Chapter 13: Ship Culture

Every group of people develops a unique homegrown culture. Companies deliberately try to manipulate the company’s culture with in-house newspapers and corporate events, encouraging volunteer participation in management designated charities and sponsoring youth organizations, like municipal sports leagues. Who is wise enough to point out where in the culture they were effective?

Families have cultures, too. Newlyweds have an adjustment period in the first year of marriage, sorting out who is the dominant personality. Then, they have children and learn who the real boss is. The one who screams to be attended. It’s perhaps understandable why there is a tendency for some bosses to scream at subordinates. Works for babies because they are cute. Bosses use threats or style.

Our crew is quickly becoming a family and I enjoy observing the culture form. It’s a good one. Francine was happy before, and now she is radiant. Other women to chat and socialize with is obviously important to her. Linda and Angie are very solicitous of Francine. Helpful. Anxious to do things for her and each other. Especially, hair care. Sunday afternoons, no work is scheduled and Sunday supper is DIY outside grill, so the girls convert the galley into a beauty parlor after lunch. Stinks up the entire boat with chemical odors.

Angie wasn’t asked to do two hours of maintenance after lunch. She stands eight hours of watches. Linda and Enrique only stand a six hour watch each, so do a couple more hours general labor in the afternoon. Angie voluntarily joins them. She is a natural leader.

Angie standing bridge watches allows Fred and Tiger to devote a couple hours per day each to assist Warren. Warren is as radiantly happy as Francine is. Didn’t I promise him some help?

Angie was too impatient to wait for me to slay my personal demons. She and Tiger soon took up together and seem to be a happy couple. Linda makes eyes at me, but nothing more overt. I’m reticent.

Enrique seems happy, among his own kind again. Sea people. Treated with respect and is respected, it’s a relief from the toxic office atmosphere he worked in before. Generous hearted Enrique. Frequently volunteers to steer awhile on his own time. We have an auto-pilot, so there isn’t the unrelenting tedium of constant hand steering, but Enrique looks proud when he is allowed to sit in the helm chair and monitor the auto-pilot. He’s a good seaman.

Tiger seems content. Fred too. Everybody cheered when I explained, not only the ten percent pay increases, but bonuses of untaxed party money in the local currency once we arrive in Africa. They won’t need to diminish their bank accounts for entertainment expenses. Fred and Francine are totally relieved at the news. Fred has a wife and home to support and Francine a young daughter. Beer money was hard to justify and harder to pry loose from the budgets. Now, they don’t need to, they have dedicated party funds.

Our little family organization works, and the culture is cooperative and happy. Everyone is happy except me. A fancy facade clads this ship’s old bones. Looks good, but underneath? I know all the things I wanted done and didn’t happen. Important things, like changing the cutlass bearings, just to mention one. You can feel the vibration of the shafts through your feet, when standing on the deck. It’s a small amount of vibration now. We have a long, long way to go. My expectation is, before we arrive in Africa, it will be difficult to keep light bulbs in their sockets we will be shaking so violently.

We are experiencing heavy Atlantic swells. Just before entering the Straights, Tiger lowered the legs on the liftboat, “Appeal to Heaven”.

To accomplish that, we slowed down, tripped the carpenter stopper, and shortened up. Launched the rescue boat, then sent it with Angie and Tiger aboard as crew to the Appeal to Heaven. They transferred to the lift boat, fired up a generator, lowered the legs about five fathoms deeper and locked the legs in place. Before returning, they walked back to the barge, boarded, inspected the cargo lashings, and sounded the tanks, checking for leaks. Recorded the amount of water in each tank. Tanks are seldom dusty dry. Condensation accumulates. A few inches of water is acceptable. Large or rapid increases are not acceptable.

Now we need to retrieve our crew members and the RIB. RIB is rigid inflatable boat. You’ve seen them, I’m sure. A fiberglass hull surrounded by fat inflated cloth covered tubes, and equipped with an outboard motor.

To retrieve, we use a sea painter. Tiger drives the RIB alongside, even with the lifting crane. We throw them a line, a sea painter. Angie toggles the eye of the sea painter around a thwart. We lower the crane bridles, and Angie hooks them to the lifting eyes. Tiger lets the RIB slowly fall astern. Up forward, Enrique and Linda secure fast the sea painter when the RIB is abeam of the boarding gate aft. The Sea painter takes the strain. Tiger kills the outboard engine. We are still traveling dead slow. We are towing the RIB alongside. Naturally, it snugs up against our hull from the pressure of the water flowing past. Tiger and Angie clamber back aboard, with Warren and Fred pulling and dragging them. Francine wraps them in blankets. They are soaked. Unavoidable getting drenched by spray in a small open boat in a heaving ocean. With a throttle jockey like Tiger at the helm, the RIB leaped completely out of the water at times.