On patrol in the vicinity of Fisheries Closed
Area I…a large portion of the North Atlantic southeast of Cape Cod. The New England fishery had come close to
collapsing; in order to keep some of the cod “classes” viable, the National
Marine Fisheries Service (NMFS) closed vast areas to fishing. It was the Coast Guard’s job to enforce those
regulations. There were rules on when
they could fish, where they could fish, how they could fish, and what they
could fish. On top of that there are
reams of safety regulations that the Coast Guard inspects as well. Legally, the Coast Guard could board any U.S.
flagged vessel to conduct a safety inspection.
My sympathies were with the fisherman—this
was an industry that stretched back to the late 1600, long before there was a United
States. Most of the fisherman were
trying to make payments on their boats and their homes, keep food on plates,
and kids with clothes. There was an
element of greed that caused the crisis—too many boats taking too big a
catch. Regulations limited the number of
days a boat could fish, so when they did make it underway they had to maximize
their catch. In rough weather, at night,
it didn’t matter.
In this scenario, insert the Coast
Guard. The Coast Guard executes policy,
enforces laws and regulations. They do
not make those polices. Most fisherman
just wanted to fish and be left alone—they were not dirty boats. The tolerated, at best, Coast Guard presence
but understood what the roles had to be.
Patrolling the closed areas offered multiple
options. Fishing vessels knew we were
there and we had aircraft support. Boats
were never in the middle of the closed area, but on the edges trying to duck in
there whenever they could. A cutter may use
overt tactics and patrol the border in plain site; they may run with darken
ship, duck in deep and pounce on boats if they had radar contact
information. I favored getting close
enough to the line at night and use radar.
I didn’t favor Dog Zebra running (turning off all running lights) …if a
fisherman had a contact but no lights they would know it was the Coast
Guard. We may employ deceptive lighting
and slow our speed over ground to not appear as a law enforcement vessel.
On this night, we had intel from aircraft out
of CGAS Cape Cod of a collection of boats in the northeast corner of the Closed
Area. In this case, we slow steamed
through the middle of the area; we thought the fishing fleet would not expect a
Coast Guard cutter to be coming from the center.
We had a vessel plotted about a half a mile
inside the boundary line maneuvering slowly and in many different directions;
typical of what fishing looks like on radar.
This contact was going further inside the area as well, NMFS would allow
a boat some leeway if they dipped in and came back out; a warning or a small
fine, but this incursion was more significant.
We had started a paper plot with matching log entries for a potential
case package. They appeared to be
deliberately fishing in the closed area.
It was about 4 am…I had been on the bridge
since around 2 as we slow steamed and gathered intel. The XO was already up and we were talking
about what to do. We had the BM1 go
around and wake up the crew. We were
going to have the smallboat at the hip (hanging right at the rail, read to launch)
and the team dressed out in a few minutes.
We would steam close and have the small boat following astern ready to
make their approach as we did the pre-boarding radio calls. It was a typical sized fishing vessel so we
expected a crew of 5 or 6 so we would use our standard 6 person force lay
down. Two boat crewman and four boarding
personnel. BM1 would be the lead BO—he came to GRABD ISLE with little cutter time
but he was a top small boat coxswain and the most LE experience aboard.
We made out calls to the boat they had 5 POB
and were out of New Bedford—not a good sign.
Those could be rough boats. We
informed them that we were sending over a boarding team and they requested a
delay so they could get the decks cleared.
We informed them the team would be alongside in less than five minutes
and they should be prepared. They knew
it was going to be a bad day—no doubt they were aware of where they were
fishing. I hoped to get aboard them
before they could alter any equipment or charts. BM1 would immediacy take the vessel’s master
to the bridge.
Like all boardings, when you are on the
cutter it is a slog. Waiting to hear
from you deployed crew, responding to questions from CTU (the underway cutter
in overall command) or the District via one of the Groups. You had to keep the small boat running,
decide if it was safe to bring them to the hip—I didn’t like having my boarding
team that exposed if the boarding turned south.
BM1 radioed back with his initial findings. He had taken the waypoints from their GPS and
they had put a trashcan over their VMS to hide their location (VMS was an electronic
way to monitor boats…using a trash can was a way to mask them). He also gave us the biographical details from
the crew. He recommended that we seize
the boat and catch and escort them back to port. That was standard procedure if there was a
significant violation. He said the
master was getting angry and uncooperative.
