11. He’s thought a boatman.

The two climbed down from the boat deck and up the side of the barge once more, the lad following Bobby. Once on the barge, the lad did just as Bobby was doing looking under the containers for deck lines. The containers were secured atop large beams that held them a couple of feet off of the deck and the lines had been thrown under them for safe keeping. They were thrown very far under them and made off using a variety of techniques so that freeing each line became an exercise in belly crawling and puzzle solving. By the time they had six lines pulled out and ready for the dock, they were both brown on their bellies, chests, and thighs. The lad started to sneeze from all the dust and his nose was running profusely. Bobby walked up to him and he could see a trail of snot and dust running down his upper lip, like that of a school boy at play.

They had a few minutes to before they touched and the lad was able to observe the dock. It was a typical pier on the naval base like he had been on years ago. There were many people moving around and watching with great interest as they closed the gap between the barge and its berth. There were men in uniform and some in nice civilian clothes conversing. There were men in hard hats and work boots, obviously preparing to take the lines. There were also navy sailors in there uniforms and blue hard hats standing by with heavy equipment to handle the containers. The lad made eye contact with one of the well dressed civilians who nodded to him. The lad nodded back and looked away. “I wonder if he knows that I’m not part of the regular crew around here?” he thought. Never mind that. He looked over just in time to see Bobby working the first line.

Bobby had been holding a line at his shoulder for a minute or two and after a quick shout from one of the hard hats on the pier, he threw it with the power of a shot-putter and the eye fell cleanly around the bollard where the dock man was pointing. The lad was impressed. That line had flown for about 15 feet and hit its mark. If he was expected to do this, there would be some great entertainment. He saw Bobby make the line off to a cleat near his feet and then look up. Bobby pointed to somewhere behind the lad so he turned and saw one of the hard hated dock men standing next to a bollard nearby.

The lad immediately understood that he was to catch a line on that bollard but was he to do it like Bobby had? His stomach knotted up and his heart was beating a little faster. He collected up the eye and an arm load of the line in an attempt to look like he might know what he was doing. In the time he took to stall, the barge had already bumped into the heavy timbers of the pier. He swayed a bit and looked up to see the dock man reaching over to him. “Save your arm,” he shouted, “I’ll take that for you.” Now all the lad had to do was swing the eye over the man. What a relief.

The man on the dock laid the eye over the bollard and the lad made off to the nearest cleat, taking in as much slack as he could. There were four more lines to be put out and he followed the directions and pointing of Bobby and the dock men to get them all leading in the proper direction. They were so close to the dock that the lad was able to hand the eyes over as he had his first line, but he didn’t feel so bad about it watching Bobby doing the same. It wasn’t long before the barge was secure to the pier and the men on the dock started climbing over to the barge, looking at container markings and consulting clip boards. Some were customs officials and some were naval officers. All had an interest in the new arrival.

Bobby waved to the lad and motioned toward the boat. It was time to go. As the lad was making his way to the end of the containers, one of the dock workers called over, “Thanks for the help. You guys do some good work.” The lad didn’t really know what to say back so he just smiled and gave a thumb up to the fellow. Could it be that this guy thought he was a full time boatman? The lad shrugged and continued his way to the boat. When he got to the other side of the barge, Bobby was already aboard and motioned him to start taking line off. They started at the stern, then took in the bow line, and held the first line up, the spring line, for last. Then James eased the stern around so that the highest part of the bow was against the barge; the lad stepped easily over to the boat. The tug backed away and spun about to head home.

The tug’s engine grew gradually louder as it came up to speed. The two slouched in the galley settees and smoked, taking a break from the activity. After their cigarettes were smoked and some iced tea was downed, Bobby informed the lad that the skipper was funny about keeping the boat clean. Before they got back to the dock, the trash should be emptied and the wheelhouse needed to be cleaned. Booby took the wheelhouse and the lad gathered all the trash. While he was at it, he gave the galley a good wipe down and a sweeping. Before long, the engines came down and the little tug began to turn into the short channel that lead to the yard.

