers. Coffee maker was secured and empty. Bow was some time climbing up and up, and than falling down with big splash.
Crew was tending to regular duties; it was not much joking or messing around as when is situation normal, some heavy burden, invisible but there, hanging above them as Damocles sword. House was designed without windows, and was not much information’s from outside about conditions of sea. Now and then howling of the wind in riggings will come down through still structure. Hull was strong and they have engine room amid ship. This was best in this situation as point of gravity was deep down. All fish holds were full to the hutches to prevent liquid roll. Stabilizer or Flume tank in stern was filled to the optimum for best performance. Main boom was lowered down yesterday and lashed over the net and with double, single and rigging lay securely. Both cargo booms were down, also lashed and rigging tightened. Jocker’s were used to additionally reinforce booms.
Day was slow, but sea wasn’t to give up. More and more height of the seas was increasing. Sometime ship will sail up the wave for a long time. On the top of the crest will shudder for a moment, and than slide down in the through with increased speed. Once in the through she will slow down and try to fight her way up the next wave. All engineers and watch were dogged in engine room and stand by for any eventuality. Nights come, bilges were filling up through openings around the stacks, and water was slowly increasing level. To prevent sloshing, pumps were running as needed. In pipe alley bilges were dry, and bottom tanks were measured. Fuel purifier in service sucked fuel from bottom tanks and deposited in wing tanks, they started second purifier and set it up so it can suck fuel from wing tanks and re-purified.
Both twelve cylinder EMD’s were running smoothly. Hour after hour, ship was cutting seas, speed slowed down considerably, it was hard, hard but not alarming. They have been through similar before. Some went in the bed and try to rest; others were on the bridge listening to the radio Australia.
“Attention all mariners, attention all mariners, large tropical depression formed in position North of American Samoa has developed in fully blown typhoon. It is estimated to wind speeds were between seventy and ninety miles, with gusts of over one hundred miles. Special announcement for vessels at sea, watch out for rough seas. It is inspected to wave height will increase to forty feet; watch out for pattern in waves as rough waves might be inspected. Tomorrow is inspected further wind strength increase and accordingly wave action and height.”
Navigator switch station and found Papua New Guinea New Ireland missionary station. Missionary’s transmitted prayer for all sailors and people on the islands on the path of nature wrath. Skipper and Navigator look at each other.
“Don’t look good”
“Nope, it does not”
“We are in and just have to sail through. That’s all we can do. We don’t know how far and wide this is, and now is no way of returning”
Day was getting old, wind and waves growing, fears of unknown – unspoken. Skipper get on the PA and
Announced:
“Attention, we are in to get it, she is strong and build to last, we are in typhoon and Australians called it biggest in last few years. Make sure you got your money and documents in water tight bags and with you at all times. I don’t say will needed but better be ready than sorry”
Night was worst than day. Strong halogen lights on the bow were shining at hungry attacking seas. Navigator after a while decided to its better to run without them. She will sail smooth for a while and then start to climb. Five, ten degrees, fifteen degrees bow will go up and up, weight now on at the stern put big burden on propeller and navigator increases throttle and se us over. Once on the top of the crest, propeller will find it self in the air, engines will speed up and navigator then reduced speed to dead slows. Precariously hanging in balance for a moment, bow tilted downwards, prop hit the water and engines speed up by shear speed of surfing down in to the through. People in galley were trying to estimate height of the wave by time of climb and surf down, but it was just impossible. Some start to pray:
“Our father …………………………….
Dog that was never allowed access in the galley has his life jacket, curled on the floor and was squeaking, and from time to time he will get somebody legs and leak it. We newer knew to dogs can make tears, but terrified ship dog was crying and finally pee under himself.
All that was bad omen for people in galley, but there they are and have no place to go. Howling of the wind further increased, height of the seas become monstrous.
In one moment she run down the through, wave was so enormous to when she reached lowest in the through, didn’t have space and time to start to climb. Wave collapsed over her.
In the engine room men were with lanyards and belts, at all four crawling around equipment do what needed to do. Having engines running was life or death situation.
Submerged vessel start eating air from its own innards, hard working engines were rapidly sucking life giving oxygen from all parts of the vessel. Ears start to pop and hurt, engines suffocating for lack of air.
