by captrmetz » January 25, 2014, 5:20 pm
Since the shipping season is over on the Great Lakes I thought I would write a few Sea Stories. Some of you bought my books and heard my stories before, but we have new boat nerds in our family that did not hear my stories. It will help pass the lonely winter day's ahead. I will post two Sea Stories per month. Enjoy. Capt. R. Metz
New Captain, Old Ship, November Gales
When I left the Incan Superior in the fall of 1980, I flew to Toronto. From there, I took a taxi to the office of the Soo River Company located at Thorold, Ontario. The office was inside a neat little white house situated next to Lock 7 Motel.
I met Captain Ron Dean, and he introduced me to Mr. Robert Pierson. I liked everybody from the start. It was a family atmosphere - and that atmosphere would last for 20 years. In many shipping companies, employees are nothing more than their employee number. No so with Soo River. You were treated like family.
I was surprised that Robert Pierson was so young; after all, he owned a shipping company. And he was not the last bit high-headed. He was a regular, nice guy.
Dinner was with Captain Dean. We talked about the company, and he told me I would go aboard the E. J. Newberry as second captain, since I hadn’t been down the Seaway in years. That was quite all right with me.
After dinner, Captain Dean shook my hand. “Good luck.”
I didn’t sleep very well in my room at Lock 7 Motel that night. I thought back to the night just before I joined my first ship, the Thomas Wilson. I didn’t sleep very well that night either. “Here we go again,” I thought. “What will happen this time?”
Before I knew it, the alarm clock was blaring. Time to go. At 3 AM, eyes barely open, I was standing next to the guard shack as the bow of the Newberry inched her way into Lock 7 of the Welland Canal. I met Captain Jerry Bissette, and life started over again.
Everything proceeded nicely aboard the Newberry. I was learning how she handled and we made the Seaway trip a few times. After about two months, in the black of night, Captain Bissette turned and said, “You take her through the Brockville Narrows yourself this time.”
“Cap, I don’t think I am ready to be turned loose by myself yet,” I protested.
“Well, I am going to bed. She’s all yours.” Off to bed he went.
I certainly felt lonely in the quiet of the wheelhouse. Of course, I would not dare show my fear in front of the wheelsman. I was thankful that it was dark inside the wheelhouse. He couldn’t see my knees knocking together.
I walked up to look out the front window. All I saw was a mess of red and green blinking lights as far as my eye could see. How in the world could I go in between all those flashing lights? They were everywhere. Beads of sweat formed on my brow. “God, I am in command!” I thought.
The bow was to the first set of lights. “Okay, red, right, return,” I said to myself. The red flashing light passed off the starboard bow, and the green was off to port. “Made it!” I thought, as the next pair came close. “Okay, now do the same thing again. And again. Heck, this is all right.” I just kept taking the first two ahead of me and keeping the ship between them. Actually, I started feeling pretty good about what I was doing. But the feeling did not last very long.
“…downbound, Brockville Narrows in 30 minutes,” came the security call over the radio.
“Oh, no!” I thought. I had never met a ship in the narrows, not even in the daytime. It was risky business to meet another ship there. “What should I do? Call the captain? Try to beat the other ship through? What if I try and don’t beat him?” Panic was setting in.
Then I heard a calm voice over the radio. “Good morning, Captain. Where about are you?”
I tried not to let the fright show in my voice when I replied. “Just below McNair Island,” I managed to gurgle out.
“Oh,” came the calm voice, “in that case, we will be through the narrows in time to meet you below Skeleton Island.”
Those words were beautiful. And he was right where he said he would be as we passed in the night. I glanced at my wheelsman, expecting to see horror on his face, but he just stood there humming an unrecognizable tune without a worry in the world. He didn’t know how much I had suffered. Really, I would have never left me in charge of the bridge that night, or any other night, until I had gained more experience.
Captain Bissette went on holidays, and Captain Percy was placed in command. He was a much older man. I don’t think he was very impressed with me at first. I guess we got off on the wrong foot when he asked me where the key for the safe was located.
“In the safe,” I said. “It’s never locked.”
“Well, it is now; I just locked it.”
I started laughing, quietly, but he heard it. That was it for me.
Thirty days later, when Captain Bissette came back, I asked Captain Percy if he would put a good word in to the office for me to sail my own ship.
“No,” was his answer. “I will not put in a good word for you because you will never make a good captain.”
I was shocked by his answer. Wow! I was really sorry then for laughing over that safe key affair. He never did call the company for me.
We were all glad to have Captain Bissette back. “How did things go with Percy?” he asked me.
I told him exactly what had happened, and I included the verbiage about how I would never sail my own boat and would not make a good captain.
Captain Bissette grunted, walked over to his desk, and called the company’s office. “I’d like to speak with Captain Dean,” he said. “Ron, this is Jerry. Do you have a boat for Dick to sail? He is ready to be cut loose and should have been weeks ago.” There was a pause, and Jerry handed me the phone.
“Get off in the [Welland] Canal upbound and fly to Thunder Bay,” Captain Dean told me. “When you get there, join the H. C. Heimbecker as master.”
Thank you, Captain Jerry Bissette.
