Wetherhorn

In a previous post I told about being aground because of the captain/ This time there was some damage, but no one was hurt. It was also purely the fault of the captain, and no one else.

The story started with our ship being one of two oilers supporting combined exercises between the US Navy and several South American navies. The ships involved were all in the Caribbean, and we were on our way to Guantanamo, Cuba when we were called. The other oiler had broken a wire support for a hose while refueling another ship.  The wire and drifted aft and become entangled in her screws. With her maneuverability being limited by this unfortunate occurrence she had put in to San Juan, Puerto Rico. There was a dry dock there where she could have the wire removed. But she could not be docked while her tanks were still full of fuel oil. She was alongside her, and transfer her cargo to our empty tanks.

I was navigating, and as I had never been in San Juan before, I carefully read the Coastal Pilot Book about what to expect. There is a strong current that runs parallel to the shore. The pilot book said to approach from some distance away, and turn and run into the entrance as fast as was reasonable to avoid the current pushing you onto the rocky shore around the harbor mouth.  That was what I did. Later we heard the other oiler had come in much closer to the shore and had required the help of a tug to keep from running aground. The next part of the operation went according to plan. We tied up to the anchored oiler and began transferring fuel. She got lighter and rose higher in the water, while we became heavier, and sank down deeper.

When the transfer was done, it was time to leave. As senior watch officer I had assigned one of our warrant officers as officer of the deck. I would be navigating. When I came to the bridge, Mister M (obviously not his real name), the warrant officer, was nowhere to be seen. I asked the quartermaster of the watch about this. He said the Captain had ordered Mister M to go to the engine room for something. He, the captain, had the watch and the conn.

“Did you log this in the quartermasters notebook?”, I asked.

“Yes,Sir.”, he replied, and showed me the entry in his logbook.he tug

Meanwhile, the captain was on the wing of the bridge chatting with the commanding officer of the other ship. The tugs arrived, and I listened to their conversation.

“The tugs are here.” said the other skipper.

“I don’t need them.” responded our captain. “I can go out without them.”

“Don’t worry, Charlie,” he continued, “I won’t crunch you.”

The captain orders one third ahead on the out board screw and two thirds astern on the inboard shaft. Normally that would twist us out and back us away from the other ship. But that would only be true if they were tied to a pier. At anchor, only the bow of the other ship was held in place. There was nothing holding the stern. As our ship began to pull away there was suction between the two ships as water tried to fill in the place where our hull had been. The stern of the second oiler was pulled toward our ship. As we backed away the overhang of our bow slid along the after deck of their ship and sliced the fueling hoses into pieces. Then it cut into the after structure of the second oiler and made a long, ugly, gash through the shower rooms and after berthing compartment of their ships. We were lucky. No one was injured.

It should be clear from the above narrative that the use of this accident was completely avoidable. Had the tug been used to hold the stern of the other ship, nothing would have gone wrong. This time, it wasn’t just the ego and image of our captain that was damaged. But at least there were no personnel casualties.