The Night That Didn't Happen

Somewhere in the North Atlantic…(even better than “It was a dark and stormy night”)

Well actually it was the Bahamian Sea which is technically the North Atlantic but somehow doesn’t sound as cool…

The mighty GRAND ISLE was forwardedly deployed to Miami from our homeport, Gloucester.  Our mission (and we had no choice but to accept it) was to support a drug interdiction operation running around the Bahamas.  Now, that may sound like a tip of the spear type endeavor but not so fast my friends.  Our job was to stay covert in a place just south of the Tongue of the Ocean (its real—Google it!!)…we were tasked with doing a BARPAT (fancy term for steaming back and forth along a one trackline…over and over (and over!!) again.  So, not the glamorous patrol I was hoping for this far from home.

This particular patrol started with a trip down the coastline stopping a couple of times along the way for fuel.  The Coast Guard felt that more resources in and around the Seventh District could help stem the tide of illegal drugs.  GRAND ISLE’s normal mission was enforcing  “living marine resources” regulations.  That is a relatively fancy term for fish boardings…making sure that the New England fish stocks…ah what the hell…it’s a boring conversation anyway…

So, GI had been working for a couple of weeks burning holes in the ocean with very little to show for it (during the patrol we had to evade Hurricane Mitch; a whole other sea story for a different day…and really not a funny story at all…actually that would fall under the horror genre if I do say so myself).  We were now pros at the stealth patrol—avoiding contacts—which went against all of my professional instincts. 

This particular evening was OPS NORMAL…so my Chief Engineer and I sat down to drink some coffee, play a little cribbage, and watch Braveheart (pre Mel meltdown).  Right before the first MAJOR battle scene the whole ship experienced a brown out…somewhat eerie I might add but not completely out of the ordinary.  That said my Chief felt it would be solid idea have a quick look in the Engine Room.  So naturally I kept watching the movie…

A good, whole three minutes later I heard one of the main diesel engines just stop…most unsettling.  Chief opened the Engine Room hatch and said he would get this fixed right away…no worries.  I was the Captain so of course I worried my way up to the bridge.  My OOD was suitably concerned and on the sound powered phone with the Engineer of the Watch.

I settled in the Captain’s chair with a cup of coffee and…the second engine shut down.  Not really what I was expecting when Chief had said “No worries”.  In fact I would say this is the exact opposite of no worries.  EDITORIAL NOTE:  Those of you who know me well understand my Zen-like calm that I always exude…ok you can stop laughing now.

So…every instinct says to stay on the bridge and wait for Mick (my Chief) to let me know what is going on…then one of the generators shuts down.  Deep breath now…until…the final generator shut down and then everything else on the ship too…

We have battery back up for a few systems…radar, some radios…that’s about it.  And if we are not inport the batteries are what we use to start…everything: generators and engines.

Now I cannot help myself and head below decks to the engine room to find out what is going on and what I can do.  What I saw was…something less than reassuring.

Mick is standing on one of the generators and his department is running around the engine room with five gallon buckets of diesel fuel.  Not what I was expecting…to say the least. 

Mike looks at me and for the first time since he has been my Engineer he seemed a bit…hmmmm…put off…

“Captain” he started and at this point I knew we might have a slight problem “this is REALLY not the time…get back to the bridge!”

Now, normally as the commanding officer the crew refrained from giving me orders…in this case I felt discretion was the order of the day; I went back to the bridge.

So, we are dead in the water, middle of nowhere, no power, no long range radio and a battery backup that was our only chance to get this righted.  My XO and I discussed every possible option; shutting down all systems, breaking out the flares, getting the EPIRB ready, deploying a sea anchor…but at the end of the day the all came to one conclusion…we were going to have to call the Coast Guard for a tow…lamentations promptly ensued.  I think I said something like:

“I don’t care if we drift until the Second Coming, we are NOT calling another patrol boat for a tow!!!”…something like that…there may have been a few more colorful adjectives, nouns, adverbs….

Waiting…and waiting…for my chief to come up and tell us what happened.

Still waiting…

And…yep…still waiting.

In all actuality it was probably 20 minutes but you get the idea.  I am genetically predisposed with the patience of a 7 year old on Christmas morning.

I hear some doors opening down below and on queue Mick bounds up the ladder to the bridge.  He is not looking optimistic in fact his demeanor is downright downtrodden (can you do that…two consecutive words starting with down?  The world wonders).

By the way Mick is from England so imagine this with an accent.

“Sir…not sure how it happened but we bleed air throughout the whole fuel system.”

What he really said we filled with engineering language (and colorful metaphors) that I did not understand then and certainly can’t remember 15 years later.

“What we need to do is replace one valve and prime fuel into the whole system.  Then, if that works, we light of a generator using the batteries.  If that works we will be fine…if it doesn’t…”  Mick let it hang there knowing what it would mean.  Very calmly I reiterated my desire to avoid calling the Coast Guard for a tow.

Mick got all in place…called to his head mechanic and told him to start one of the generators.  Imagine if you will every horror or action movie when the car NEEDED to start…what happens…the whole theater hears the engine cycle but not turn over.  That’s what we got here…THREE TIMES!

On the fourth try I am doing my best not to have an aneurism on the bridge when the GEN catches and turns over.  Imagine if you will the Ewoks on Endor when DS II explodes…same thing on the bridge of the mighty GRAND ISLE.

With the power from the first generator we light of rest of the systems including the Main Diesel Engines and we amble along our way.  Total time maybe 90 minutes…if that long; felt like a month and a half.

I went down below to talk to Mike…where was he you ask?  With a bag of popcorn, fresh pot of coffee, and Braveheart paused waiting for me.  Before I could ask anything he said:

“Never happened”.

“What?”

“Never happened.”

“You mean tonight?”

“What about tonight?”

“So, I never happened?”

“What didn’t happen?”

And that was The Night that Never Happened aboard GRAND ISLE.