~ ~
Since the shipping season is over on the Great Lakes I thought I would write a few Sea Stories. Some of you bought my books and heard my stories before, but we have new boat nerds in our family that did not hear my stories. It will help pass the lonely winter day's ahead. I will post two Sea Stories per month. Enjoy. Capt. R. Metz
New Captain, Old Ship, November Gales
When I left the Incan Superior in the fall of 1980, I flew to Toronto. From there, I took a taxi to the office of the Soo River Company located at Thorold, Ontario. The office was inside a neat little white house situated next to Lock 7 Motel.
I met Captain Ron Dean, and he introduced me to Mr. Robert Pierson. I liked everybody from the start. It was a family atmosphere - and that atmosphere would last for 20 years. In many shipping companies, employees are nothing more than their employee number. No so with Soo River. You were treated like family.
I was surprised that Robert Pierson was so young; after all, he owned a shipping company. And he was not the last bit high-headed. He was a regular, nice guy.
Dinner was with Captain Dean. We talked about the company, and he told me I would go aboard the E. J. Newberry as second captain, since I hadn’t been down the Seaway in years. That was quite all right with me.
After dinner, Captain Dean shook my hand. “Good luck.”
I didn’t sleep very well in my room at Lock 7 Motel that night. I thought back to the night just before I joined my first ship, the Thomas Wilson. I didn’t sleep very well that night either. “Here we go again,” I thought. “What will happen this time?”
Before I knew it, the alarm clock was blaring. Time to go. At 3 AM, eyes barely open, I was standing next to the guard shack as the bow of the Newberry inched her way into Lock 7 of the Welland Canal. I met Captain Jerry Bissette, and life started over again.
Everything proceeded nicely aboard the Newberry. I was learning how she handled and we made the Seaway trip a few times. After about two months, in the black of night, Captain Bissette turned and said, “You take her through the Brockville Narrows yourself this time.”
“Cap, I don’t think I am ready to be turned loose by myself yet,” I protested.
“Well, I am going to bed. She’s all yours.” Off to bed he went.
I certainly felt lonely in the quiet of the wheelhouse. Of course, I would not dare show my fear in front of the wheelsman. I was thankful that it was dark inside the wheelhouse. He couldn’t see my knees knocking together.
I walked up to look out the front window. All I saw was a mess of red and green blinking lights as far as my eye could see. How in the world could I go in between all those flashing lights? They were everywhere. Beads of sweat formed on my brow. “God, I am in command!” I thought.
The bow was to the first set of lights. “Okay, red, right, return,” I said to myself. The red flashing light passed off the starboard bow, and the green was off to port. “Made it!” I thought, as the next pair came close. “Okay, now do the same thing again. And again. Heck, this is all right.” I just kept taking the first two ahead of me and keeping the ship between them. Actually, I started feeling pretty good about what I was doing. But the feeling did not last very long.
“…downbound, Brockville Narrows in 30 minutes,” came the security call over the radio.
“Oh, no!” I thought. I had never met a ship in the narrows, not even in the daytime. It was risky business to meet another ship there. “What should I do? Call the captain? Try to beat the other ship through? What if I try and don’t beat him?” Panic was setting in.
Then I heard a calm voice over the radio. “Good morning, Captain. Where about are you?”
I tried not to let the fright show in my voice when I replied. “Just below McNair Island,” I managed to gurgle out.
“Oh,” came the calm voice, “in that case, we will be through the narrows in time to meet you below Skeleton Island.”
Those words were beautiful. And he was right where he said he would be as we passed in the night. I glanced at my wheelsman, expecting to see horror on his face, but he just stood there humming an unrecognizable tune without a worry in the world. He didn’t know how much I had suffered. Really, I would have never left me in charge of the bridge that night, or any other night, until I had gained more experience.
Captain Bissette went on holidays, and Captain Percy was placed in command. He was a much older man. I don’t think he was very impressed with me at first. I guess we got off on the wrong foot when he asked me where the key for the safe was located.
“In the safe,” I said. “It’s never locked.”
“Well, it is now; I just locked it.”
I started laughing, quietly, but he heard it. That was it for me.
Thirty days later, when Captain Bissette came back, I asked Captain Percy if he would put a good word in to the office for me to sail my own ship.
“No,” was his answer. “I will not put in a good word for you because you will never make a good captain.”
I was shocked by his answer. Wow! I was really sorry then for laughing over that safe key affair. He never did call the company for me.
We were all glad to have Captain Bissette back. “How did things go with Percy?” he asked me.
I told him exactly what had happened, and I included the verbiage about how I would never sail my own boat and would not make a good captain.
Captain Bissette grunted, walked over to his desk, and called the company’s office. “I’d like to speak with Captain Dean,” he said. “Ron, this is Jerry. Do you have a boat for Dick to sail? He is ready to be cut loose and should have been weeks ago.” There was a pause, and Jerry handed me the phone.
“Get off in the [Welland] Canal upbound and fly to Thunder Bay,” Captain Dean told me. “When you get there, join the H. C. Heimbecker as master.”
Thank you, Captain Jerry Bissette.
~ ~