Nautical Anachronisms

Old pirate movies are full of those salty terms that may have been used once in the days of wooden ships and iron men, but when those terms are used today they make me cringe. Utter the phrase "Shiver me timbers" on my boat, and you may be put ashore at the nearest beach.

Whenever a lubber comes on board I brace myself for the usual "Ahoy mateys" or "Heave ho me hearties". I try to encourage cheerful feelings on board, but somehow these anachronisms put a knot in my knickers.

What causes newcomers to the sea to come up with these antiquated expressions? Probably they are very uneasy with this new and unfamiliar environment, nervous about being out of place, uncomfortable or even fearful. The urge to call out "Batten down the hatches" is possibly their way to stirring up some courage. So I swallow my discomfort, clap on a nice smile, and subdue my urge to give him a smack.

We don't keelhaul people anymore....but sometimes it crosses my mind.



(A new feature is published every Wednesday.)

Ugly Ducklings

That's the way President Franklin D. Roosevelt described the new cargo ships that were being built for the lend-lease program during World War II. True, they were not pretty, but they performed well and some would say they won the war. Designated Emergency Cargo/large ship (EC 2), they earned the name Liberty Ship from the famous Patrick Henry quote: "Give me Liberty, or give me death!" The first of the 2751 ships launched was the SS Patrick Henry in 1941.

The ships were driven by a three-cylinder oil-fired steam engine, and could barely make 11 knots. Passing through the wolf packs of German U boats was treacherous, and many were torpedoed. The life span of the liberty ship was five years, but any one of them that made it across the Atlantic intact had fulfilled its purpose.

Based on the production techniques developed at the Hog Island shipyards in Philadelphia, the Liberty ships were prefabricated in factories all over the country, then assembled at 11 shipyards by welding the parts together. Ships were being produced on average in 70 days, and one ship, as a publicity stunt, went from keel to launch in less than five days!

The Liberty ship was 441 feet long, 56 feet at the beam, and could carry about 10,000 tons of cargo. Many of the ships went to sea overloaded, some broke up in storms. In the rush to build quickly, shipyards employed workers with limited skills, and some ships experienced structural failures. A few actually broke in half during their voyage.

Read the whole remarkable history of the
Liberty Ship.

Last to Die

Millions of people died during World War II. After all the brutality and destruction, there had to be an end, and there had to be one final life lost. What a poignant tragedy to survive such carnage only to be the last to die.

The last day of April 1945, Hitler committed suicide and left Admiral Doenitz in charge of the Third Reich. Doenitz tried to arrange a surrender to the Allies in order to avoid having to face the vengeance of the Russians. When that attempt failed, he issued a cease fire order on May 4th and sent radio messages to his fleet to cease hostilities and return to base. That order was to go into effect the next day at noon.

The collier Black Point was steaming off the coast of Rhode Island that day, headed for Boston with 7000 tons of coal. The German submarine U-853 had been submerged when the cease fire order was transmitted, and was apparently unaware that the war was over. The sub launched a torpedo attack on the Black Point hitting her in the stern. She sank in 15 minutes, taking with her Lonnie Whitson Lloyd, the last American sailor to die in the Atlantic war.

Just after midnight, May 6th, two blimps from Lakehurst Naval Air Station in New Jersey arrived on the scene to join sub-chasers hunting for the U-853. Some 190 depth charges, hundreds of hedge hogs and rocket bombs were launched, eventually bringing up debris and oil. Divers from a submarine rescue vessel confirmed that the German submarine lay destroyed on the bottom, her entire crew of 55 dead.

The next day Germany officially surrendered

Read the fascinating story of the Battle of Point Judith , researched and reported in rich detail by Ralph DiCarpio.

Snobs and Corinthians

No matter whether you are operating an eight foot dinghy or the largest supertanker, the rules of good seamanship are the same. After all, we are all operating on the same waterways, are subject to the same navigational restrictions, and are tossed about by the same weather systems. A true seaman would never have contempt for another fellow simply because his vessel was smaller or older.

Nevertheless, there are those "yacht snobs" out there who have committed themselves to learning everything about good seamanship, and who probably know all the words in this dictionary and use them properly. Nothing wrong with that! They do sometimes show off their expertise, though, and express their disdain for inferior seamanship.

They may be right, but annoying people are no fun.

At the other end of the same spectrum are the boat owners who know nothing about seamanship, and don't care. We sometimes call them corinthians . They seem to think their yacht is just like a car with no wheels, and that they already know everything they need to know. They often display all the common sense that money can buy.

Foolish people are no fun.

Somewhere in between are the yachtsmen who are proper seamen. They know their stuff, stow their fenders when underway, and can throw a bowline in a line. They keep a good watch, maintain a current decklog and carefully follow the rules of navigation. Above all, they look after the welfare of their crew and passengers, and show good-natured courtesy to all of their fellow seamen.

And they are fun.

(An original feature article is published here each Wednesday)