Vaudeville is Dead and Maybe Captain Billy Too

Author's Note: The saga of the Good Tugboat Samson continues. Starting in Contest #180 and #184. Captain Billy Chunk and his crew face new challenges from outside and inside on the waters of Puget Sound.

It was early Monday morning aboard the Good Tug Boat Samson. The crew was mustered in the Galley for a Safety Meeting. The topic of the Monthly Safety Packet was "Ladders: Step Up to Safety!". Ladders? A sense of Deja Vu washed over Captain Billy as he was certain he had heard this topic for the umpteenth time. The verbose Mister Mate Mark began to read this missive from The Company to the crew of the Good Tugboat Samson.

The Company's safety mottos always seemed to have a slight bent towards finger pointing. (SAFETY!: It's all YOUR FAULT! SAFETY!: It's the Least YOU CAN DO! SAFETY!: I Told YOU SO! ). The author of these jingoes seemed to have a penchant for exclamation points!!! Mister Mate Mark had pointed out to Captain Billy that this punctuation mark was now called a "Bang". Was nothing sacred? This made zero sense to Captain Billy as he was still struggling with the concept of what was a Hashtag versus what was a Pound Symbol.

Mister Mate Mark was in good form as he continued his recital of the Monthly Safety Packet. Today's performance was in style of Sir Laurence Olivier as seen doing a little "Milton" on a rerun last night of "The Dick Cavett Show". Captain Billy recalled the dramatic reading of the previous Monthly Safety Packet. The topic was: SAFETY!: Eye Ought to Know Better! and Mister Mate Mark spoke in the style of a young Marlon Brando as appearing in the movie "On the Waterfront". At the conclusion of this early morning's oratory asked Mister Mate Mark, "Questions?" Captain Billy dryly commented, "Who said Vaudeville was dead?" Chief the Engineer said, "I didn't even know he was sick." This assumed tidbit of moribund gossip erased the permanent scowl on Chief the Engineer's face just for a moment as tales of death and misery were his favorite stock and trade as a gossip monger. The youngster of the crew, Deckhand Micky, (Two score and 7 years ago his mother brought forth), asked with genuine concern, "What did this Vaudeville die of ? Anything catching?".

The Monthly Safety packet had laden Captain Billy with a different concern. He had "Edited it for Content" to spare his crew from any unnecessary worry and held back the last page in his pocket. It read that the Good Tugboat Samson might soon be laid up and mothballed. As the meeting disbanded Mister Mate Mark, in very accurate rendition of Peter Falk as Detective Columbo, said, "Ah, there's just one more thing......., the boat has a Company Audit tomorrow" . All this "Sound and fury, signifying nothing" was over until the next month's Safety Meeting. Would there even be a next month for the Good Tugboat Samson wondered Captain Billy to himself? He drew a heavy sigh and stepped out on deck.

The Good Tug Boat Samson was tied up at Pier 17, Harbor Island. Captain Billy surveilled his surroundings. The only other vessel tied up was the Tugboat Sioux in a state of cold iron. On it's main engine exhaust pipes were upside down metal garbage cans confirming that the Sioux wasn't going to crew up anytime soon. Tearing across Elliott Bay were The Company's twin pride and joys, the tugboats "Chief" and "Guide", dispatched to assist out a Bulk Freighter from the grain terminal at Pier 86. These tugboats were newest in the fleet and had a completely different propulsion units than the typical twin screw and rudder system that the Tugboat Samson possessed. When the Tugboat Samson was brand new, many years ago, it was quite a step up in maneuverability from the single screw and rudder tugboats that ruled the day. Now, the Tugboat Samson's time was up and would soon be usurped by these latest entries on the Seattle waterfront with their fancy schmancy Voith Cycloidal Propulsion. As Captain Billy was ruminating about the future, Mister Mate Mark stuck his head out the Galley door and relayed, "Dispatch called, they told us to take the Sioux up the lake." Captain Billy replied, "Fire up".