He requested permission to put him in cuffs and detain him. I told him to do what he needs to do to be
safe and I would pass along this information to CTU. He also said the team was going through with
the safety boarding and the boat was a mess.
There is a difference between detaining
someone and arresting them. We could
detain for crew safety and as long as the Boarding Officer could articulate
that threat. Arresting someone triggered
timelines for getting in front of a federal magistrate. We only would arrest an individual in an
extreme case.
We contacted CTU…a 270 out of Boston and let
them know what we wanted to do. They
immediately gave my boarding the authority team to arrest the
master and any of the crew they deemed necessary (that was quick!! And it made
me feel like we had some significant support from our fellow cuttermen ). To conduct a seizure needed permission of the
District Commander and it would take time to get those relays setup and then
there would be consultation with legal.
It was about 630 in the morning, we could be here for the long
haul.
I called the BM1 and gave him the background. He said at this point the master was back on
the bridge but still steamed. It was
information like this that you would use in the calculus about the small boat.
Its demanding on the small boat crew to stall alongside a F/V but I wanted the
option to evac the boarding team without delay.
BM1 passed the first safety violations…7 so far. More than five was considered a major
violation. They failed the big four:
life raft, life jackets, fire suppression, and EPIRB-that alone was cause for
terminating the fishing trip. This was
going to be a colossal fine for both the master and owner of the boat.
As we passed the safety violations to CTU they
reported that the crew had no warrants out on them. A minor victory at this point. We were going to have to keep the team on the
boat while the district made its decision.
Normally we allow a fishing boat to continue with operations but in this
case they were in the closed area.
Tensions were building on the F/V, BM1’s voice comms were clipped and he
sounded agitated. It was part of the
job.
BM1 called back another 8…EIGHT!!!!
Violations. I had never had a boarding
with 7 safety issues…15 was unheard of—and unsafe. We passed those along to CTU and then the
waiting game.
9 am turned to 10 and then later. BM1 called back often saying the master was
ready to head in. I told him that at
this point he needed to maintain station.
That command, technically was detaining the vessel and I wasn’t sure I
had the authority to do that—but being a CO was about weighing options and making
the best decision possible with the given facts
Finally, CTU came back to tell us to seize
the catch and terminate the voyage. I
had the small boat close to the fishing vessel when the BM1 told the master.
GRAND ISLE would escort them into New Bedford.
It was going to be a 12-hour steam so NMFS would meet the boat at the
pier at 6 am the next day. We would keep
our team aboard until they hit the pier and then have two people up all night
keeping watch.
Predictably the master was furious. He started raving and threatening the
crew. The BM1 told him to calm down or
be placed in cuffs, then he would arrest him and explained it would be a
federal offense. No one wanted a part of
the feds so he shut up. What he didn’t
do however, was stow his catch. In
situations like this the catch would be sold at market value and the money
placed in escrow until the case was settled, if they were cleared, the money
was released to the owner, otherwise it was a penalty levied on the fishing
boat. By not putting the catch on ice he
was flipping the bird to NMFS. He must
have figured he was caught red handed and “fuck you” NMFS.
It was noon, I had been up for 10 hours and
most of the crew up for 8…it was a long ride back through some tight
passes. Making our way through the
channels, staying on the quarter of a fishing boat at clutch speed, close to
shoal. We were already short-handed with
the four on the fishing vessel. The
small boat was at the hip and the crew ready to deploy if it got tight on the
F/V.
Unfortunately, as the sun set we were getting
into thick fog at the most dangerous time of the trip. The BM1 was on the bridge and asked if he
could take over and drive the boat. I
know he was kidding, but only half so.
If we did that we would assume responsibility for the ship and if
something happened the Coast Guard would have pay. I told him no but he needed to be safe. The master of the vessel choose to cut
between two small islands that I wouldn’t take GI. I told the BM1 we would go around the long
way but pick up speed. The small boat
station in Cape Cod was standing by on the radio and said they could launch a
team if we needed assistance. That is
always a comfort—being in the Coast Guard was just a small brotherhood…or
sisterhood.