Green water running in the engine room through openings us newer knew we have.
Hull under enormous weight of water start to groan and moan, for a moment she stopped as in midair, it was as if she wants to decide if she wants to continue or to give up. And than with high speed she shoots to the surface, and start to fight her way up the next wave. Engineer’s ears popped up again, fresh air was streaming in the engine room. Chief and his crew all at once start to change one of fuel filters on duplex Racors we have installed recently. They were designed just for situations like this when one is forced to change filters and can’t shoot engine down. Same thing was with oil filters. One of the guys was in the stern rudder compartment making sure it’s enough oil in bearing system and hydraulics runs properly.
“Chief, I must tighten stern shaft packing it start to leak”
“Ok, make sure to you tighten across and evenly, don’t over-tight, as it can burn, Make sure you don’t get wrapped around the shaft”
“Chief bilge pump loosing suction, suction strainer is clogged up”
Assistant crawled to port side and with help of other engine man open deck plate under which were suction strainer. Black bilge water was sloshing around following motion of the vessel. Only way to clean large strainer was to get down under deck and shut valves close, clean strainer basket , and than re start the pump. Bilges were increasing with water from bow thruster and stern tubes.
“Pass me 15/16”
“Hold the deck plate, lashed with some rope”
“Pull basket up, pull, it’s heavy and full of garbage”
Chief come around and lend the hand, helping drag the strainer basket to the waste drum. After cleaning they restored order and bilge pump was happily dumping bilges over the side.
“I swear to God almighty, it is last time I have to deal with bilges in the storm. You bastards will clean this bilges until I can eat my dinner from. From tools, rags, sockets we found everything down there. Oh God please spare me and this collection of types, and I promise you I will have cleanest bilges in the world.” Chief engineer was pissed off.
Fighting seas she submerged numerous times through the night. Now was two days in this maelstrom. It was as somebody has thrown them in wash machine and tumble dryer.
Morning come. Wave hit the bow. From the bridge comes call to crew in the galley;
“Get me the plywood on the bridge and 2x4’s I need plywood and 2x4”
Crew scrambled, and from wet deck pulls pieces of ply wood to the bridge. Green water was running down the stairs from the bridge. Navigator bloodied face was white in fear; Skipper standing besides him didn’t pass any better. Crew batten improvised covers over busted windows. Sperry sonar was dead, washed with salt water, radios on the main console that has been inlaid were dead also, only two radios above windows were still running.
Great rumbling was heard from outside and 90 miles bird radar went black.
“We must lost transmitter on top of Crows nest” Says navigator.
Another wave hit and improvised windows survived. On hello pad above- screeching, and some struggle, all went quiet. Ship was continuing up and down the merciless seas.
“Skipper, I must to turn her about, one more like that and we might loose controls, or capsize. This is getting too much even for this old lady of the seas. I just don’t see how to, troughs were to stiff.”
“Check the compass, we has made turn already, and all this time we fight seas in the bow. If we succeed to turn her about , will surf down with following seas, but she might poke bow in through and decide not to come up no more.”
“That’s the chance we has to take, other vise, I am afraid for her.”
“Lets watch the pattern of the waves, all night were five in succession and then three big ones. If this is right, when we get down from last big one will try! Chief, Chief, will try to turn her about and sail with following seas, please be ready. Crew, be ready for sudden turn, I wont have time to tell you again”
Crew knew how hazardous was to turn ship about in storm. She can get caught by side sweep of the late wave and slide under surface forever. Crew braced for worst. In engine room Chief come around to his guys.
“That is guys, I am old son of a bitch, grumpy and grouchy but I am proud to have work with you. Just want to tell you that now while still have time. You are the best crew I have for long time.”
Longest speech and kindest words from old Primota (US Portuguese) one ewer heard. White faces of engine crew faced each other. Knuckles on hands gripping rails get white. Skipper was on the PA.
“Not yet, not yet, not yet, brace your self, NOW, NOW, turn baby turn”
Two EMD’s were giving their all; stern was shaking under stream of water from propeller. Ship for a moment stopped. It was as she think- this humans are crazy, I am not made for this. And than she slowly start to turn, than faster and better, wave was coming now from the side.
