Page 18: of Maritime Reporter Magazine (November 2015)

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have never been in a hurricane. from the National Weather Center, Alicia a weather facsimile on board which discovered that we had lost an enormous

That’s a fact. Actually, my wife roared ashore with a vengeance. would, at unpredictable intervals, spit pecan tree in the front yard, one which likes to say that whenever there is For the ? rst part of the storm, my girl- out a damp, blurry, magenta inked had miraculously missed the house when

I any kind of natural disaster, I’m friend did, I suppose, what everyone else weather map. Otherwise, ship-to-shore it came crashing down.

typically nowhere to be found. And, was doing at that point: she cracked a communications consisted of telex mes- when I think about it, I realize that she brew and watched the storm unfold out- sages delivered by Sparky and/or a gar- Sea Stories is right. Whether by accident or by de- side her living room window. And then, bled conversation (think: ? ngernails on Having sailed for just a little less than sign, that’s exactly how it has played out just as suddenly as it had come, it was the blackboard) with station WOO out six years, I don’t have too many excit- during the 30+ years that we have been gone. Or so she thought. She marveled at of Mobile, Alabama. In any event, and ing sea stories to tell. And, that’s just together. Whenever this touchy subject the clear sky suddenly overhead before having stopped once on the way south, ? ne. The worst weather that I can ever does come up – typically once a quar- realizing she was probably directly in we were generally aware of what was remember was a little storm that we en- ter – she usually points to one particular the eye of the storm. She was. Although about to happen in the Western Gulf, but countered on that same chemical tanker, event as proof of concept. weaker now, the storm picked up again beyond that, we didn’t know much. With on another voyage, headed south and

In August of 1983, long before Ka- and she watched the storm further – that last lines cast off, away we went. Mean- coming around Hatteras in ballast. The trina left her indelible mark on the U.S. is, until the plate glass window in the while, Alicia was approaching the U.S. waves and swells were pretty big (in my

Gulf Coast and the city of New Orleans living room began to visibly ? ex and Gulf Coast. humble opinion), the wind was blow- in particular, there was Alicia. On Au- “bow” under the changing and rapidly The way I remember it, and on the fol- ing pretty good, and on a couple of oc- gust 18 of that year, the storm – the only accelerating pressures. lowing day, I had the noon to four watch casions during my watch, we buried major event of that hurricane season – At this point, she wisely and quickly on the bridge, where, with my nose the bow when we caught a wave at the plowed ashore into Galveston and Hous- retreated to the safe room of her bath- pressed up against the porthole glass, wrong moment.

ton, causing billions of dollars in dam- room to sit next to the bathtub full of wa- I could watch the Chief Mate break- It was all a bit scary, waiting for the age, ? ooding and along the way, took the ter, listening to the wind scream into the ing a sweat with the pumpman as they bow to come back up and then watching lives of more than 20 unfortunate souls. face of the building. The rest is history. cleaned, stripped and gas-freed one tank that green water cascade off the focs’le

At the time, I called Houston home. I She has since forgiven me for not being after another. It was a beautiful day and and forward decks. I also admit to be- was also shipping out for a U.S.-based there in her time of need. I also had a I was bored to tears. After a while, how- ing a bit ‘green’ hanging onto to the en- oil and re? ning company. My wife – hurricane story to tell; albeit one which ever, the Captain thumped his way up gine order telegraph for dear life. The then my girlfriend – rode out Alicia hun- had much less of a story line. the stairs to the bridge. I quickly lurched vessel was a 41-year-old, jumboized kered down in her south Houston apart- myself out of his chair and ducked out tanker, long-in-the-tooth and she looked ment. Me? I was at sea in the middle of a Safely at Sea onto the port wing before he could chew it. Complete with an old-style midship 60-day rotation, sailing as Second Mate I had signed onto my regular vessel, me out. A minute later, the helmsman forward house, I can assure you that on a coastwise chemical tanker. a single skin, 600-ft. chemical carrier, stuck his head outside and said, “The the vessel would creak, ‘bend’ and ? ex on July 21. Typically, we would load Old Man wants to see you.” in certain conditions. For example, if

The Gathering Storm in Beaumont, Texas, and then proceed I popped back in and he barked at me, you loaded it slightly wrong – too much

As the storm approached the coast around the Florida Keys to discharge “We’re slowing down.” I looked at him weight on either end or too much in the (weeks later, my girlfriend told me all dribs and drabs of product, gasolines, dumbly for a minute and replied bril- middle, some of the doors in the of? cer’s about it in no uncertain terms), she had chemicals, lubes and other nasty car- liantly, “What?” At this point, he shook passageway didn’t close correctly until gone out and bought some beer, bread goes at as many as six discharge ports his head, sighed and rang up the Engine the condition had been remedied.

and butter (the three crucial “B’s” of on a given voyage. All the way back in Room himself. For the next 12 hours or Nevertheless, the Old Man didn’t seem any competent hurricane preparation), ballast, we would clean all tanks. Typi- so, we ran on reduced RPMs and the to- at all bothered by the storm, sitting im- the last three ‘C’ cell batteries left in the cally a two-week round trip, you would tal trip – according to my navigation re- passively; chain smoking in his chair

Bayou City, loaded up her only ? ash- endure four voyages in your usual work cords (and yes, I kept them and still have and watching it unfold. This, despite the light, and dutifully sterilized the bathtub cycle. In mid-August of that year, we them) – took about nine hours more than blue haze of cigarette smoke wafting all and ? lled it with tap water, in anticipa- were headed back in ballast for the U.S. it should have. Eventually, we chugged around me, gave me some comfort. We tion of the inevitable loss of power, gas Gulf Coast. into Beaumont, which was spared, I lurched our way down the coast, and I and water which was sure to follow. This Modern communications in 1983 did think, the brunt of the storm. Two more know that two consecutive half-hour “wasn’t her ? rst rodeo,” she deadpanned. not include cellular telephones, or for round trips and I headed home to pick Loran ? xes showed us actually going

And, just as Dr. Neil Frank had promised that matter, SATCOM. Sure, we had up the pieces. When I got to Houston, I backwards. All of it, child’s play for the 18 Maritime Reporter & Engineering News • NOVEMBER 2015

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