When they got to the dock, the lad knew which line to stand by. Bobby hopped up to the dock barge and caught the first line for the lad. With his new knowledge, the lad went straight to the bow next. After the head line was secure, he move to the stern and threw the last line up to Bobby who dropped it onto a cleat and then motioned the lad not to make it off yet. The engines came to life and wheel wash surged off to the starboard side of the tug. The stern slowly moved toward the dock, the head line creaking and groaning in protest. When the motion stopped, Bobby swirled a finger to let the lad know he could make off the line now. As soon as this was done, the engines relaxed and the stern eased out a little into the line. The boat was well fast to the dock barge.

Bobby came back to the boat and headed for the engine room. The main engines stopped one after the other. Then the generator stopped. The boat was dead quiet except for the sound of James gathering his gear from the wheelhouse. Then came the sound of Bobby opening the forward door to the forepeak and throwing the end of the shore power cable out onto the deck. The lad walked up and grabbed the end of the cable, continuing his walk up the bow and onto the dock. The cable got heavier as more was pulled to the dock and soon he found the big receptacle where he plugged it in. The tug’s lights came on and she was ready for the night.

James walked straight up to the lad extending his hand. “Thanks for you help today. We’ll be seeing you around.”

“You think so?” asked the lad.

“Oh, sure. You’ll be a boatman. Take care, now.” He walked off to his truck leaving the lad to stand there and think for a second or two.

“He thinks I’ll be a boatman.”

The lad walked up to the office and stuck his head in. Sharon, the young lady at the desk was there now. She saw him a smiled broadly. “Well, hey there. Heard you had a good day. Can you come in tomorrow? We’re going to need another hand.”

“Sure.” The lad added, “I can come in any day you need. If you’ll have me.”

“We can always use a good boatman around here,” she said.

He smiled back and said, “Tomorrow then. Thanks. See ya.” She lifted a hand to wave and he headed to his car with a snap in his step.

Good news for two days in a row. They think he’s going to be a boatman.

10. He sizes up an ocean barge.

After a morning of shifting little deck barges, and spending most of his afternoon in a noisy little tug, the lad needed to have a seat in the quiet and relax. His recent experience making up to the barge he was now riding had shown him that he could gain the skills of the tugboat craft and his confidence was seen in the relaxed posture he held as he leaned back against a container, smoking his cigarette. Bobby was sitting nearby smoking, as well, manipulating the cigarette with his damaged fingers, blowing smoke out forcefully as he too relaxed.

By now the sun was ahead of the tow. The seat they had chosen was shady and the cool breeze from the water was giving the lad chills as it blew across his sweaty t-shirt. He was sweating too. He looked down and realized that, with the exception of his shoulders, the entire shirt was soaked. There was a coating of rust on the wet material. His pants were soaked on the thighs where the wet lines had been leaning on him and they too had a large rust stain on each leg. He would love to be headed towards a shower now but the barge still had to be delivered to its berth. His buddy wasn’t saying much, so he thought he’d kill some time on his own. Slowly and with a bit of effort, he stiffly stood up and stretched. He wanted to explore the barge.

He walked a few steps to the starboard side. There was his tug, still made up and motoring along at a slow speed. The engines weren’t too loud now. He could see James’s feet sticking out from the pilot house window. Obviously James was relaxing a little too. As he looked down the barge, he observed that it was about 150 feet long so he took a quick glance to compare the breadth, about 50 feet as far as he could guess. The containers were stacked five long by four wide, and piled up four containers high. There was just enough room for a man to walk along the edge with one hand on the containers to steady himself, so the lad started walking toward the bow. On his way by the little tug, he nodded to James who was relaxing in the wheelhouse. James touched two fingers to his brow and swung them out as if to salute to the lad. The lad continued his way up to the bow of the barge where he found a large wall of metal about five feet high. It was angled forward and reinforced from behind with heavy angle iron. Here is where the navigation lights were mounted, their heavy batteries and boxes chained to the rear of the big sea-break, as this was called. Behind the sea-break was also a wide variety of scrap iron, old shackles, and pieces of odd rope and cable that had survived the transit across hundreds of miles of open ocean.