Navigator face was white, wide spread legs were shaking, steering wheel full to port.
“ Turn baby , please turn, good girl, turn , now, now, you bitch, turn now, big ones is coming, dammit, turn you old bitch, oh God let her turn, ill light candles’ for thy if you let me live through this, turn baby turn , yes, yes, at’ a girl, you are my best baby, YEEEEHAAAA,”
PA was bursting of yells from the bridge. Skipper have forgotten to he still has PA mike in hands and whole crew heard what’s going on, on the bridge. Crew scrambled on the bridge in ruins. Navigator and Skipper look at each other in disbelief.
“She turned about , did you see this big one just when our stern was in right position?”
“Navigator, you, you, you did it, I cant believed, you pulled this off”
Crew was chirring and slapping each other shoulders.
“Guys, we are not through yet, we might have smoother sailing now, but don’t let the guard off. Get the saws and cut this windows properly will dog them in from inside and cross from outside, this is not over yet”
She was limping down and up the waves. Windows were blanked. Navigator steered on instructions from Skipper . Two days after seas become friendlier, waves subsided, Navigator succeeded for a first time in days to take sky down and plot position.
“Skipper we are three hundred miles behind the point we get in this mess and one hundred fifty miles to the East”
They calculated position twice and results were the same storm did it right. When crew finally wandered on the deck, it was picture to be seen. Crows nest almost eighty feet above sea line – gone, half mast broken in pieces, and mid mast radar tangled base with just enough clearance for antenna to turn. Speed boat was gone with cradle. Starboard passage cleared of all clutter and radio buys. On hello pad old Bell 47 was sitting on the skids almost to the edge of the roof, rotors washed away, bubble busted in shreds. One of bow cranes gone ripped from foundation. On the stern skiff was out of the skids and laying almost side way on the stern, half of the net hanging over the cork. Chain and rings moved almost three feet to starboard, meaning whole net was floating. Shut for fish gone, both cargo booms and main boom were crooked as English long bow. Radios lost, she was limping in the Guam her home port. It was no way of telling anyone about condition.
Week’s pas by and odor in the air signaled land, sweet smell of jungle , floating coconuts and soda cans .
Finally in the range of channel 16 Navigator called :
“This is tuna vessel, asking permission to enter Apra harbor, we has suffered damage in storm and need repairs, out”
“Tuna vessel, tuna vessel, this is US coast Guard, what’s your status, do you need any assistance?”
“US CG, US CG this is tuna vessel, no we don’t need assistance, thank you”
“Harbor master, harbor master this is tuna vessel, need priority in docking in front of Casamar.”
“Tuna vessel, tuna vessel, I see you, you have permission to get on Casamar dock.
Cannery workers in white overcoats work on lines producing tuna cans in millions. Samoan unloaders hired by Agents of Blue Angel were on the ships unloading frozen fish. In lava-lavas native dress –skirt like, some wearing zories, others in busted up rubber boots and most of them barefoot. Most of new comers were awestruck seeing this people barefoot on the frozen fish that has temperature of minus thirteen degrees Celsius.
After becoming familiar with Samoa they understand to on Samoa things were different than in rest of World. Samoan People were huge race, most common sizes of T shits were in 4 to 6 XL, shorts , shoes were in sizes that in rest of the world will be for Reply’s “ Believed or not”, 14, 16 and in one store 24 EEEE (extra wide). Samoans were people of great strength, greater past and sweet music.
On the Commercial port side six clippers were on the dock three along side, as Port was small. First on the dock were loading supply, while others did last moment repairs or improvements. This was time before weather satellite communications, weather fax was luxury and Coast Guard radio was God given for short time and not that accurate. Most of sailors didn’t bother with predictions on Pacific. What’s to come will come and nothing one can do about.