The fishing vessel moored in New Bedford
about 10 minutes before we did and one of our guys was standing on the pier to
handle our lines. We moored and by the
time we go the boat locked down it was almost 2 am…a 24-hour stint not he
bridge…and we were looking at about four hours of sleep before the boat had to
get up and head to the fish market. When
NMFS was there we would transfer custody and we could head home.
New Bedford is a tough port and we did not
frequent that town for port calls. The MKC volunteered to take the first watch on
the bridge in addition the normal watchstander.
He laid out a firefighting line (a hose) and charged it in case we
needed to encourage the locals to stay away.
I hit the rack and was out in about a
minute. Five A.M. came fast and I went
to the bridge. Chief was still up
there—he was exhausted. I asked why he
didn’t hit the rack. He said the yokels
from the fishing boat came back about three, liquored up, with rocks in their
hands and were about to pelt GI with their projectiles. Chief was the best and talked them out if
it. He said they could throw the rocks
but if they did – he’d he pelt them with 250 gpm straight steam, he would
arrest them all and handcuff them to our fantail until the mooring when he
would turn them over to the sheriff. He
was bluffing…maybe bluffing…
They cooled their heads a bit but he said he
wanted to stay up until they passed out.
He requested permission to lay below and catch some Zs.
BM1 and his team met me on the bridge. All we had to do was get them to the fish
pier and we would pick them up with the small boat and be on our way. It was a good plan.
I am such an idiot…
Reveille came early, but it was the best
short night sleep. In a couple hours, we
would be done with this jackass. I made
my way to the mess deck ready to pour that first cup of coffee. The cook had the pot fresh and a mug laid out
ready for the black gold. He was in the
galley and the clank of pans and the sizzle of grill made its way to the mess
deck.
“Cap, morning sir…usual?”
“Please.”
Over easy and bacon…I didn’t eat much yesterday between the boarding and
the difficult transit into New Bedford.
I suspect the FS2 knew what I wanted, as I
sat down he slid a plate across to me.
“You are nothing short of awesome, Jason!”
I grabbed silverware and sidled back to my
seat, the sound powered phone growled and the EOW picked it up.
“Cap, it’s the bridge.”
I am typically a pessimist—still am—but exhaustion
prevented that defense mechanism from engaging and I answered the phone with
only the thought of getting back to my breakfast. It was probably just someone asking when we
were getting underway. It had slipped my
mind—ok mind whole mind slipped—that the BM1 and one of the boarding team were
on the fishing boat.
“Captain, its XO on the bridge. I think you need to come to the bridge.”
“What’s up X?”
“They ran aground.”
“Who ran aground?” I am such an idiot.
The fishing boat with the boarding team.
For the love of Pete…who is Pete by the way?
“Roger”.
I was too tired for more. This
guy was a monstrous pain in the ass.
On the bridge, the XO was talking to BM1 on
the VHF
“—Ran aground but they have slipped off the
bottom. They have damaged the screw and
the rudder. They are saying I told them
where to go.”
That was a total crock. BM1 was smart and if he hadn’t taken over the
previous night in no vis then he wasn’t going to do it now. The marine investigator barley contained a
laugh when the master leveled the charge.
He was the only one on the bridge that had that story where the BM1 had
a witness, procedure, documentation, and there was the matter of 15 safety
violation and a major fish seizure. But
it added to the bullshit of the case. As
just noted…the Marine Safety Office would have to be involved.
As soon as he set down the radio, XO picked
up the cell phone and was calling the Coast Guard…the local Marine Safety Detachment.
We had bigger problems. I had a team on a vessel disabled and adrift
in a harbor. It could run hard around
and hole it’s fuel tank causing an environmental disaster and necessitating a
response. Possibly collide with another
vessel or allied with a structure.
Island Class Patrol boats are one of the best all time designs in Coast
Guard history…speed, endurance, armed to the teeth, the can tow with the best
them…astern. Doing anything alongside
was almost impossible. The narrow-hulled
ships are equipped with stabilization fins about midship that help with
rolling. Taking this jolly jack
alongside could damage that equipment.
Another trade off to speed and endurance was hull thickness. The steel was 3/16th of an inch
thick, placing a 60-ton fishing vessel along that hull with the fins was a
prohibitive strategy.
Of course, you are saying to yourself: “Well,
just have them drop the anchor”.
