I have read and written too much of our maritime heritage dredged out of books, models and replicas, tales of seamen long dead and ships rotted away. Our maritime heritage is being created by our own friends in their own vessels day by day. The people we know are as brave, hardy and skillful as those in the days of “wooden ships and iron men.”
Consider the offshore fishermen, the draggers, the seiners and long-liners. The gales they face are just as strong as those their ancestors faced. Ice still builds where the spray strikes. The fog and snow are just as thick, and every month we read in fishermen’s newspapers of vessels lost and men who didn’t come home. The Perfect Storm and The Hungry Ocean tell the story dramatically.
Our new technologies help in ways our ancestors never knew, but courage, strength and skill are as important as ever. Gear is much heavier, wire is stronger than rope, winches are much more powerful, but wires snap and lash back, weights are heavier, people get tangled in pitiless machinery; and always the sea is pressing in on every seam and plank and rivet. Accidents happen. Radio, EPIRB, GPS summon and direct other vessels and the Coast Guard to the scene. A helicopter hovers overhead, balancing against the gale, guided by a skillful pilot. Perhaps a swimmer is lowered to the cresting seas to rescue the victims one by one and see them hoisted to safety. Pilot, swimmer and victims must be brave, skillful and hardy people.
Research vessels, like fishermen, are often far offshore for days at a time towing drags to sample fish species and populations and the plankton on which fish feed. Scientists often go on fishing vessels to see how the work is done. They work with fishermen to build a sustainable fishery. Like fishermen, small vessels, ferries and even yachts, they are always in danger of being run down and ground up by tankers and fast commercial vessels. A research vessel left Boothbay several years ago and disappeared without a trace, even a debris field to mark the spot.
Lobstermen and inshore fishermen face the same dangers and deal with them with the same courage and skill. My neighbor was hauling his traps the day after a hurricane had passed offshore. Big old seas came piling in, breaking heavily on the ledges. The tide was ebbing, He had a string of traps on the edge of the shoal water and was hurrying to get them in. A bigger sea than usual humped up on the shoal, crested and toppled over. He suddenly became aware of a wall of water beside him. As the wave broke and crashed over him, he grabbed the davit with both hands and hung on, but the power of the breaking wave tore him loose, buried him in suds and foam, more air than water. It drove him to the bottom where he rolled around among the rocks and weed, not knowing which way was up. He clawed his way to the surface, grabbed a board with a towel rack attached and watched the boat he had built capsize and sink.
Fortunately someone on the shore saw him and called the Coast Guard, who came in and rescued him. I congratulated him the next day on his survival. He told me, reverently, “There are two Gods. One is in Heaven and the other is right here on my left shoulder.” He salvaged his boat, repaired her and went back to lobstering — very carefully.
The steel tug Harkness ran into a winter gale off Matinicus, driving big, cresting seas before it. It was a bitter wind with snow, sea smoke and spray that froze where it landed. Harkness was leaking badly and her pumps were frozen up. The heavy seas washed overboard a coil of heavy towing wire on her deck. It fouled her propeller. She radioed a Mayday to the Rockland Coast Guard, giving her position by GPS. The Rockland Coast Guard got their rescue boat underway at once. It was no night for flying.
Two lobstermen in a warm kitchen on Matinicus heard the Mayday on their radio and knew from the position given that they were much nearer to Harkness than was the Rockland Coast Guard, and Harkness was sinking. They donned winter clothes and plunged out into the gale. They got their big lobsterboat underway and headed out into that wild night.
Harkness’s radio and lights went out as her engine room flooded. The three men aboard hunted in the dark for anything that would float. As the mate left the pilot house, he grabbed a little flashlight his daughter had given him for Christmas. Harkness sank, leaving three men clinging to a wooden ladder adrift in the chaotic dark.
The lobstermen got to Harkness’s last position and found nothing but heavy seas and blowing snow. They searched for any sign of the foundered tug or her crew. Survival time in January water is short. The men must be found soon if they were to be found alive. The Rockland boat arrived and together they searched.
Then one of the lobstermen caught a dim gleam of light quite near. They found the three men, pretty well done up but still holding on to the ladder. The mate was too cold to hold the flashlight, but while he had held it, it froze to his glove. The Coast Guard took the survivors in to Rockland and they all survived. The Matinicus lobstermen also got home safely.
How is that for building and preserving our maritime heritage?
Roger F. Duncan is author of Coastal Maine: A Maritime History and other books.