On net yard, crew’s were mending the nets. Over Rainmaker peak , eternal clouds were hanging engulfing whole PagoPago in some kind of twilight, raining was common and if didn’t rain for hour or two , locals were already talking how weather is spoiled. Otherwise Pago was place where time seems to have stopped about sixty years ago in modern life. Underneath this westernized surface was still patriarchal society . Chiefs of villages were judges, and jury for Samoans. Only if conflicts were not solved by them culprits were sent to Police. If one was to conduct business in Samoa, his best bet was to visit chiefs, or Ultimate chief and ask for permission to do what ewer his business was. Once permission was given , word was spread and no difficulties were allowed. But if one didn’t do that, after a while he will found A. Samoa almost impossible to conduct business. Raising voice in conducting business was bad, threatening one Samoan was threatening all of them and some time strangers was beaten in the pulp. But if stranger follow the rules, visit the chief/s, respected local custom, treated people well, it was no limit and distance where Samoan will go to help you.
Our ship has just get paid, crew were in post office- last call home, Skippers were in Sadie Thompson restaurant and bar, some crew finished in Evalani’s bar, while singles and married hided in Rainmaker hotel rooms, making best of the time left before departure.
Departure was at five after noon, as after sunset was no way to pilot will take you out. Hatches secured, salt stocked and covered with plastic just in case. Deck hatches tightened down, so water from holds will not splash all over wet deck. Southern Pacific didn’t have mercy for people without respect. In heart beat Pacific will put arrogant soul on right place. Helicopter lashed down. Drums with oil discharged in holding tanks, last filters checks done, skiff lashed down, speed boat lashed down, radio buoys tested .
Million and one thing to do before lines were thrown of the dock. Deck boss hang bag with garlic on the bow- just in case to bad luck and sea witches attack. Cofiero brought two bags of salt to the stern deck. When she take of the dock tradition was to throw the salt on the dock, and people on the dock, for good luck, begging divine protection, for good weather, smooth sailing, and any other thousand and one reason one land critter, spending life on the rolling deck, being at sea months at the time, listening same story over and over again, from same faces. People knew better how their room mate sound when sleep than their spouses. This was close knitted society. Some landlubbers called us prisoners of our free will, others crazy, third did not understand how normal human being can spend days, weeks, months and years fishing. This was out of whack for majority. Ocean was newer place for majority. That was place for chosen few, few that chose to live, navigate and make living plowing blue endless surface.
Main engines were running, bow thruster idling, hydraulics whining, last strugglers were boarding. Navigator wife standing on the dock and listen for last words from husband that she will not see for weeks or months, Skipper on the winch controls with winch man, crew on the bow and stern stand by.
Five o clock.
“Let go the bow”
“Let go bow spring” Bow thruster shudder and start pushing ship away from dock.
”Let go stern spring” bow thruster increases power, and ships bow slowly turn to starboard.
“Let go stern line, rudder full to port” now bow and stern leaving dock. Salt was open and handful thrown on those remaining on the dock, on dock it self. Ships dog excited barking and running from bridge to hello deck, barking farewell to his Samoan cousins.
“Slow ahead”
“By, by”,” see you next time”, “be good and tell the kids to study”, ”will be back shortly”, “ see you in Guam” ,”By , by”
Last waves, bow was already turned toward mouth of Pago Pago harbor. Soon influence of the open ocean was felt. She start to pitch, roll, and bow under thrust of both engines plowing deeper in the open waters, while stern vibrated above variable stein less still propeller.
Skipper and navigator disappear in the bridge. Deck boss and crew stored lines in bow lazaret and on the starboard side of the house under the windows of the Skipper living quarters. Most of the jobs were done, small corrections here and there. Done. Crew gathered in the galley. Dinner was served and one by one people retired in cabins for some sleep before watch.
Morning comes all too early, but all knew to fishing grounds were still two days far away. Few shows up for breakfast, more for lunch, and all for dinner. Unloading was from seven in the morning, but crew prepped all since six o clock, and after unloading, it was happy time in Evalani’s or Sadi’s. Not much was left for sleep. Now, majority try to catch up between watch in engine room or on the bridge.
One more welcome night pass by. Sailing all time North, at economy speed, it will take at least three days to reach south Papua New Guinea, and fishing grounds. By direction of the ship old-timers were estimating position and future .
Day was hot, barometer was hectic. Navigator try to reach Australia on radio, but static was giving difficulties’ in communications.
“Newer before have seen barometer going crazy as today”
“Look on it and record changes, something is cooking around us”-Skipper says.