He walked around to the forward side of the sea-break. It was here that he was able to see the big towing gear that connected the barge to the tug. At each forward corner of the barge was attached a large chain with links as big as his flattened hand. These two chains were many feet long and met at a point well ahead of the barge, joined at its center line by a large shackle. These were the bridles. From the point where the two chains met, the shackle connected them to a bit of the same chain, but shorter in length than the bridles. That was the pendant. Ahead of the pendant was a large piece of white synthetic rope, with heavy metal thimbles spliced into each end. One end was shackled to the barge’s chain arrangement and the other end was shackled to the towing cable of the bigger tug. It was the thickest line he had ever seen, every bit as big around as his thigh. This was the line that was designed to absorb the shock caused by a tow straining against its cable in a high sea. It was good that he came up here. He now had a good idea of what a towing gear looked like when it was set up and he committed the picture to memory.

As he crossed the bow, he stepped carefully around the sea-break. It wasn’t too difficult to imagine your own body swept under the bow wave of the barge in the event of a misstep. He was watching his path carefully and was surprised when he looked up to see the beaches and houses of his own neighborhood. This excited him. Wouldn’t it be great if his wife could see him as she walked their dogs along the beach? He would love for her to see him walking along the moving barge as if he’d been towing all his life. She had supported him in this career choice so far and he wanted her to feel like the time and investment was worth it. He searched the beach line as if he could actually see her at that distance. Of course there was no chance of that, but he felt good for looking.

A hand gripped the top of his shoulder and he turned with a start to see Bobby. “If you aren’t too busy site seeing, we have to get ready to put this thing to the dock. We’re not far now.”

The lad frowned at the sarcastic remark but nodded and began to make his way to the tug without waiting for Bobby. What a fuckin’ smart ass. It’s not like anything else was going on. He was thinking he would say something but decided to leave it alone. He made his way to the edge of the barge where he was standing next the wheel house. James was standing up waiting for them. Bobby walked up beside him and James began to outline how they would be helping the little tug. He had been on the radio with the other tug’s captain and they came up with a plan to get the heavily loaded barge to the dock as easily as possible. When he explained it, the lad actually understood what was going to happen and kept up with the conversation.

They approached a very busy area around the military docks. The bigger tug had shortened her cable and the lad was impressed when her crew slipped the towing shackle and the towing arrangement flew over the bulwarks and into the harbor with a great splash. The bigger tug then began to maneuver around the bow of the barge. James got the attention of his crew and the two began to take in the lines, one at a time, in the opposite order that they went out. This time the lad went up to the barge. He boarded the little tug again when James nosed the high bow up to the stern of the barge. Bobby stepped up on the bow fender with an eye of the head line coiled on his arm. With one heavy throw, he lassoed the nearest cleat and hopped down from the bow backwards, making the line off to the H-bitt as soon as his feet hit the deck. The lad was impressed with this bit of tugboat seamanship.

Bobby told the lad that he should get off of the bow since the tug would be maneuvering on a head line. They went up one deck and sat with their backs against the pilot house, smoking. Bobby was fairly disinterested in the action but the lad was watching and listening to every move. He looked to the bow and saw a man climb from the bow of the bigger tug and disappear through the containers. He heard a lot of chatter on the radio and then a single blast from the tug’s whistle. The engines changed speed and the little tug eased toward the barge, bumping lightly but enough to make the deck shift under him. Another blast of the whistle and the engines increased their pitch, working harder into the barge.

Toot! The engines slowed slightly. TOOOT! The engines came to idle and the lad could feel that the propellers had stopped. Toot! Toot! The engines came to life and the little backed slowly against its head line, the line squeaking and popping under the strain.

The whole scene created an orchestra of whistles, engines, the sound of rubber grinding and squealing against heavy steel, and the occasional sounds from the head line as it protested against the work asked of it. Both tugs were hard at work moving their own end of the barge according to the directions of the man from the bigger tug. The air was thick with the acrid smell of oily diesel smoke. The water was churning and swirling around the entire side of the barge, trapping flotsam and thick foam in its many whirlpools and slip streams as tons of water were shoved about by the powerful propellers. It was hard to believe that this much work could be completed with the very little activity of the crews from the tugs. That would change shortly. A barge can’t tie itself up.

Bobby flicked his cigarette butt into the moving water and started to stand. “Time to get over there." We’ve got to be close to the dock by now.”

The lad stood up and followed Bobby. He hoped his day was soon over. He was beginning to feel the time with every heavy step but he would continue to work his first barge. That, he would do with purpose.

