" Sea Stoties' Across the Border

[Old sailer]

Capt Carl was chief mate with my dad on the old Stadacona 1 for a couple of years. I think they hardly ever got out of the Welland canal. My dad always spoke highly of him.

[captrmetz]

Yes I do his name was Captain Carl Norton. He pretended to be "Gruff" but one you got to know him he was a nice man. At one time I own a tavern and when I was 3 mate with him I would be working on deck loading or unloading and he use to sit in the passengers lounge and watch the deck, when I look up he would wave for me to come up, so I would go up and he would say, " You don't need to be down there make me one of those American drinks" American drink was a tall glass fill with ice and 2 shots of whiskey and filled with water. It got so I hated to look up because there he would be waving...One time at anchor at nine mile point we raised the anchor and had to swing the ship to turn around he started his turn and asked me if we would make the turn and I said if he went full speed and hard to port we would make the swing. Well he took my advice and it was coming around good and he got nervous and rang up dead slow and we ran aground ! All he said was,"Well I told them I was not a ship handler"

[Old sailer]

Captain Metz do you remember the name of the captain on the Georgian Bay.

[captrmetz]

I am aware of all the requirements that you have mentioned because I have up & down the seaway for 20 years. I do not know about the captain experience because I only made one trip with him. As far as the charts being in French they are when you inter Quebec waters. I never head of Beauharnois.I could not even pronounce the name, Never heard Lac Saint Francois, I did not know it was a lake. And I will check my river book I am sure it is 062*

[Guest]

Having read this "story" I maybe missed something..
The Captain on a Canadian flag ship that went down the "Seaway" had to complete a number of trips before he was pilot exempt.
All the mates and masters had a course book and the first mate did the pilotage from Tibbetts Point till about the Maitland buoy when the master took over until clear of the Americian locks when the mate carried on till the Valleyfield bridge.
The Captain then did the pilotage till clear of the "Seaway" at CIP #2 although the pilot boarde in t. Lambert lock.
I don't recall the charts being only in French.
If the captain did not know the couse when clear of Iriquois lock he should not have been doing the piloage.
Many knew the courses off by heart but always kept thei course book handy
Mine noted that course as 058 degrees.

[tugboat]

Great Story Cap!

[captrmetz]

Every time the hatch was full they would close the hatch then tarp it. The old crab lived three houses down from me.

[Guest]

Thats funny Capt that he was your neighbour considering that thunder bay or fort william or port arthur isn't small enough to know everybody like say the bay ports. How long would it take to put all 36 tarps on would they do it all at once or every time they were done with a hatch tarp would go on?

[captrmetz]

I really think he did not know what course to steer. He jump up and look at the chart for the next course. He was an Old Crab! I walked out of my house one day and I looked and saw that he was my neighbor, I never said anything. Yes, we changed crew all the time some guy's would quit and go on another ship because they heard it was a better feeder. Then in the 90's I had the same crew year after year and the ship had 36 tarps !

[Guest]

So Capt did you ever figure out why the skipper on the Senator wanted to know the course, I would assume he knew what it was,was he trying to teach you guys or was he just being a crab? With so many jobs and ships in the 70s and early 80s did guys change ships and jobs all the time, like I don't like the Capt or mate so I'll quite go on another ship?

[captguest]

I sailed on the Canadian ships in early 70s down the St. Lawrence river and the North coast of Quebec. Majority of the crew were French speaking and I can understand how your experience was. However, I remember that the navigation charts contained information both in English and French. Most of the Nautical publications on board like Sailing Directions (Pilots), Tide tables were in French (by Master's choice).

[Case80]

Thanks Capt. for another great story.Hope you are enjoying the weather.Im ordering accessory,s for the ship.Project is moving along.

[Billius]

Thanks for the story Cap!

[captrmetz]

Across the Border

It was early October 1973 when I left Houghton. I decided to drive around Lake Superior and head up to Thunder Bay, Ontario, to visit my dad, who lived east of Thunder Bay. From his house I could see the Sleeping Giant - the contour of the Sibley Peninsula that formed one side of the bay and looked like a giant lying down. Pie Island stood tall on the opposite side of the giant with Isle Royale in the center. I mentioned to Dad what a nice view he had.
I had stayed with Dad for a while every year. He wanted me to get Landed Immigrant status, so he sponsored me with a commitment of five years, and I was admitted to Canada in 1973.
“Why don’t you sail on a Canadian ship for the rest of this year?” Dad suggested. “They come into Thunder Bay.”
I knew they were short of seamen, so I thought about it, and agreed. “I’ll check in at the SIU [Seafarers International Union] hall in the morning.”
First, I went to the Canadian Coast Guard office and proudly displayed my US license, which they said was not valid in Canada for a mate’s job. However, I could go out as a wheelsman. That was all right with me, so I went to the hall and signed up.

There were two ships currently in the harbor looking for wheelsmen. One was Silver Isle; the other was Georgian Bay. I liked the name Georgian Bay, so I chose her.
When I got to the grain elevator, I found that the Georgian Bay was nearly loaded and would be departing shortly. The mate took me up to meet the captain. I realized that he would want to see my discharge book [record of ships sailed on and positions held], but I had forgotten it.
The captain was a gruff old man with many years of sailing experience. “Let me see your discharge book.”
“I forgot it,” I said sheepishly.
“Well, we’re about to leave. I don’t have time to call the hall for another wheelsman, so I will take your word,” he said. “You would not fun me around, would you?”