“Night watch, wake me up if the sea change’s I don’t liked” Navigator was spooked by something.
Chief engineer come to the bridge, he has same fillings, something in their watery world wasn’t right. Two of them has over eighty years on sea, and gut feeling was telling them to some danger was coming.
“Skipper, lets close water tight doors tonight, what do you say?”
“OK”, skipper knew better than argue.
He called deck boss to the bridge.
“Listen, will close all water tight doors, something is coming, barometer falling for hours now, wind changing directions, seas growing. Make sure to tell the cook and rest of the crew to tighten and secure all loose things. Remove bottles from tables. I think we are in for a devil’s dance.”
Chief engineer, assistant and watch men did same thing in engine. Bow hutch was battened down, bow storage space watertight door, dogged, deck hutch for bow thruster tightened.
On the deck, skiff man and rest of the crew tightened cable over the skiff. It was their substitute for life boat, It was unthinkable to waves wash it away. Some crew members pulled life jackets and inspected them. Others making fun of them followed suit. After years at Pacific most of them developed kind of
Sixth sense to trust gut feeling. Gut feeling is something eternal; always kick in when danger comes around. Cook pulled one life jacket made specially for the ship’s dog and have it handy. All went to sleep.
Tomorrow morning wasn’t better than night. Seas were white crested and confused. Barometer was still falling. To walk one must outreach by hands, and synchronize steps with motion of the ship. Cook didn’t cook anything. He prepared lots of sandwiches and crackers. Coffee maker was secured and empty. Bow was some time climbing up and up, and than falling down with big splash.
Crew was tending to regular duties; it was not much joking or messing around as when is situation normal, some heavy burden, invisible but there, hanging above them as Damocles sword. House was designed without windows, and was not much information’s from outside about conditions of sea. Now and then howling of the wind in riggings will come down through still structure. Hull was strong and they have engine room amid ship. This was best in this situation as point of gravity was deep down. All fish holds were full to the hutches to prevent liquid roll. Stabilizer or Flume tank in stern was filled to the optimum for best performance. Main boom was lowered down yesterday and lashed over the net and with double, single and rigging lay securely. Both cargo booms were down, also lashed and rigging tightened. Jocker’s were used to additionally reinforce booms.
Day was slow, but sea wasn’t to give up. More and more height of the seas was increasing. Sometime ship will sail up the wave for a long time. On the top of the crest will shudder for a moment, and than slide down in the through with increased speed. Once in the through she will slow down and try to fight her way up the next wave. All engineers and watch were dogged in engine room and stand by for any eventuality. Nights come, bilges were filling up through openings around the stacks, and water was slowly increasing level. To prevent sloshing, pumps were running as needed. In pipe alley bilges were dry, and bottom tanks were measured. Fuel purifier in service sucked fuel from bottom tanks and deposited in wing tanks, they started second purifier and set it up so it can suck fuel from wing tanks and re-purified.
Both twelve cylinder EMD’s were running smoothly. Hour after hour, ship was cutting seas, speed slowed down considerably, it was hard, hard but not alarming. They have been through similar before. Some went in the bed and try to rest; others were on the bridge listening to the radio Australia.
“Attention all mariners, attention all mariners, large tropical depression formed in position North of American Samoa has developed in fully blown typhoon. It is estimated to wind speeds were between seventy and ninety miles, with gusts of over one hundred miles. Special announcement for vessels at sea, watch out for rough seas. It is inspected to wave height will increase to forty feet; watch out for pattern in waves as rough waves might be inspected. Tomorrow is inspected further wind strength increase and accordingly wave action and height.”
Navigator switch station and found Papua New Guinea New Ireland missionary station. Missionary’s transmitted prayer for all sailors and people on the islands on the path of nature wrath. Skipper and Navigator look at each other.
