eye level right outside the bridge
ge
ng
windows. The rapidly flashing
light near the top of the buoy's
's
y
metal frame bobbed in my
y
face and the bell on the buoy
h
was clanging loudly enough
e
to wake the dead. A palpable
d
fear gripped me as I braced
f
for an almighty crunch of
tortured metal.
By absolute pure luck the
buoy skimmed along the
ship's port quarter without
touching solid steel but
smashed off a 45 gallon gash
drum slung over the side, scattering its garbage into the
swirling seas. The skipper, woken by the clanging bell, raced
up onto the bridge and immediately took stock of the near
miss situation ordering me to come back onto the correct
course at right angles to the traffic lane and quickly eyeing
up the oncoming shipping traffic situation. He ordered the
lookout below out of earshot and gave me a severe tongue
lashing that rang in my head for days. I learned a lot from
that navigation error, albeit the skipper and I had a fragile
relationship for some weeks until confidence was regained.
t
A different sort error which caused much mirth amongst us
was made by an ever zealous "skipper-owner" who revelled in
calculated risks and earning money for the company. He was a
hard driver as most Dutchmen were and would hastily sail in
fairly atrocious conditions to gain the rewards.
It was late November and we lay alongside his ship in Antwerp
after discharging china clay, both ships were a mess from the
clay cargo and required a thorough wash down before loading
the next. We lay there empty awaiting orders when the ship's
agent arrived on the quay.
The Dutch skipper greeted the agent from out on the bridge
wing and had a brief chat. Sailing orders usually arrived from
head office by telex and spelled out where to for the next cargo
but on this occasion the skipper just exchanged a few words and
in his zestful manner rounded up the crew, fired up the engine
and sailed off towards the locks. His parting words being that
they were off to Colchester to pick up a cargo.
We were happy to stay hunkered alongside and get the ship
cleaned up as atrocious weather was forecast out in the North
Sea. The zealous skipper-owner's ship plugged against the
tide some 50 miles to Flushing and sure enough encountered
a terrible rough sea crossing to the English coast, that night
www.skipper.co.nz
arriving exhausted off the pilot station the following day.
The pilots questioned who he was and where he was bound,
as his ship was not in their arrival orders. The skipper, bold as
brass, decides to hell with the pilots and their "bum" information
and navigates the ship himself up to Colchester, plonking the
ship alongside in his usual cavalier fashion. The inquisitive port
authorities challenged his presence and informed him a ship of
the same name was due in with a full cargo in a day or so and
had there been a mistake?
It quickly dawned on the skipper that it was his ship they were
expecting and that he should've loaded in Antwerp for Colchester
and not venture across the North Sea empty. Having no way to hide
his mistake, as the crew were aware of his cock up, they voyaged
back across the North Sea to collect their cargo in Antwerp.
The cost in wages, fuel, port fees, time, effort and energy
was painful for a skipper-owner to bear; needless to say, over
the coming months we subtly ribbed him about it, knowing the
financial loss caused him more pain than our ribbing. Naturally,
we counted our lucky stars it wasn't any of us making such a
mistake or we'd have been fired and our P45 in the post.
The moral of this little anecdote is to get your sailing
orders in writing.
July/August 2013 Professional Skipper 33
