# Getting Down to Work.



## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

I had just moored Début up to the main wharf in Page Pago, in American Samoa, and the crew were busy tidying up the ship ready for our inspection. Hastily turned out in my best white tropical uniform, I went to the Customs Office inside one of the transit sheds to get my inward clearance... but they didn't want to know. I think they didn't want to come out from their nice air-conditioned office, into the heat and humidity of the late afternoon. I was told to go out on anchor, then come alongside for my clearance at 8 o'clock the next morning. And that was that!
We got underway again to anchor in the middle of the harbour, and the crew moaned... one after the other. After eating only fish and rice for the last six weeks... since leaving Bora Bora... we'd all been looking forward to sitting down to steak and eggs in a fancy restaurant in the town.
Début headed down the crowded harbour, past the floating crane tied up to its buoy and the rows of yachts moored stern-to at the yacht mole. There were clusters of rusty Korean long-liners tied up to buoys, and along the fishing wharf by the two canneries on the northern side of the harbour some two hundred Korean and Taiwanese fishing-ships were rafted up together. There were even a couple of American super-seiners tied up at the Star Kist wharf. The harbour pulsated in the steamy, late afternoon heat to the beat of their generators, and a pall of exhaust smoke hung in the still air.
Pago Pago Harbour is like a giant cauldron. It was formed from the flooded crater of a not so extinct volcano when the sea broke through the outer rim on the south-east corner. Encircled by an almost vertical ridge reaching to a height of 1,800 feet, it feels like being inside a steam bath. At the eastern end of the harbour is a large table-top mountain, known affectionately by the locals as Rainmaker Mountain. It shuts out most of the breeze from the prevailing trade wind to the harbour and surrounding town.
There was hardly any room to manoeuvre, let alone swing on the cable, and the echo-sounder was still recording over a hundred feet deep. I was thinking we'd all be banging into each other if the wind changed. There wasn't even enough room to bring the ship up into the wind, so I had the anchor let go while we were still going slowly ahead, with three shackles of chain.
The party was over, and it was now time to get down to some serious work. I'd used up half my fuel since leaving Trinidad... nearly sixty tons... just steaming through the Caribbean and across the Pacific Ocean. Now I had to find some work for my ship, to replace my savings and top up the tanks with diesel-oil and lube. And Pago Pago was the best harbour in the South Seas to use as a base.
As soon as it was dark, Egon rowed over in his tiny dinghy to welcome us to the island. He'd made it all right to American Samoa, after being ordered out of Nuka Hiva once his mast was repaired... taking many months to sail alone the non-stop journey to Pago Pago in his frail craft. He'd got himself a job as a welder and fitter for a local businessman, and with some of his earnings had brought us a case of cold beer.
After getting my inward customs clearance the next morning, many of the crew moved off the ship to stay at Herm and Sia's Hostel in town. Several of the malcontents had caused bad feeling on the ship, while others wanted a land-base to explore the small island before heading home to their families. With only a skeleton crew on board, I moved Début off the wharf, to re-anchor her out in the harbour again.

Lorraine couldn't drink alcohol in the public bars, as she was under the legal age limit, so I took her to the bar at Herm and Sia's Hostel in town to relax for a while.
"What a lovely old colonial-style hotel!" I exclaimed, looking around the main lounge. "It's right out of Somerset Maugham. I wonder if it was the guest-house in 'Rain.'
The light breeze, scented with hibiscus and frangipani blossom, filtered through the lattice-work walls, and the room was spacious and airy. The cane furnishings were old and well used, but the place had an elegance of past colonial splendour.
The roofs of the small town lay spread out below us, and the sunlight sparkled on the calm water of the busy harbour. From this vantage point, it appeared bright and clean... the squalor of humanity being hidden from view. The small, red cable-car hung on its drooping wire as it slowly made its way to the ridge on the far rim of the crater.
We took our seats, and I ordered drinks from the large Samoan waiter. Despite his size, he spoke in falsetto with a very girlish lisp when he introduced himself as Rosie, and his motions were very effeminate. He was obviously a homosexual. To the amusement of Lorraine, he held my hand when I paid for our drinks and called me 'dear.' He had an entourage of young boys, who likewise all wore lava-lava and fussed around with the other guests.
"This place is crawling with fruits!" I laughed. "It's nearly as bad as Tahiti " I clapped my hands, thinking about it. "It must be the heat, or something in the air."