The Good Tugboat Samson and her crew spent the day taking the tugboat Sioux in it's state of cold iron up to Lake Onion. It was a three line make up on the hip. With some tightening up of bow and tow winches they departed Pier 17. Their route went past Four Mile Rock, rounded West Point and ran past Shilshole Bay Marina then underneath the railroad bridge and entered through the gates of Chip and Dale Locks. The Tugboat Samson passed lines to the lock Tenders along with of a red can of Folger's Coffee which was the going rate for baksheesh. In return the Tender gave up yesterdays Seattle Times which most assuredly had the crossword puzzle completed flawlessly in black pen. The gates closed behind the pair of tugboats and lock filled with water and up they went from sea level to lake level.

The pair of tugboats, literally joined at the hip, continued through the ship canal towards the lake. Drawbridges opened on the duo's approach. Their spans were raised upwards, as if in a final salute to the venerable Sioux. Eventually they arrived at Lake Onion. "The Lake" was the Elephant Graveyard for tugboats. Just North of Lake Onion Dry Dock Company were the mooring piers for, at what most optimistically could be called, The Company's "Ready Reserve Fleet". These tugboats were on permanent standby floating on the less corrosive freshwater of Lake Onion. There was the slightest hope of reactivation for these vessels and this was not to be entirely ruled out. Captain Billy recalled decades ago when a certain Captain "Saint" Joseph had erred. This, shall we say "incident", had reanimated this undead armada . Captain Billy took a census of the mothballed fleet and realized that he had at one time or another sailed on each one of them. He noted they were all a single screw type tugboat. The Tugboat Sioux would be the first twin screw type join them. The crew made the Tugboat Sioux fast to this growing rafts of not quite derelicts and headed back to Pier 17 to again standby. Captain Billy gave a backward glance over shoulder at this Ghost Fleet and it's latest victim. He couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Deckhand Micky sensed that Captain Billy was in a pensive state of mind. He knew exactly what the correct prescription was to modify this mood. Spaghetti. The only trouble was Chief the Engineer hated spaghetti. Deckhand Micky had the duty of preparing the supper meal. The last and only time he served spaghetti aboard the Good Tugboat Samson, Chief the Engineer pitched a fit. "How come you made spaghetti for Captain Billy and shorted over the rest of crew ?" he asked angrily. Well, RHIP, thought Deckhand Micky and went to the Galley Pantry to find some spaghetti sauce. At last he located a jar of RAGU brand sauce hidden behind a stack of Underwood Deviled Ham Spread cans. He checked the date and as if he was Orson Welles examining a bottle of Paul Masson wine. Deckhand Micky wasn't quite sure how to decipher the date code on the slightly bulging lid on the jar. Darned if he knew how to make spaghetti sauce from scratch. So expedience deemed it fit for human consumption. Orson Welles would have applauded Deckhand Mickey's selection of this vintage RAGU and for applying the sommelier's creed to spaghetti sauce, "We will serve no wine before it's time." This particular jar of RAGU sauce was bottled during the Reagan Administration.

It was spaghetti night aboard the Good Tugboat Samson. Deckhand Micky was impressed by Captain Billy going back for a third and then a fourth helping. There was plenty to go around. Chief the Engineer was in his predictable dark mood about the menu selection and boycotted the meal. Instead he was sulking in the corner of the Galley watching the telly with the volume cranked up. The program was the animated children's show called "Teddy Tugboat". It appeared to be a cautionary tale for youths in regards to pursuing tugboats as a vocation. Mister Mate Mark had sworn off carbohydrates and was only having a salad. Deckhand Micky had suffered the phenomenon of cooking makes you lose your appetite for what you are preparing. He opted to later make a sandwich from the cache of potted meat he had serendipitously stumbled across on his quest for the RAGU sauce.

Earlier, when Deckhand Mickey opened the jar lid in preparation of the sauce it had let out a hiss. This sibilant warning went unheeded. It was if an evil Genie was announcing it had escape from it's bottle and now was out for revenge for being cooped up for such a long, long time.

Captain Billy concluded his repast and got up from the Galley table and went to the sink to wash his own plate and fork. The "No Dishes in the Sink Rule" was strictly self enforced lest you wanted to be possibly remembered in a bad light some fourteen years in the future for this transgression. As he turned away from the Galley sink he felt as if the Good Tugboat Samson was underway and headed out the Strait of Juan De Fuca and was feeling the first ground swell of the Pacific Ocean. Captain Billy mumbled to no one in particular, "I feel a bit fatigued....." and staggered off to his stateroom for a lay down. Mister Mate Mark, Chief the Engineer, and Deckhand Micky were too engrossed in the "Teddy Tugboat" show to notice the early departure of their Captain Billy.