9. He gets “made up”.

The noise they had just heard was the sound of the little cable coming apart. When wire rope parts, it can make a sound like that of a shot gun firing. This was the case here. After Bobby’s initial entertainment was over, he motioned the lad to follow him out the stern. As he expected, the cable was hanging over the stern, limp, slightly swaying as the tug’s quick water passed over it. He went to the controls, set up and began to pull the cable in with the winch. It wasn’t long before the frayed and broken end of the cable was on deck.

The lad was studying the cable end when James shouted and waved Bobby up the wheel house. The lad was left alone with the cable for a few minutes. Soon Bobby returned and began to speak. The lad didn’t hear him though for as he began to speak, the little tug’s engines raised their pitch and the tug started into a hard turn. As it heeled over to meet the turn, water was forced across the stern and wet the boots of the two hands. They retreated to the next deck up where it was dry.

“We’re gonna make up,” said Bobby. He saw that this meant nothing to the lad so he explained further, “We’re going to put three lines up and then push the barge along to help the bigger tug along.” He added, “That’s what we should have done in the first place,” with a confident tone, self-confirming his expertise in tugs and towing. He went on to point to the places where the lines would be placed to make up to the container barge. The lad listened and although he didn’t fully understand the jargon of Bobby, he had an idea that he’d be able to keep up when the task started.

The little tug had come about full circle and was running with the barge, maintaining a wide gap between the two. James was staring a point on the barge as he used throttles handles and the wheel to guide the little tug in. Slowly it drifted in towards the barge. The closer it got, the louder the sound of the water between them was, rushing through the gap the two vessels like a raging mountain river. Before too long the suction created by the rush of water caught the little tug and it moved, with some force, the last foot it needed to touch the barge. With the sounds of thick, wet, rubber squeaking and grinding against the flat steel hull, the tires and fenders of the little tug hit and it came to a sudden lurching stop. The lad felt the deck shifting under his feet.

Bobby was on the bow with a wooden ladder. The lad went to him to help position it from the tug’s deck to the edge of the barge’s deck. When it was firmly in place, Bobby held onto it with both hands and stared at the lad. The lad wasn’t sure what to do now and looked quizzically into the eyes of Bobby, only inches from his own. He suddenly realized what was supposed to happen. As he made his realization, Bobby confirmed it by pointing up the ladder with one hand and talking loudly, but unintelligibly. The lad could barely hear him over the din of the rushing water and the in-close cacophony of the tug’s fenders, but it was obvious that he was to climb up the ladder, across the whitewater void, and onto the barge.

Bobby leaned in and yelled into his ear, “I need to make the lines up. You just put them on the cleats where I show you.” The lad was now shocked. He shook his head. Bobby looked at him sternly. Then he looked up to the wheelhouse. He could see that James was being patient now but that patience would wear thin quickly. He looked back at the lad and the face he was told him that he couldn’t push a green hand so hard. He made his decision and started up the ladder.

Bobby was on the barge in no time and yelled down pointing to a line on deck. Waving his hand upward, he told the lad to send up the first line. The lad quickly made a messenger to the large eye and tossed up to Bobby who dropped it easily onto a large cleat some feet back. Then he pointed to the quarter bitt and twirled his finger so that the lad could see where to make off. He did this easily enough and then Bobby walked up to the bow of the tug and pointed down to the line on deck, again waving up. The lad passed this line and Bobby walked forward a few feet and dropped that eye onto another cleat. He walked back to the lad and yelled out through cupped hands, “Dip it!”

The lad looked puzzled.

“DIP! IT!” Bobby yelled again.

The lad knew nothing about dipping a line and Bobby was obviously getting angry for this is why he wanted to stay on deck.

“Drop the line,” he heard a loud voice from say from behind him, turning to see James standing above him in front of the wheel house. “Just drop it. In front of the bitt,” he yelled again. The lad did that.

“Now. Reach under and pull it under, back to you.” The lad did this. Now he was holding a loop of line.

“Good. Take that bight and push it over the top of the bitt there,” he said pointing to the left upright.” The lad saw what he was after and dropped the line over the bitt.

James smiled and gave the lad a thumb up signal. “Now make it off on the other end,” he yelled and then retreated back to his controls in the wheelhouse.