A few days after our arrival, after I'd done my shopping at Reid's Supermarket, I went into the Seaside Garden Club for a few beers and to see my new drinking mates. I could only make out shapes when I entered the bar, as it was so dark inside... the only light coming through the rear windows. The window area was just wire mesh, to allow in fresh air and keep out undesirables. I put down my groceries and sat at one of the tables overlooking the harbour.
Upu came up to me with a bright smile on her face. "Hello, Dick," she greeted me. "Would you like a large Vailima?"
"Yes, sweetheart, it was hot outside." I wiped my brow with the back of my hand before replacing my plattered Panama hat. "Do you still love me?" I asked her.
"Oh, yes, as long as you don't tell my boyfriend." She cheekily smiled at me. "There are some people waiting for you over there." She pointed to the rear of the bar.
I looked up as she went to the counter to fetch my order, her thongs flip-flopping on the polished vinyl-tiled floor. I made out the silhouette of two men and a very large fat woman coming towards me.
"How are you, Dick?" one of the men asked.
"Bloody ding dong! Andy. How are you? You made it all right, then?" I stood and shook his hand. "Alan, how are things? Sue, still as pretty as a picture. Take a seat... what are you all drinking?"
"Beer for us. Sue's on rum and Coke."
Upu returned to the table and set my bottle and a clean glass on two fresh beer mats. I gave her the new order, and she returned to the bar-counter.
"Vailima! What's this beer like?" Andy asked as he read the label.
"Better than the American gnats-pee that you two are drinking," I laughed out. "It's brewed under licence from Becks in Apia. The Krauts know how to make a good drop of beer!"
"I like the size of the bottles... one and a half pints, by the look of it."
" Seven hundred and fifty mills." I looked at Andy and pointed out the volume on the label. "When did you get in?"
"Lunch time. We've only just got cleared inwards and anchored."
Sue sipped at her glass. She must be going on for 300 pounds since I last saw her, and her old man, Alan, was still as thin as a chip. I'd once seen her in Tahiti sit down with a box of a dozen decorated cream cakes... the sort middle-aged ladies like to eat with their friends at coffee mornings... and scoff the lot, one after the other without even taking a break. Andy had told me it was her daily ritual.
"So, how's the little sailboat?" I asked Andy.
"Holding together, just. If it wasn't for these sails you traded with Alan, we wouldn't have made it. Talk about pulling them up as fast as they were falling down. What a lash-up!"
"I'm glad they came in useful," I told him. "How did it go in Tahiti at the shipyard?"
"Great! Alan and me both had jobs for as long as we wanted, but once we'd enough bucks together, we got out." He shook his head in dismay. "What a bloody place... dirt, noise and traffic! Ruddy Frogs! Rekus will be here in a couple of weeks... he's had enough. He only stayed on a bit longer because he's looking after someone's yacht... free board and lodging. He has a lift jacked up on another yacht."
Sue looked down at my box of groceries by the side of my chair. "Dick, where did you do your shopping?" she asked, intently trying to see what I'd bought.
"Reid's Supermarket... the big blue wooden building next door."
"Come on, Alan, finish your beer." She stood up ready to leave. "You don't expect me to carry in the heat, do you?"
He swilled off his glass. "Coming, dear." He raised his eyes in exasperation. "See you, Dick. It was nice meeting you again." He looked at Andy, enquiringly. "Will we see you later?"
"Come and have a feed on Début," I told him, slapping him on the shoulder. "You can crash out in your old cabin and stir up a few ghosts."
"Cheers, I'd love to." He looked towards Alan. "I'll stay on Début. I'll be over to see you first thing tomorrow to collect my gear."
"Okay. Bye." He scurried off after Sue's waddling form.
"Cow!" Andy swore. "She's always bleating on that she doesn't have any money, but stuffs her face every minute she's on the shore."
"So you said in Tahiti. Are you getting off their boat?" I asked him. "You can always come back on Début."
"I might take you up on it for a coupe of nights. I want to fly down to New Zealand and hitch-hike from top to bottom... and then the same with Ozzie, but from east to west." He looked at me for a moment. "How many are on board Début now?"
"Just me and Siggy, and the bear of course."
"All gone?" He looked up with some surprise.
I nodded.
"All of them... even Lorraine?"
"She was the last to leave. Flew back to Cairns a couple of weeks ago."
"Bloody roll on! What are you going to do now?"
"I've got Siggy and Egon. You never met him, he's moored alongside."
"That funny little orange Ferro-boat with a junk rig? Does that thing sail?"
"According to Egon, sideways, backwards and around in circles. Every which way but forward. I'll have an engineer when Rekus arrives, and I can always hire a couple of yachties for fifty bucks a day if I need extra crew."