Captain Billy slept. He passed out in his bunk as if he was "Slipped a Mickie" by his appropriately named Deckhand. The effects of the elderly spaghetti sauce was like a crimp shanghaiing his brain. The curtain went up on tonight's performance in his head. Overture, curtains, lights. The Theatre of the Mind commenced. Dream on, Captain Billy, dream on...of ..talking tugboats..and... of...... talking seagulls...

It was a down dog dreary gray day on the Seattle waterfront. Tugboat Samson was tied at Pier 17 on standby for it's next assignment. The only other tugboat at the pier was the Sigh-Ox in state of cold iron with garbage cans on it's exhaust pipes like shaming Dunce caps. He eyed his surroundings and on the planks of the pier was Sally Seagull. Samson and Sally went way back as some seagulls lifespan could reach beyond seventy years. At the moment Sally was attempting to choke down her gullet a starfish. When she had finished, as it is rude to talk with a mouth full of food, she came over to chat with Samson.

"What's doing woe, my fine friend-o?" greeted Sally Seagull,"Kinda slow, inn'it?"

"You said it, Girl. Ain't nothing going but the rent."replied Samson, "Starfish for breakfast again, Huh?"

"Yeah, things are tough all over. I sure would love to get my beak on some decent grub..."

Just then their conversation was rudely interrupted by high pitched tooting. It was the peanut whistles of the twin terrors Jefe and Guido, a matched pair new fangled of tractor tugboats.

"Quit your yakking and get to work Samson!" they jeered in stereo as they sped by. "No idle time to talk for us! We got important work to do! We got to get a grain ship out Pier 86!' as they blasted past their twin wakes set Samson violently rocking.

"Insolent young whelps!"said Samson in ire.

"Take an even strain there, Mister!" chided Sally Seagull, "I recall a young pup named Samson whose was quite the 'Hell on Wheels' back in the day. You were the most modern of design twin screw tugboat at the time. Ha!, doing circles round and round just for fun! Showing off your 'maneuvering prowess', much to the chagrin of all the old time single screw tugboats."

Samson gave pause, then replied, "Your absolutely right as usual, thank you Old Friend for reminding me. But those two, do they have to be so smug? Given the chance, I'd love to put them in their place."

"Speaking of chances, maybe there's a chance they spilled some grain over at Pier 86, See you later, Samson!' squawked Sally Seagull. She flew off in her perpetual search for something eat.

"Not if I see you first!" he called back. Just then the radio crackled in his wheelhouse. Orders from Bob Grouch in Dispatch. Take the Sigh-Ox up to Lake Onion to the Tugboat Graveyard of the Undead also known as the Ready Reserve Fleet. Samson dare not ask if he had orders to return to Pier 17 or perhaps instead stay put, up the lake.

Dream on, Captain Billy, dream on.........

Samson was careful not to disturb the Sigh-Ox when he was making up to his tow "On the hip". However, the aged tugboat woke up anyhow.

"Oh hello Samson, where are we going?" asked the Sigh-Ox in a weary voice.

"Sorry Old Sport, we're going up the lake." said Samson.

"Don't be sorry for me Samson, I'm tired and I need a good long rest. Besides, It'll nice to see all my old friends. I've had good run, " said the Sigh-Ox stoically, "Wake me up when we get there." The old tugboat yawned and dozed back to sleep.

Across the bay, through the locks and up the canal. The pair arrived at their final destination. As so not to wake the Sigh-Ox, they gently moored her as though they were tucking in a sweet Abuelita for a nap. The other laid up tugboats kept on with their peaceful snoring and slept on unaware of their new bedfellow. Samson idled away as quietly as he could. When he finally got out through the locks and back on the saltwater he let out a sigh of relief. He shuddered as though he saw what the near future held in store for him. Just then Sally Seagull landed on top of his wheelhouse, out of breath. "It's....a.... RESCUE!....head.. NORTH...NOW!" she manage to say between breaths. Rescue! In a flash all his burdensome worries disappeared. He radioed Bob Grouch in Dispatch. Initiative is generally frowned upon and orders are orders. Samson TOLD him in no uncertain terms him he was going on a rescue. Bob Grouch understood the situation and heartily agreed. He radioed back, "Go get em' Tiger". With the blessing of Seattle Dispatch, Samson hammered down the throttles and headed North. Way up ahead he could see the shapes of the Tugboats Jefe and Guido headed North too.