The lad looked up to Bobby who pointed toward the stern in exaggerated motions. He made his way back there quickly. He automatically reached for the line on deck when he got there. He had already figured out how the make up was supposed to work. After he passed the line up to Bobby, he waited to hear where to make it off. Bobby pointed to the capstan and made circles in the air with his finger. For a second the lad hesitated but then he jumped into action. He was going to figure how to run it right there, right then.

It looked easy enough. Pull this thing out to make sure the drum didn’t turn. There’s the button. Was the power on? He tested it. Yes. Bobby had left the right generator running. It turned. He went for his line and started to run it around the little capstan on the towing winch. Bobby was yelling. He turned around and saw him pointing to a spot on the stern. He had forgotten to lead the line to a cleat on the deck for a better pulling point. This wasn’t a big deal and he corrected it quickly. Then he put another turn on the capstan and turned it on. The line was pulled in and was coming tight. He controlled the amount of pull and turned to Bobby who held up a fist when the line was good and tight. Reaching for the stop button, he quit his heaving and then made the line off to the bitt behind him.

He looked up and Bobby was calmly walking away. Figuring the job must be finished now, he walked his way to the galley door, stopping before he went inside to see Bobby climbing down. They met in the galley and Bobby suggested that they go up to the barge and look around. The lad felt like making the climb now that the tug was secured to the barge.

He climbed up and walked around the containers carefully. He went forward to see the bigger tug at the far end of her towing cable. He looked at the containers piled four high and lashed down with heavy rods. When he got to the stern, he sat down on the deck and lit a cigarette. Bobby emerged from around the corner of the containers and sat down beside the lad, lighting a cigarette.

It was quiet back here and they smoked in silence watching the wake of the barge. The lad smiled to himself. He knew how to make up. For now, he was a little more equal to the man beside him. He knew there was more to learn, but this was still a satisfying moment. The bay water hissed by the moving barge for a while as he enjoyed the moment.

8. He makes his first tow.

The lad found Bobby in the galley, reading an old magazine while having a cigarette. He told him the captain needed to see him. Bobby kept reading. He made sure to tell him that the bigger boat was in sight. The reason for the summons didn’t change Bobby’s indifference but at least it got him to move a little. When the lad was sure that Bobby was going to get up, he left the galley to get another look at the bigger boat from the bow. He sat on the H-bitt with his feet up on the cap rail of the bulwarks. The little tug was small enough that he was very comfortable in this position, with his elbows resting on his knees. He lit a cigarette and looked out down the bay.

He could see the bigger boat clearly. It was coming into view more and more each minute and soon he could see a group of figures on the bow of her, grouped around a set of steps that led to the pilot house. He soon realized that the tug was being followed by a large object. It was their tow, a barge stacked with shipping containers but from that distance it looked like a big box made out of multi-colored children’s blocks. He was amazed at the size of the tow compared to the dwarfed tug. Bobby walked up behind him, breaking his concentration.

“Vacation’s over. Eh?” he said. “James wants to try to tow her in. I told him it won’t work but he isn’t listening. He thinks he’s on a big ocean rig. That little tow winch doesn’t do this stuff. Does he think I’ve never done this kind of work before? I think I have. He’ll see.”

Bobby was rambling. The lad didn’t care how they helped the tug and tow in; he wasn’t that experienced yet. But he didn’t care to hear Bobby complaining about the upcoming work. He was ready for anything at this point and didn’t need to hear anything that would reduce his excitement. He changed the subject.

“What should I be doing now?” he asked Bobby.

“Come on back to the winch. We’ll have to take in the pushing gear and shorten the tow cable,” replied Bobby, waving his hand towards him as he walked aft along the waist.

They got to the winch and the lad watched as Bobby moved levers and rods to set the little winch up for retrieval. It wasn’t really a towing winch. It was more like the deck winches that the lad had used during his stick shipping days when he operated yard and stay rigs. The little winch only stood about three feet tall and had a simple braking lever with pins to dog the drum in place when securing it. The buttons to operate it were simple too- two directions and a stop button. Bobby pointed to the buttons and the lad mashed the one to bring the cable in. The drum turned slowly while Bobby guided the little tug’s thin cable onto the drum as evenly as he felt like. In just a minute or so, the eye was on deck.

