THOUGHTS AND COMMENTS FROM AN AMERICAN Merchant Mariner
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
yours truly, 6 months and 20 pounds ago.
Always happens. The last job gets screwed up. 30 minutes from topping off a modestly sized load of oil, the refiner calls and says they accidentally injected a slug of oil slurry into my cargo, and I have to pump it all back.
OK, so's I swing the valves that allows me ter switch-out, like, from load ter discharge, fires up me' prime movers, and start pushing oil at 100PSI back to the shore tanks. I pump cargo 'like a mad bastid' as we says at home.
And then I wait. And wait. Hopefully not too much longer, as there's a thirsty ship waiting, and my relief will be here tonight after that, so's I can go home and maybe say good morning to the Mrs. tomorrow. The last job's always a bitch.
I am Paul B, and I spend most of my life at sea. Ships, Science, commercial fishing, marine biology and (mostly) true stories of life among the best and the worst people in the world, the United States Merchant Marines. You'll find it here, maybe. You'll definately find rants, raves and discussion on the process of climbing the hawsepipe into an officer's job on a merchant ship.