I entered the cool, dark, air-conditioned interior of the Bamboo Room after collecting my mail at the Post Office. Taking the first delicious pull from my glass of Vailima beer, I flicked through the letters and noticed a light blue business envelope from San Francisco. It was from a Mary Crowley, who ran a yacht charter business on the west coast of the United States... Ocean Voyages. A couple, who I'd made friends with in French Polynesia, were staying at her place in Sausalito. They were signing off as crew from the Taiyo.
The Taiyo was a brigantine, chartering out of Papeete Harbour, in Tahiti. She had run aground at the entrance of Cook's Bay in Moorea, and had been badly damaged by the government tug in getting her off the reef. She needed major shipyard repairs, so the couple had flown to San Francisco to see Mary, as she was the agent for the ship.
While they were there, Silk and Boyd Shipping from Rarotonga decided to back out of a deal they'd made with Mary, to supply a cargo ship to carry a group of elderly American adventure-tourists for Goodtravel Tours around the remote and exotic Northern Cook Islands. She was desperate, as the charter would begin in a months time. Terry had told her about Début, and she'd decided to write to me.
Through the computers of Pan Am, she'd managed to trace my ship to Pago Pago. She'd written, offering me the contract, and for me to telephone her collect at her office in Sausalito. When I got through to her, I immediately accepted the deal, and we made arrangements for her to fly down to American Samoa to look over my ship.

I knew it was her as soon as she got out of the taxi in front of the Seaside Garden Club. I'd chosen my seat at the table facing inwards, so I could see through the dark interior of the bar and out of the front windows. I excused myself from my friends and went out to meet her. After shaking her hand and greeting her, I brushed her lips with mine and relieved her of her suitcase. She was short, with a full, firm figure, and her brown hair was caught by a scarlet ribbon tied in a bow at the nape of her neck. All their eyes were on her as I introduced her to the gang seated around the table.
The subject of accommodation had never been raised. At the end of our meal on board Début, I just picked up her suitcase and said goodnight to Siggy and Egon. I led her through the darkened ship to the wheel-house, and on through to my cabin.
When we walked hand in hand into the Seaside Garden Club the next day, she was slightly self-conscious at their curious stares, as she knew all the crowd at the table would guess we'd become lovers. She smiled at them, glowing with inner happiness, and had that special aura of a woman who'd just been loved... as indeed she had.
We spent the next two days playing at being tourists... I took Mary around the sights and shopping for Samoan souvenirs. We tried out many of the restaurants and bars dotted around the small town, but always ended up at the Seaside Garden Club to drink with my expatriate friends before returning to the ship. We were content just to be together. We both realised that our time was limited, so enjoyed each other to the full. There would never be any romantic love between us, but a deep, lasting friendship.