Captain Billy was really dreaming and steaming now.......

Sally Seagull had caught her breath filled Samson in on the particulars of the job. The Bulk Freighter that had departed the Pier 86 Grain Terminal had lost it's way in the fog and had grounded on Peapod Rocks at the top end of Rosy Ohh Strait. The Company's biggest, strongest, fastest and also dumbest Tugboat Hunter was on scene waiting be told what to do. The Tugboats Jefe and Guido have two hour head start and there's no way you can catch them. They will beat you there. At this last bit of information Samson began to throttle back and began lose speed and the familiar heaviness of before began settle on him. Unless, of course, continued Sally Seagull, you turn right at Possession Head and go for Deception Pass . By my calculations we'll hit the tide just right. At this last bit of information Samson throttled up to flank speed. Over the roar of his exhaust he asked where Sally Seagull had acquired her tidal current information about Deception Pass? She said it was published every day on the back page of the Seattle Times. Samson then asked, "Sally, Old Girl, how did you ever get to be so smart?" Sally Seagull replied, "Simple, My Mother would read to me."

Now, for a quick geography lesson about Puget Sound. Wood Bee Island divides the mouth of Puget Sound into two choices. The wider main part to the West is Admiralty Entrance and is a safe bet. This is the route that Jefe and Guido took to get to Rosy Ohh Strait. The skinny route to the East runs between Wood Bee Island and the mainland. This route is not for the faint of heart. It necks down to narrow passage at Deception Pass and opens out near the South end of Rosy Ohh Strait. The distance between the two routes is about the same. However, this is where Bernoulli's Principle of Hydrodynamics comes into play that Sally Seagull was an expert on. The ideal passage time to transit Deception Pass is at Slack water at the change of the tide. This moment occurs between the Ebb and Flood of tidal water. Jefe and Guido were taking the low road of Admiralty Entrance. Samson was taking the high road of Deception Pass and would , by hook or by crook, get to Peapod Rocks before them. Sally Seagull, in her wisdom and judgement, did not tell Samson that a "Just Right" tide meant that they'd be traveling with an eleven knot ebb pushing them along.

Tugboat Samson's Diesel engines were singing a turbocharged basso profundo as they sped along in Deception Pass. Sally Seagull was on top of the wheelhouse squawking and shrieking helm commands to pilot Samson through the maelstrom. For the moment he was more whitewater kayak than tugboat. They shot through the roiling whirlpools beneath the Deception Pass bridge and came popping out into the calm waters of Rosy Ohh Strait well ahead their competition. Jefe and Guido were nowhere to seen. Up ahead was the stranded freighter and and standing by was the Mighty Tug Hunter with it's brain in neutral. Sally Seagull flew off to reconnoiter the situation.

Captain Billy slept on and on....occasionally muttering unintelligible phrases....

The Mighty Tugboat Hunter was known for being "Strong as an ox. Smart as a box of rocks". Samson greeted The Hunter and complimented him for keeping such a good eye on things.

Soon, Sally Seagull returned with her report. It was the same French ship that had departed the Grain Terminal at Pier 86 this morning fully laden. It was firmly grounded midships. She had asked a pod of some local seals that were swimming about and they told her the ship's hull plates were dented but water tight. The ship has a thirty foot draft and would need about six feet of incoming tide to float free. This would occur in about an hour's time. The next tidal opportunity would be around sunrise tomorrow. The barometer is dropping and we're in for a bit of nasty weather tonight. She suggested that they all best get cracking.

Samson gave a inner thanks that Sally Seagull was there. Samson drew less water than The Hunter but did not possess nearly the strength. He gently suggested to carry the tow wire of The Hunter to the stricken ship and make it fast to the centerline bitts on it's stern. Samson pointed out to the The Hunter would remain in deep water the entire time. He would then use his massive strength to save the day and become a hero. The Hunter's attention perked up at the word "Hero" and was agreeable to this plan of action. Just at that moment the Jefe and Guido arrived on scene.

