Join me in the continuation of this sailor's tale as I describe his duties aboard the Elton Hoyt, II.

Time passed quickly, and in the spring of 1961, the sailor once again left his home in Minden City to work on the lakes. This time he would be sailing aboard the Elton Hoyt, II. (One of the newer ships on the Great Lakes, this boat was built in 1952 by Bethlehem-Sparrows Point Shipyard in Sparrows Point, MD.) The cook working on the Hoyt was simply wonderful, and after eating his first breakfast on board, the sailor knew it was going to be a great year.

Breakfast was ready at 6 AM, but it was often 6:30 AM before the deckhands made their way to the galley. Once there, the cook allowed the sailors to go back and help themselves. The deckhands prepared their own pancakes smothered in maple syrup, and they ate the leftover bacon and sausage prepared by the cook.

While the deckhand cleaned the dining room on occasion, he never ate in it. The dining room was much more luxurious than the galley, and it was reserved for the Officers, Wheelsmen and Oilers.

The galley was equipped with a television, and the sailors watched it occasionally when the reception allowed for a little more than a snowy screen. The galley had just one long table with six stools on each side and a railing around the top to prevent dishes from sliding off in rough seas.

The deckhands often worked from 7:30 AM to 11:30 AM while they were working on the lake, and they could either take a half hour or a full hour to eat their lunch. If the sailors were in port, however, they ate while they worked. The sailor preferred just taking a half hour more often than not, so he would resume his work from noon to 4 PM.

The mid-day meal was always good, and steak and hamburgers were popular fare. The sailors worked hard all morning, so it was no surprise they had hearty appetites. Supper was typically set up between 5:30 PM and 6:30 PM, but if a sailor didn't quite get his fill he could always raid the refrigerator later. Cold cut sandwiches made a great evening snack, or doughnuts and a carton of milk often hit the spot.

The company was careful not to pay too much overtime. If the Hoyt was expected to arrive in port at 5 PM, the sailors had their normal working hours to relax. This meant their work day would begin at 4 PM, getting the hatches ready for loading and unloading should the weather permit.

On one occasion when he was in port, the sailor worked 32 hours in a row. The cargo holds needed to be cleared, because they were going to be transporting a load of coal. The deckhands worked night and day around the clock until the ship was ready to go. Once the cargo holds were loaded, they had to batten down the hatches before they could retire.

Because of these long periods of work, the sailors took advantage of any free time they had available. Many of the men occupied their spare time with writing letters to their loved ones, doing their laundry or cleaning their quarters. Sometimes they would sit around and visit, enjoying a few beers or sodas while they talked. The boats weren't on the lakes for very many consecutive days, so the sailors relaxed when they could.

On one particular occasion, the Hoyt was traveling in the midst of a storm. The sailor was asked to bring coffee to the pilot house for the wheelsman and the mate. There were side tunnels on the newer ships on either side of the cargo holds, which allowed the sailors to travel from one end of the ship to the other without the sailors having to go on deck in inclement weather. The ship was bending up and down a bit, because of the rough seas. The sailor opened the front door and looked 600 feet down to the back door of the ship where the galley and coffee were located. On his trek to the other end, sometimes he could see the door and sometimes he couldn't. Because the ship was bending, the door would amazingly disappear from sight!

After retrieving the coffee, the sailor made his way back to the pilot house, which was about 60 feet above the water. Forty years later that sailor could still see in his mind the mammoth wave that swept right over the pilot house and continued all the way to the back of the ship, obscuring the smokestack from their view.

On the previous ships the sailor had worked aboard, the deckhands' quarters were located above the deck on the first floor. On the Hoyt, however, the deckhands' rooms were under the main deck down by the anchor. Two sailors shared a room, which was furnished with a bed for each containing drawers below, a dresser and a desk. His room was not very far above the water level. When they got into heavy seas, the sailor propped himself up in bed, so he could see out the port hole. Because the boat was rocking back and forth so much, sometimes he could see the water, and sometimes he would see the sky. Likewise the curtains swung in and out against the wall with the ship's steady roll.

During one of the many trips to Taconite Harbor, the Hoyt encountered some rough seas. The boat sought the safety of the channel by Houghton and Hancock. Unknown to the sailor because he was sleeping, the ship traveled through the river. When he awoke, they were back on the lake again. The sailor liked it when the boat rolled a bit; the continuous movement rocked him right to sleep, and he slept like a baby!

The sailor was having a great season sailing aboard the Hoyt, but thoughts of home and of the people he knew back there crept in his mind from time to time. The Hoyt used to meet the Edmund Fitzgerald in the river on occasion, and at the time, Ken Messing, a previous sailor featured in this series, was working aboard the Fitz. Once when the two boats met, the deckhand recognized Ken and yelled a friendly 'hello'. It was kind of nice seeing someone he knew, even if it was from a distance.

While the crew was always conscious of their safety, danger was ever present on the lakes. On Lake Michigan, there was a ferry, which regularly traveled across the lake from Ludington, Michigan, to Manitowoc, Wisconsin. On one occasion, the deckhand was working on the fantail of the ship when the pilot house issued its distress call. When the whistle began blowing, the deckhand, along with his comrades, ran to the edge of the deck. The sailors could have thrown a stone and hit the ferry, which came out of the fog and crossed just behind them. It was a close call to the say the least.

The sailors worked hard, and they earned every penny they made. On this deckhand's pay stub dated October 30, 1961, one month's wages totaled $625.58. After taxes and a $10 withdrawal - every sailor needed a little spending money - his net earnings totaled $492.40 for the month.

Look for the continuation in next month's issue where I will describe this sailor's close call and some unexpected fireworks on the 4th of July.

Copyright © 2004 Janis Stein