“Don’t look good”
“Nope, it does not”
“We are in and just have to sail through. That’s all we can do. We don’t know how far and wide this is, and now is no way of returning”
Day was getting old, wind and waves growing, fears of unknown – unspoken. Skipper get on the PA and
Announced:
“Attention, we are in to get it, she is strong and build to last, we are in typhoon and Australians called it biggest in last few years. Make sure you got your money and documents in water tight bags and with you at all times. I don’t say will needed but better be ready than sorry”
Night was worst than day. Strong halogen lights on the bow were shining at hungry attacking seas. Navigator after a while decided to its better to run without them. She will sail smooth for a while and then start to climb. Five, ten degrees, fifteen degrees bow will go up and up, weight now on at the stern put big burden on propeller and navigator increases throttle and se us over. Once on the top of the crest, propeller will find it self in the air, engines will speed up and navigator then reduced speed to dead slows. Precariously hanging in balance for a moment, bow tilted downwards, prop hit the water and engines speed up by shear speed of surfing down in to the through. People in galley were trying to estimate height of the wave by time of climb and surf down, but it was just impossible. Some start to pray:
“Our father …………………………….
Dog that was never allowed access in the galley has his life jacket, curled on the floor and was squeaking, and from time to time he will get somebody legs and leak it. We newer knew to dogs can make tears, but terrified ship dog was crying and finally pee under himself.
All that was bad omen for people in galley, but there they are and have no place to go. Howling of the wind further increased, height of the seas become monstrous.
In one moment she run down the through, wave was so enormous to when she reached lowest in the through, didn’t have space and time to start to climb. Wave collapsed over her.
In the engine room men were with lanyards and belts, at all four crawling around equipment do what needed to do. Having engines running was life or death situation.
Submerged vessel start eating air from its own innards, hard working engines were rapidly sucking life giving oxygen from all parts of the vessel. Ears start to pop and hurt, engines suffocating for lack of air.
Green water running in the engine room through openings us newer knew we have.
Hull under enormous weight of water start to groan and moan, for a moment she stopped as in midair, it was as if she wants to decide if she wants to continue or to give up. And than with high speed she shoots to the surface, and start to fight her way up the next wave. Engineer’s ears popped up again, fresh air was streaming in the engine room. Chief and his crew all at once start to change one of fuel filters on duplex Racors we have installed recently. They were designed just for situations like this when one is forced to change filters and can’t shoot engine down. Same thing was with oil filters. One of the guys was in the stern rudder compartment making sure it’s enough oil in bearing system and hydraulics runs properly.
“Chief, I must tighten stern shaft packing it start to leak”
“Ok, make sure to you tighten across and evenly, don’t over-tight, as it can burn, Make sure you don’t get wrapped around the shaft”
“Chief bilge pump loosing suction, suction strainer is clogged up”
Assistant crawled to port side and with help of other engine man open deck plate under which were suction strainer. Black bilge water was sloshing around following motion of the vessel. Only way to clean large strainer was to get down under deck and shut valves close, clean strainer basket , and than re start the pump. Bilges were increasing with water from bow thruster and stern tubes.
“Pass me 15/16”
“Hold the deck plate, lashed with some rope”
“Pull basket up, pull, it’s heavy and full of garbage”
Chief come around and lend the hand, helping drag the strainer basket to the waste drum. After cleaning they restored order and bilge pump was happily dumping bilges over the side.
“I swear to God almighty, it is last time I have to deal with bilges in the storm. You bastards will clean this bilges until I can eat my dinner from. From tools, rags, sockets we found everything down there. Oh God please spare me and this collection of types, and I promise you I will have cleanest bilges in the world.” Chief engineer was pissed off.
Fighting seas she submerged numerous times through the night. Now was two days in this maelstrom. It was as somebody has thrown them in wash machine and tumble dryer.
Morning come. Wave hit the bow. From the bridge comes call to crew in the galley;
“Get me the plywood on the bridge and 2x4’s I need plywood and 2x4”
Crew scrambled, and from wet deck pulls pieces of ply wood to the bridge. Green water was running down the stairs from the bridge. Navigator bloodied face was white in fear; Skipper standing besides him didn’t pass any better. Crew batten improvised covers over busted windows. Sperry sonar was dead, washed with salt water, radios on the main console that has been inlaid were dead also, only two radios above windows were still running.
Great rumbling was heard from outside and 90 miles bird radar went black.
“We must lost transmitter on top of Crows nest” Says navigator.
Another wave hit and improvised windows survived. On hello pad above- screeching, and some struggle, all went quiet. Ship was continuing up and down the merciless seas.