Captain Billy began to toss and turn in his bunk....the dream continued....

Well, needless to say, the Jefe and Guido began talking it up and threw a scare into The Hunter and he backed away from the deal. The terrible twosome said that yes indeed a storm was brewing. If The Hunter did manage to tow the ship off of the rocks it would definitely sink and pull him under as well! You would go from Hero to Zero in a heartbeat. Besides, The Company handbook says: "Do not attempt high risks operations without checking with Operations first!" That was enough for The Hunter. He resumed his standby mode and keeping a good eye on the scene. The Jefe and Guido with their fancy schmancy drive units had too much draft to approach the ship. They joined The Hunter in standby mode too.

Samson was miffed. Well, he thought, he would put up his own tow wire instead of The Hunter's and then The Hunter and Jefe and Guido could all grabbed on to him and combine their power and pull the ship off. The wind and waves were increasing by the minute. Samson smartly backed up to the ship and quickly made fast to it's stern bitts. He then streamed his tow wire towards deep water. He called out to the three tugboats for help. But all three had become frightened by now gale force winds and building seas. It seemed they were the type of tugs who'd cop out when there's danger all about. All three high tailed it for safer waters. Sally Seagull landed on Samson's wheelhouse just having had a parley with the ship. Speaking French was another of her talents. The ship reported that she was riding okay and that the ebbing tide had settled her on the bottom and the ship was firmly held in place. All hull plates remained water tight.

The Sun went down and wind came up even stronger. Samson called out into windy darkness to Sally Seagull. "It's going to be a long night until the morning high tide, isn't Old Girl!' There was no answer. Sally Seagull had flown away. The Good Tugboat Samson never felt more alone.

The wind howled and the cold waves crashed but Samson held fast through the dark and stormy night. His Diesel engines pulled against the tow wire made fast to the ship. He was using almost full power just maintain position. A doubtful feeling began to creep into his mind. Just slip your tow winch brake and dump your tow wire. Nobody cares. Save yourself. Samson was just a moment away from doing this. He then thought about all the Old Timer Tugboats up in the lake. He would not, could not, dishonor them. He would do this job or die trying. Having made up his mind all fear and doubt vanished. He dogged the drum on his tow winch. In essence locking it down tight and throwing away the key. For better or worse, till death do us part, Samson was now married to a ship by his tow wire in now Storm Force winds.

Some how, some way Samson had made through the the night. His Diesel engines ran strong and true throughout this ordeal. Their rumbling exhaust note was the repeated mantra, "Hold Tight, Hold Tight, Hold Tight, Hold Tight......". Dawn was breaking and daylight was returning. If he recalled the absent Sea Seagull's calculation the favorable high water tide would occur in about an hour. The wind and seas were abating. A glimmer of hope appeared in his thoughts. This positive out look was quashed when Samson look to the South. A huge white menacing looking cloud was bearing directly down on the ship and tugboat. Well, we almost made it, thought Samson. All sense of the immediate future vanished and a melancholy shroud descended upon his spirit. This is the end, my only friend the end. He closed his eyes and awaited his final doom.

A strange high pitch chanting sound of thousands of little voices filled the air,"Ouvrir la trappe! Ouvrir la trappe,! Ouvrir la trappe!' and "S'il vous plait!" over and over. Then a more familiar voice was heard by Samson. "No time for sleeping Samson! It's time for breakfast!". Samson opened his eyes and there was Sally Seagull landing on his wheelhouse. At first he was filled by anger by her abandonment then relief by the return of Sally Seagull. But what was all this nonsense about breakfast. This hardly was the time to think about you and your friends stomachs. "You'll see!", said Sally Seagull. With a loud creaking noise the ship opened all it's hatches to it's cargo holds full of grain. The massive flock of seagulls descended in the cargo holds and began to eat their breakfast. Well, the law of displacement took effect and with every bite the ship rose a little bit higher in the water. This plus the rising tide and soon the ship began to float. The Good Tugboat Samson pulled the stranded ship off the rocks with ease. He towed it away to the nearby shipyard at the town of Annie's Corset for repair. "Merci Beaucoup, Old Girl" said Samson to Sally Seagull.

