This month we continue our sailor's tale as he shares a firsthand experience about a scary predicament he would have rather avoided along with other memories aboard the Elton Hoyt, II and the Frank Purnell.

While the sailor liked many aspects of his job, he absolutely loved going on the landing boom. At 50 feet in the air, being transported from the ship to the dock was a thrill. His shipmates would swing him over the side, and he would be sticking out there about 30 feet from the boat before he was lowered another 50 feet back down to the dock. The deckhand thought this aspect of the job was just plain fun, and he was never scared. Well, there was one time…

The crew of the Elton Hoyt, II had just unloaded its cargo of taconite pellets at the dock in Indiana Harbor. It was midnight on the 4th of July, and the wind was raging. Short a deckhand, the sailor was pulling double duty, and they were readying the boat for departure. The sailor quickly found the wind was so strong, as soon as he unhooked the back end of the ship, the Hoyt started moving away from the dock. The dock was covered with taconite pellets, which resembled marbles. As the deckhand ran the 600 feet to the front of the boat, he felt as if he was roller skating out of control. As soon as he untied the front of the ship, she started moving away from the dock. Shouts of encouragement came from above, and his shipmates yelled he should grab the swing arm, since the boat was already leaving.

The deckhand did just that, but when he jumped on the boom, his fellow sailors did not have the slack taken out of the line. Instead of staying in place, the sailor suddenly found himself descending about ten feet, and he was quick to note the water wasn't much further below him. A tingle of fear crept through the sailor as he quickly assessed the possible outcomes of his predicament. He looked to his left and saw the side of the ship looming about 70 feet above him. He looked to his right where the dock stood up 20 feet high. The wind raged on, and the Hoyt was bouncing back and forth with only about ten feet of wiggle room between the ship and the dock. The sailor could see, for the moment anyway, he was literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. Scared for his life, the sailor held on tight as his shipmates began pulling him up to the deck. The deckhand ascended a little at a time, and all the while the ship was constantly moving back and forth. It took the crew 10 to 15 minutes to raise the sailor to safety - a quarter of an hour which seemed an eternity.

The crew breathed a collective sigh of relief, but their elation was premature. The wind had blown the Hoyt across the slip, and the deckhand observed his second dangerous situation for the night. The front spar, which is where the boat's radar equipment was located, hit one of the unloading cranes on the dock across the slip. About 440 volts ran threw the arms of the Hewlett, and as the hot wires slammed against more hot wires, the sailors witnessed fireworks they hadn't anticipated seeing on that 4th of July.

The spar was bent right down, and cables were falling all around them. Sparks were flying all over just like that of a welder, only these sparks were much bigger. Seeking safety, all sailors on deck ran for their cabins.

After this incident, the Hoyt found herself in dry dock in South Chicago where it took about ten days to fix the spar. Putting a ship in dry dock meant placing the ship in a slip on blocks of wood spaced approximately six feet apart. All the water would be pumped out of the slip, and the repair work would begin. While the Hoyt was up on blocks, the deckhand walked practically under the bow of the boat. It almost seemed unnatural seeing her out of the water.

The ships had to be inspected periodically, so if a boat was in dry dock for repairs, an inspection might also be scheduled if the boat was due for one. While the Hoyt was in dry dock, the deckhands continued their work of scrubbing and painting. Aboard this ship and working along with the deckhands and the men holding the position of deckwatch was the Boatswains Mate. The Boatswains Mate was basically the foreman for the deckhands. He would assign jobs to the deckhands and be sure they had the adequate supplies to get the job done. He also busied himself walking around making sure the deckhands were doing their jobs correctly. Between the scrubbing and painting, the deckhands did stop long enough to tease the cook, however. After the water was pumped out of the slip, the sailors could see the carp lying on the bottom and jokingly asked the cook what he was planning for supper!

While safety was always a major concern on the lakes, injuries were inevitable. The men were washing down the deck, and it was time for the sailor to relieve one of his shipmates. Once on deck, it started to rain, so the sailor decided he would run back to his cabin to retrieve his rain gear. The doorways on the ships were a little higher than the floor, and the watertight doors had an edge that surrounded its perimeter. Perhaps the water on deck made things a bit slippery, but regardless of the reason, the sailor fell, slamming his knee against the edge of the doorway. The sailor then skidded about ten feet inside the hallway, waking up men with higher rank, because of the ruckus he was causing. His knee cap began to swell immediately, but the sailor dealt with the pain, choosing not to report the incident.

Other sailors fared worse with their injuries over the course of time, making it critical to arrive in port as soon as possible. One such incident occurred when the crew was out on Lake Michigan, and the accident involved a man who was short in stature and French in nationality. He went by the name of Frenchie.

The deckhands and watchmen were cutting the end off of a 300-foot-long cable. The end of the cable was fraying, and the sailors needed to re-eye it, so when they came into port they would able to secure the eye over a timberhead. The cable was an inch and a half in diameter. To cut it, the men placed the cable on a timberhead and used a sledgehammer and a sharp tool resembling an axe.

With the first swing of the sledgehammer, the deckhand saw the cable bounce on the timberhead. When the sailor swinging the hammer hit it the second time, the deckhand turned his back. Frenchie, however, was still looking at the cable. The cable was comprised of a whole bunch of little wires, and with the second swing of the sledgehammer, all those little wires went flying.

Unfortunately, Frenchie was in the line of fire, and he got it right in the eye. Reacting, Frenchie covered his face with his hand, and he immediately had a handful of blood. His shipmates could tell his heart was still beating, because with every pulse, more blood squirted out of his eye. Someone ran for the first aid kit, but there was little inside to help Frenchie at this point. The freighter was traveling on Lake Michigan, and Frenchie would be in pain for 20 more hours before they reached Indiana Harbor and an ambulance.

After unloading, the ship left Indiana Harbor without Frenchie. The deckhand found out later just how lucky Frenchie was. His eye must have seen the wire coming, because his eyelid was punctured. The wire then penetrated his eye, but fortunately it missed his pupil. Frenchie experienced some damage to his vision for a short period of time, but eventually his sight returned.

Be sure to look for the conclusion in next month's issue to find out the name of our featured sailor.

Copyright © 2005 Janis Stein