At 1020 hours on 1st July, 1981, Egon finally broke out the anchor, which had become stuck in the goo at the bottom of the harbour. It came out tangled in a nest of discarded Korean long-line, and dripped foul-smelling black ooze back into the water. As Début steamed eastward down the harbour, the paint-work of her wheel-house and accommodation-block gleamed white in the morning sun. Her hull was still rusty, but nobody ever looked at that. It was the wheel-house and the white funnel, with its red hand in the OK sign that caught the eye.
The white flash on each side of her forward whale-back had been repainted, and the after whale-back also sported a coat of white gloss. Her name and the port of Grimsby were freshly cut in with pillar-box red. No Grimsby trawler worth her salt would ever dream of putting to sea without her white flashes given a quick lick of paint to catch the eye.
I hit the air horn to wake up Pago Pago and let them all know that Début was leaving on her first charter. The deep blast echoed and re-echoed around the town, trapped between the sheer walls of the crater. Once we'd passed the massed ranks of rusty fishing-ships on the cannery wharves... some up to twelve abreast out into the arbour... I rang the telegraph for Full Ahead. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## Satanic Mechanic (Feb 23, 2009)

No One Died!!!!!!!!


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For the Satanic Mechanic.*

Hi, Satanic Mechanic, good to hear from you, and I hope you enjoyed reading this thread, along with all the other threads I have posted. I can consider myself lucky for having been the captain of my own ships for twenty six years all over the world without losing any of my crew to death by any reason. I had two divers that had the first sign of the bends, and they had to be sent straight down again to the maximum depth of their dive to go through the complete decompression routine, as we did not have a decompression chamber on the ship.
There were three girls who were on board my ships, one who was drowned in the Tasman Sea on her yacht when it founded in a storm on route to Sydney from Auckland. She was an American, and her name was Kim.
There was a French girl on the Norwegian yacht, Artemis, that I towed through the Suez Canal. Look for her thread under Lydia. Her boyfriend, and the father of her child, reported that they were attacked by pirates in the South China Sea, and she was blown overboard by a burst of automatic gunfire. My later Norwegian crew member, Big-Anna, said it had been seen in Norway that the boyfriend had killed her over an argument about their child and blamed it on pirates. During my discussions with Lydia in my wheel-house during our transit of the Suez Canal I am inclined to agree with her.
The third girl, Marianne, a Canadian, worked on board Début as our babysitter while we were on the Heraclitus salvage operation in Asau, in Savaii Island, in Western Samoa.She was sailing around the world on her yacht with her cousin, Brent. They were actually brother and sister, and were secretly living together as a couple. Because of an argument they had the last night they spent on Début, because Brent had gone on the 'sacrifice table' in the mess-room with Francine during a crazy party, it is believed that he murdered her and dumped her body overboard during their voyage to Wallis Island. All three of these girls were 23 years old when they were on board my ships, although spread over seven years all over the world.
The only other member of my crew who died while at sea was my steward, Siggy. He had joined my ship in St. Barts in the Caribbean and asked me if he could work his passage home to Grenada, as he had been kicked off the yacht he was working on and had been living on the beach for several weeks. He had liked the life on board my ship, and had crewed on board her for three years. While we were in Pago Pago, he met and fell in love with a Samoan girl. He left my ship to marry her, and they had a tribe of mixed race children between them. For some strange reason, he went back to sea as deck crew on a super-seiner and was lost overboard during fishing operations off the coast of New Guinea. He joined my crew when he was nineteen, and left when he was also 23 years old. All of my crew treasure our memories of Siggy, and the excellent service he gave as our cook and my steward.
Considering that we were engaged in diving and salvage operations... both very dangerous pursuits... I must consider myself extremely lucky not to have lost any of my crew while serving on board my ships. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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