"Awake, Shake the dreams from your hair, My pretty child, my sweet one...." J.M.

Captain Billy awoke in his stateroom. He felt refreshed. However, there some inkling about a strange dream along with a strong desire for Cream of Wheat for breakfast. He shaved, showered, got squared away. Somehow he had regained his usual positive outlook and no problem from the previous day seemed insurmountable. He entered the Galley at precisely 0530. Mister Mate Mark, Chief the Engineer, and Deckhand Micky were all sitting around the Galley table eating Tacos. "What's for breakfast?" asked Captain Billy. "I think you mean dinner and on tonight's menu is the long standing custom of tacos," retorted Mister Mate Mark matter of factly, " Captain , It's now 1730, Taco Tuesday. " Captain Billy digested the last bit of horological information. Deckhand Micky chimed in, "Sorry Captain Billy, we're fresh out of spaghetti".

Spaghetti, that was least of his worries thought Captain Billy. He still wasn't quite sure what time it was. In his head he was applying Zone Description to Greenwich Mean Time and then adding, or was it subtracting Daylight Saving Time. Through all this mental mathematical brain fog arose the sum of twenty two hours plus an additional worry. The Company Audit. He then dared asked the question, "How the audit go?"

"No worries, Captain!",said Mister Mate Mark and began his oration in the style of Jimmy Cagney in "White Heat". "Earlier that day at 0700. the crew mustered in the Galley and the Company Auditor promptly arrived and started the process with a Safety Moment. The topic was "SAFETY: Watch your Back!". The Company Auditor inquired about the absence of our Captain. Since you were doing the "O Captain, My Captain, rise up and hear the bells" bit, Chief the Engineer was more than happy to explain. He said that this was the usual habit of his Captain "Lazarus" Billy to sleep until Noon as he relished his sack time. We dare not wake Captain Pajamas any time sooner or lest he be in the foulest of moods, more so than usual. Mister Mate Mark did a bait and switch tactic. He offered to go first with his part of the Company Audit. This should take us to lunch time. Captain Billy should be awake by then as he rarely, if ever, misses a meal.

At Noon The Company Audit was recessed for the Lunch Meal which Deckhand Micky had prepared. On the Galley table the was a platter stacked with a pyramid of sandwiches made of soft Wonder Bread and copious amounts of Underwood Deviled Ham spread. A surplus of ashen gray potted meat was oozing from between the bread slices. This was a favorite family recipe of Deckhand Micky's . The Company Auditor was of a fussy sort of fellow. This seemed to be a prerequisite for his profession. He was taken aback by the today's bill of fare and inquired if there was a second option on the menu as he was a picky eater. Picky eaters would usually starve to death on a tugboat. Deckhand Micky told the Company Auditor that he was in luck. There were leftovers from last night's dinner. The crew was all impressed by The Company Auditor when went back for a third then a fourth helping of leftovers. There was plenty to go around. The rest of the crew ate the sandwiches.

Mister Mate Mark continued. Well, the audit resumed after lunch and Captain Billy still had not appeared. However, The Company Auditor didn't seem to notice. In fact the Lunch Meal had seemed to do him a world of good. He seemed more relaxed towards his auditing duties and shunned them in favor of watching television for rest of day. He sat , slack jawed and drooling, mesmerized by the animated "Teddy Tugboat" kiddie's show. The crew sat next to him and watched too. Chief the Engineer and Deckhand Mickey were more than happy to occasionally offer a critique of the salient points of the tugboat handling abilities that "Teddy Tugboat" sadly lacked. Mister Mate Mark gently reminded the Company Auditor to sign off on all of the Company Audit's paperwork. He did this obligingly, all the while not taking his eyes away from the television screen for a single second. About four hours later the last episode of "Teddy Tugboat" concluded. The Company Auditor stood up and mumbled, to no one in particular, "I feel a bit fatigued....". He then staggered away and departed the Good Tugboat Samson. Mister Mate Mark had finished his report of how the audit went.

Captain Billy then asked, dreading the answer, "What exactly were these leftovers?"

Mister Mate Mark spoke one word, "Spaghetti."