“Skipper, I must to turn her about, one more like that and we might loose controls, or capsize. This is getting too much even for this old lady of the seas. I just don’t see how to, troughs were to stiff.”
“Check the compass, we has made turn already, and all this time we fight seas in the bow. If we succeed to turn her about , will surf down with following seas, but she might poke bow in through and decide not to come up no more.”
“That’s the chance we has to take, other vise, I am afraid for her.”
“Lets watch the pattern of the waves, all night were five in succession and then three big ones. If this is right, when we get down from last big one will try! Chief, Chief, will try to turn her about and sail with following seas, please be ready. Crew, be ready for sudden turn, I wont have time to tell you again”
Crew knew how hazardous was to turn ship about in storm. She can get caught by side sweep of the late wave and slide under surface forever. Crew braced for worst. In engine room Chief come around to his guys.
“That is guys, I am old son of a bitch, grumpy and grouchy but I am proud to have work with you. Just want to tell you that now while still have time. You are the best crew I have for long time.”
Longest speech and kindest words from old Primota (US Portuguese) one ewer heard. White faces of engine crew faced each other. Knuckles on hands gripping rails get white. Skipper was on the PA.
“Not yet, not yet, not yet, brace your self, NOW, NOW, turn baby turn”
Two EMD’s were giving their all; stern was shaking under stream of water from propeller. Ship for a moment stopped. It was as she think- this humans are crazy, I am not made for this. And than she slowly start to turn, than faster and better, wave was coming now from the side.
Navigator face was white, wide spread legs were shaking, steering wheel full to port.
“ Turn baby , please turn, good girl, turn , now, now, you bitch, turn now, big ones is coming, dammit, turn you old bitch, oh God let her turn, ill light candles’ for thy if you let me live through this, turn baby turn , yes, yes, at’ a girl, you are my best baby, YEEEEHAAAA,”
PA was bursting of yells from the bridge. Skipper have forgotten to he still has PA mike in hands and whole crew heard what’s going on, on the bridge. Crew scrambled on the bridge in ruins. Navigator and Skipper look at each other in disbelief.
“She turned about , did you see this big one just when our stern was in right position?”
“Navigator, you, you, you did it, I cant believed, you pulled this off”
Crew was chirring and slapping each other shoulders.
“Guys, we are not through yet, we might have smoother sailing now, but don’t let the guard off. Get the saws and cut this windows properly will dog them in from inside and cross from outside, this is not over yet”
She was limping down and up the waves. Windows were blanked. Navigator steered on instructions from Skipper . Two days after seas become friendlier, waves subsided, Navigator succeeded for a first time in days to take sky down and plot position.
“Skipper we are three hundred miles behind the point we get in this mess and one hundred fifty miles to the East”
They calculated position twice and results were the same storm did it right. When crew finally wandered on the deck, it was picture to be seen. Crows nest almost eighty feet above sea line – gone, half mast broken in pieces, and mid mast radar tangled base with just enough clearance for antenna to turn. Speed boat was gone with cradle. Starboard passage cleared of all clutter and radio buys. On hello pad old Bell 47 was sitting on the skids almost to the edge of the roof, rotors washed away, bubble busted in shreds. One of bow cranes gone ripped from foundation. On the stern skiff was out of the skids and laying almost side way on the stern, half of the net hanging over the cork. Chain and rings moved almost three feet to starboard, meaning whole net was floating. Shut for fish gone, both cargo booms and main boom were crooked as English long bow. Radios lost, she was limping in the Guam her home port. It was no way of telling anyone about condition.
Week’s pas by and odor in the air signaled land, sweet smell of jungle , floating coconuts and soda cans .
Finally in the range of channel 16 Navigator called :
“This is tuna vessel, asking permission to enter Apra harbor, we has suffered damage in storm and need repairs, out”
“Tuna vessel, tuna vessel, this is US coast Guard, what’s your status, do you need any assistance?”
“US CG, US CG this is tuna vessel, no we don’t need assistance, thank you”
“Harbor master, harbor master this is tuna vessel, need priority in docking in front of Casamar.”
“Tuna vessel, tuna vessel, I see you, you have permission to get on Casamar dock.
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