The lad stopped the drum and the two of them turned to see the bigger tug almost next to them running at the same speed. As James eased the little tug closer, the figures on the bow became clearer. There were three of them. One was a young man with a map of curly blonde hair blowing around in the bay breeze. He waved a quick wave to Bobby who threw his head back in response. The other was a thin man with long graying hair, a gray beard, and little sunglasses. He was dressed a bit shabbily and stooped when he stood up. The lad thought of a marooned character from a pirate novel when he saw him. The third man couldn’t be missed. He looked angrily at Bobby. He looked so angry that the lad could see the creases in his forehead as he scowled at his crew mate. He was a fat man. His round torso supported by skinny legs, he was bobbing slightly and holding on to the railing of the ladder, as if he would jump to the deck of the little tug. Why was he so angry at Bobby? Even his free hand was balled up into a fist.

“Look at those clowns,” Bobby huffed. “It’s a wonder they could make a trip that far away and come back in one piece. Who knows what ‘Mr. Mechanic’ did to the engine?” He was on another rant. He went on for another minute or so about each of the characters on the bow, giving the lad a quick run-down of their individual traits and faults. It was clear to the lad that if he listened to anything Bobby said that these men were approximately worthless as boatmen. He certainly wouldn’t judge. At this point in his career, he knew less than anyone on the scene and his main concern was to try and look competent in front of even this lot.

Now they were close enough to the bigger boat that James was hanging out the pilot house window talking loudly to the captain of the bigger boat. When the brief conversation was over, he nodded to Bobby who turned toward the group on the bigger boat and waved his hand inward, signaling them to throw a line over.

“No!” shouted the fat engineer. “You send your line over.”

“Fuck that!” shouted Bobby. “We’re here to help you. Not do all the work!”

“Just throw a line over you lazy little bastard!”

“No! I’m not pulling your heavy-ass line over. This cable is smaller than your deck lines,” he loudly explained. “You can’t pull on a little……..”

“Hey!” shouted James. “Just send the line over. We don’t have all morning to listen to you guys fight this out.” All eyes were on him and he didn’t move a muscle. It was clear that he was serious.

Bobby looked at James for a moment and then bent to pick up his messenger line. The lad could see he wasn’t happy but it was hard to tell if Bobby was acting out of obedience or resignation. The messenger line was thrown across the choppy void and the fat engineer directed the blond deck hand to make it fast to the deck line. The big Dacron line was hauled across by the lad and a grumbling bobby and then laid on the stern deck of the little tug where the tow cable was made to the line with a shackle that the lad would have considered large. With no concern for anyone around him, Bobby picked up the shackled assembly and threw it roughly over the side. The short end of cable came tight with a loud noise.

Bobby looked up to the pilot house and waved to James who had been up on the boat deck at the stern controls watching the work. He nodded back and Bobby went to the control buttons. He let out just a bit of cable. James eased the boat over to get in front of the bigger boat. When the little tug was in position, Bobby let more cable out. James widened the distance between him and the bigger tug and Bobby filled the gap with cable. They worked together with no need to speak, each man reacting to the situation at hand as he needed. This job had been done many times before.

After the bigger tug was far enough away, James shouted down to Bobby, “Dog her down. That’ll do it.” Bobby turned the little brake wheel down and then set the pin that secured the winch’s drum into its matching holes. Everyone went to their places again, James to the pilot house and the two deck hands to the galley.

Once in place and smoking, Bobby was telling the lad how many ways this tow could turn bad; how “he would have done it.”: The speed of the tugs could be different. The weather could set waves on them and stress the cable. The bigger tug should turn off his engine and let the little tug tow. There should be a weight in the belly of the small line. The little tug’s skipper should…….

BOOM! A terrific noise was heard from the stern. Both men looked at each other, wide eyed for just a second. Then Bobby smiled from ear to ear.

7. He gets to know a little about his deck buddy.

As the little tug steamed down the bay, the routine came to a relaxing, slow pace. The two deck hands smoked and rested a little, occasionally checking on the captain to see if he needed a drink or a snack, or even a break from the wheel. They pointed out boats they liked and buildings they recognized. The conversations were fairly idle until the lad finally asked Bobby about his fingers.