Normally I would praise such insight and act quickly upon that
suggestion. The anchor, however, was one
of the 15 safety violations—as in they didn’t have an anchor. The master clearly thought he would never
deploy such a waste of space. Fishing
boats don’t ever anchor…they are fishing or the heading to the pier. Unless of course you have grounded and have
problems with your screws preventing propulsion in a crowded harbor…cases like
that - the anchor would be useful.
GRAND ISLE’s small boat was at the ready by
the fishing boat with our BM2 as coxswain.
GRAND 1 might be able to help a small sailboat but not much more. Our next call was to Station Woods Hole. At top speed, they could probably be here in
30 minutes. Top speed, however, would be
challenging; the fog from the previous day had not lifted and if anything
intensified overnight. We called anyway.
XO was on the radio with the Station OOD who
predictably said getting a small boat to our location would be problematic due
to the fog but they would launch; ETA was close to two hours. They did offer a bit of advice.
“GRAND ISLE, have the fishing vessel deploy
their anchor.” Normally I would be
pissed at being assumed such a moron but all is forgiven when you are sleep
deprived.
“Station, GRAND ISLE. The fishing vessel is not equipped with an
anchor.:”
An unusually long silence on the radio aw we
awaited a response.
“Roger that GI. We will see how soon we can get the 41 to
your location.”
“Appreciate the help. We will be standing by 2-2.”
Great.
With limited options, I did what any sane CO
would do…and swore a lot. The FS2
sensing the delicate nature of my psyche reached up from the radio room with my
travel mug of coffee. God Bless him.
I laughed a bit: “Thanks Jason.”
XO and I were talking when the BM1 came over
the radio
“GRAND ISLE this is BM1, is the Captain on
the bridge?”
“Go ahead Boats.”
“Sir, we are about lined up with the fish
house. If GRAND 1 can get over to our
port side I think they might be able to get some momentum going and guide us
the pier. If you can get a person on the
pier we might be able to get them tied up.
You can call the MSO and have these guys gift wrapped.”
“Do you think the RHI can take it?”
“I do…then can nudge up to us and gun it…I
think they can even get a little bit of a head start to get the momentum build
up. We might hit a little hard but not
too bad.”
“Boats, you are a genius. GRAND 1 did you hear that?”
“Roget that, Cap. It’s the best plan we can
come up with. Permission to drop off
Shane to handle lines?”
“Granted and good luck.” We were using coded radio on channel 23 so
the Station couldn’t hear us…I’m not sure I wanted them to hear that plan
anyways.
“XO, can you give the Station a call and tell
them we might have a local solution to the problem and to hold on launching
their boat.”
“Already have the QM1 calling them on the
cell phone.”
“Roger.”
XO, Chief, and I are on the flying bridge
with binoculars in hand trying to gauge movement on the fishing boat. It was hard to tell but they may be heading
to the pier. I didn’t want to call the
BM2 and distract him.
“GRAND ISLE, Boarding Officer.”
“Go ahead, Boats.”
“It’s working, we are closing the
distance. Looks like Shane is ready for
us.”
In the space of the call the distance closed
and I thought this might work, I drained my fourth cup of coffee of the morning
and already wanted more.
The next 10 minutes were a mixture of relief
that this might be over and concern over the small boat, but neither Boatswain
Mate had called.
“Chief, any concerns with the outboard doing
this?”
“Sir, the engine can handle it. I’ll help Dan take a look at the pontoon on
the way back to Gloucester. That would
be my only concern. We’ll give you a
quick assessment when we get it in the cradle.”
“Thanks, Mick.”
Finally, they got this awful boat to the pier
and I felt good for the first time in 30 hours.
NMFS was on the pier and BM1 did the custody hand off. MSO was on its way and we were receiving the
boat at this time.
Before we got underway I wanted to call my
boss and give him a heads up. This
cluster of a case might wind its way throughout te district, even on a
Saturday. I got Captain Beck on the
phone and went through the disaster. I
wasn’t sure what to expect. Capt. Beck was
the best and later in my tour he proved that in spades. He took it all in and reassured me that we
handled the whole thing by the book. I
told him we would drive the case package down to the District Monday
morning.
I called the Command Center to give them the
same update and ensure we were released from the case, which we were.
We left New Bedford about 11 am and laid in a
course for the Gloucester Sea Buoy and home.
That was the last time I was ever in New
Bedford.
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