“Well?” he started, “You know those cranes in the yard? That’s what done this to me. I was helping the old man do some pick-ups around the deck barges and things was going pretty well. The brakes don’t work so good on the hook cable’s brake and I had my hand on top of a post to keep my balance while I bent down to pick up a strap. The old man saw that I had the strap in hand and let the hook fall to bring it down to me so I could hook that strap up. The hook fell and hit the post that my hand was resting on. When I stood up, I saw that my finger tips were trapped under the pile of big chain links that weight the hook on the end of the cable. Lucky they didn’t pile on my whole hand.”

“Wow. You’re lucky you didn’t lose the fingers. Couldn’t the doctor do anything more for them?” asked the lad.

“Ahh!” Bobby waved the question off. “The old man’s doctors are quacks. He didn’t do a thing for it but clean it up and give me some bandages and ointment. They said I waited too long to come down there and the healing had already started this way. I was only a week late. They could have tried something else. They’re supposed to be doctors, ain’t they?”

The lad had been listening but was thinking about his own matters at the same time. He began to wonder if he were going to be safe here. He knew that a small company might not have the some kind of benefits and services, but he expected to be taken care of if he were hurt. What he really pondered was the character of the characters he would be sailing with. Again, he had some doubts about his career selection.

“I gotta know,” said the lad finally. “Why didn’t you pull your hand out when the chain started piling up on your hand?” He half expected Bobby to come back sharply in defense of his seeming lack of common sense.

“I would have, but I can’t feel ‘em no more.” Bobby wiggled his deformed fingers in the air while he said this. It was like he could show the lad how very little feeling he had in them by waving them around in front of his face.

“Ya see?” he continued, “I was out late one night and the bars closed but before they threw me out the bar maid sold me a bottle of vodka and I didn’t want anyone to see me with booze in the yard so I slid it down into the sleeve of my coat and off I went.”

He breathed, finally. Then he continued.

“I didn’t have no trouble with the locals, you know, because they couldn’t see the bottle. They’d have rolled me again if they knew I had that on me. They know I ain’t got much money that time of the week. Anyway, I got to the fence and it was no problem getting’ over it but when I jumped down, I hit the ground funny and I had to run for a bit to try and keep my balance. Well. That’s when the night went to shit. I fell down and the bottle of booze broke in my sleeve. If that weren’t bad enough, some of the glass went into my arm and I think it cut some nerves or somethin’, because I couldn’t feel my finger tips after that.”

He finished the account in a very ‘matter of factly’ way and then turned to the task of lighting another cigarette with his fingers. His hexed and jinxed fingers.

The lad was amazed. How could a guy let so much happen to him with the apathy he appeared to have for the situation. He injured himself twice. Gravely. Yet he treated it like just another bad day. Get help. Why didn’t he get some help?

Later, he went up to see James. They talked for a few minutes about idle subjects and then the lad was able to bring up the subject of Bobby. He eventually offered and opinion, “I don’t understand why people would let that happen to them. I guess the most disturbing part is how others can stand by while it happens around them.”

James looked at him and could tell that he should say something important. All he could think of was, “Look. I know it seems rough to let these guys tear themselves up like that but it doesn’t do any good to help them out too much when they won’t take the help and try to improve their situations.”

The lad stared back at him for a few seconds saying nothing. James knew he had to elaborate. “Bobby is a nice guy. He’s a good hand and the old man needs good hands. That old man lets him live on the tugs for next to nothing. He practically feeds him and does what he can to keep an eye on the guy. But all Bobby does is drink, smoke that damn crack, and mess with those ol’ black whores from outside the gate. He brings them back to the boats too. We probably lose more food to them than to Bobby.”

He concluded, “Bobby is another of the long line of hands that you’re going to see around these little outfits. They come, they work some, and then they go off to the next place to scrape out a living. You seem pretty straight up and I know you care about the guy, but you may want to keep a little room in your channel around him. Ya know? Help him the best you can, but I think it will be easier if you just keep your own job on course. That’s been my experience.”

The lad looked back at James and he could see that he was probably a pretty responsible guy. He was clean and neat in appearance. He had on good clothes for the job he was doing and for the most part he was very articulate even when speaking with his thick historic accent of the state, his home.

James broke his concentration. “There’s the bigger boat. Go get Bobby and tell him to come up. We have to make a plan for this make-up.” The lad nodded quickly many times and headed down to gather Bobby. It was time for more work in his little tug.

6. He has a meal on his new tug.

After a morning of moving barges around the lad was a little tired, not so much from physical labor, but all of the general activity and excitement had worn on him a little. He sat in the galley smoking and having a cold, incredibly sweet iced tea. The side doors were open and it was bright in there with a cool breeze blowing across the room. Bobby came in and hopped down onto the settee across from him. He had a big smile on his face and he lit a cigarette, smoking it with his funny fingers as if he was having genuine fun.

“Headed to the bay,” he said. The bigger tug lost an engine and she’s limping in with her tow.”

“What do we have to do?” asked the lad.

“We’ll problem just put up a line or two and help her in. It’ll take the strain off of her one engine. The most help we can give is when gets to the dock. Then we’ll need to do the docking since she can’t move around so easy.”

“Should we get ready?”

“You bet. We should get ready for lunch.” He found this, too, to be funny as it could be. He was laughing his cartoon character laugh the whole time he was rooting in cabinets and assembling a set of pans and a cutting board on the counter.

“What’s for lunch?”

“Hot dogs. Can you cut up some onions?”

“Sure. Point the way.”

Bobby showed the lad where the onions were stowed. They were actually beginning to grow. He moved the cutting board to the table and got a dull knife from the dish rack. They didn’t talk while the meal was prepared. The lad was concentrating on mincing the onions as fine as the dull knife would allow, and Bobby was trying to get a malfunctioning can opener to open a can of chili he had pulled from the cabinet. He succeeded in opening the can and dumped the messy contents into a small pan. Then he went to work on the can of pork and beans. Before long, the stove was alive with simmering pans of hot dogs, beans, and chili. The galley smelled like a home now.

“Why don’t-cha run up and ask James what he wants on his,” Bobby suggested.

The lad hopped right up and headed for the door. He took the few steps outside to the side ladder and scurried up it like he’s been in that boat for years. He moved forward on the boat deck and toward the pilothouse door. As he entered, he lost his train of thought for he was distracted by the array of equipment crammed into the little space.

“Hey! How’s it going?” cried James, glad to see him. “What do you think so far?”

The lad was still scanning the new surroundings and barely realized that James had spoken to him. He snapped out of it in a second or two. “It’s going pretty good so far. I like it.”

“You and Bobby getting on alright?”

“Oh, sure. He’s been a lot of help. We’re doing fine.”

“He’s an alright fellow. Just don’t develop any of his habits for complaining and laying around on the job. Just between you and me, that one.”

“Ok. I gotcha.” He had already seen that Bobby could try to hate his job if you let him talk long enough about it. “What do you want on your hot dogs?”

“Man. Hot dogs. Again. Well? I guess some onion and mustard and just a touch of relish. Bring me three? If there’s enough.”

“Plenty. I’ll be right back.” The lad headed back to the galley, unsure if the skipper was kidding or not about the hot dogs.

“And a soda if there are any,” James yelled from the door as the lad ran back to the galley.

“OK!” He yelled back over his shoulder.

When he got to the galley there was a paper plate on the table with three hot dogs on it. All three had mustard, onion, and a little relish on them. He looked at Bobby with a puzzled face. “Why bother running me around if he already knew?” he thought. Just then a hatch in the overhead opened with the sound of scraping plywood. James could see down and bobby handed him up his lunch. There was a brief discussion about the iced tea instead of sodas. The hatch closed and the skinny did a little eye rolling before he sat down to the table. With his ring finger and pinky, he handled the spoons to slather his hot dogs with chili and serve himself some beans. He began to eat with great energy. When he noticed the lad wasn’t sitting yet, he turned and looked at him. Barely able to talk with his mouth crammed full of food, he pointed to the opposite settee and spat out, “Wit. Wet num.”

The lad had to smile. He got over to his side of the galley and got a plate ready with some hot dogs and beans. He ate greedily when he realized that he had only been having coffee and cigarettes all day. Sailing down the river toward the bay on a nice summer day with a good lunch, at a good job, was making him glad he had taken this chance. He was glad to be here. There would be some down time until they got to the bigger boat. Maybe he could find out about his new crewmates.