I had never been down the St. Lawrence Seaway - where we were headed - and only once did I meet a man aboard a US ship who had made a Seaway trip. We used to listen to his stories and ask questions about his trip. Wouldn't the boys on the Wilson be proud of me?
We soon departed Thunder Bay for Montreal and steamed out of the harbor past the Sleeping Giant. I looked over toward Dad’s house and said to myself, “What am I getting into now?”
It was time for dinner so I went to the mess room and sat down. I thought of Ernie, the first porter I had encountered. Those thoughts were interrupted by the smell of perfume and the sound of a French-accented voice whispering into my ear, “What would you like for dinner?” I turned to look, and standing beside me was the porter. I was surprised to see a female - and a pretty one at that - aboard a ship.
It was my watch and I was behind the wheel as Georgian Bay passed Isle Royale and altered course for Whitefish Point. Only three days before, I had made the crossing from Isle Royale to Houghton on the tug Colombe. Now I was on a Canadian ship heading someplace I had never been.
After the course change, I switched to automatic steering. I looked out toward the island and saw the Ranger III heading for Houghton on her last trip of the season. I asked the mate if I could use the radio to call the Ranger.
“What are you doing on the radio?” Captain Woody was surprised to hear my voice.
“I’m over here wheeling on the Georgian Bay,” I told him. “We’re headed for Montreal.”
Several days later, we came to the Welland Canal at the eastern end of Lake Erie. I was fascinated. I had never seen so many locks at once. There were eight locks that bypassed Niagara Falls and took us down to the level of Lake Ontario. And Locks 4, 5, and 6 were in a row; we exited one lock immediately into the next. But there was no waiting for ships coming up the canal. These three locks were “twinned;” there were locks in both directions. Once clear of the canal and out on Lake Ontario, I realized that I had never been this far east on the water.
At the eastern end of Lake Ontario, we passed under the Thousand Islands Bridge and through the Thousand Islands. The beautiful houses - many like big castles - on the rocky islands seemed to have been built to fit. There wasn’t room for much else. I learned that this is the place where Thousand Island salad dressing was born.
We were in the St. Lawrence Seaway now, and we steamed past Cornwall and Prescott, Ontario. Then came the US Seaway locks, the Eisenhower and Snell. Visitors to the locks waved at us as our ship locked through on our eastward journey.
I was on the wheel at night when we were in the South Shore Canal. A big, winding, seemingly never-ending bend had many rapids going around it. The banks of the canal were lit up with yellow lights located on both sides. This had to be the slowest and longest turn I had ever steered.
The Canadian Seaway locks ended, and we were at Montreal. The city was as beautiful at night as in the daytime with its huge buildings and illuminated skyline. A big cathedral on top of a mountain looked down at our small ship as we quietly slid along eastward. The captain received a change of orders; we were to continue on to Quebec City.
The St. Lawrence River widened as we passed Trois Rivieres. There were many smaller villages dotted with churches along the banks. We made a pilot change, and continued toward Quebec. Just upstream from Quebec City, we passed under two bridges and the Chateau Frontenac came into view. What a marvelous sight to see such a historic building with its spires reaching for the sky. The big stone wall ran along atop the high cliffs to protect the fort from the invading British that tried to take it back when Canada was still very young.
While Georgian Bay lay at the unloading elevator, there was plenty of port time to explore. I walked up to Quebec’s Old Town with its small shops and narrow cobblestone streets, vendors selling art work, and the smell of French cooking seeping out of the numerous cafes where musicians played love songs. The sight of pretty French women beautifully dressed in the latest fashions from around the world was something I could not forget, even when I was back aboard the ship.
I got along with Georgian Bay’s captain really well. He enjoyed hearing all about my diving experiences, especially on the shipwrecks.
“If you go to navigation school this winter and get your second mate’s ticket,” he told me, “I will call the office and guarantee you a mate’s job aboard my ship in the spring.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said. “But I really would like to go back to the island in the spring.”
I wasn’t very interested in going back on the boats. I had made my round trip on the Seaway. I laid up the Georgian Bay in Port Colborne, Ontario, that fall and flew back to Thunder Bay.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There was nothing to do over the winter months, so I decided to attend navigation school in Thunder Bay anyway. In the spring, I earned my second mate’s ticket.
I waited for the National Park Service to call and let me know the date to return to fit out the tug. The call never came, and I couldn’t figure out why. Surely it was time, so I packed my gear and headed for Houghton.
As I drove down the big hill overlooking the twin cities of Houghton and Hancock, Michigan, my heart sank. There in the river between the two towns was my tugboat heading back for the island without me! I rushed to the NPS office to see my boss.
I opened the door and Charlie looked up at me like he had seen a ghost. “Dick! What are you doing here?” I could tell from Charlie’s voice that something was wrong.
“I’m here to start work. And why didn’t you call me?” I demanded.
We both sat down. Charlie explained that I had lost my tug job. “Last fall, when you talked to Captain Woody on the Ranger on his last trip, you said you were sailing on a Canadian ship. He took it to mean that you would not be coming back to the island, so he hired another skipper.”
I was devastated! My world was caving in. I had lost the job of a lifetime. I drove to a spot close to the river and watched the Colombe pass by. “Good-bye, old girl,” I said quietly, and headed back to Thunder Bay.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
While I had been at navigation school in Thunder Bay, we had all heard talk of a new car ferry company that was going to start hauling rail cars loaded with newsprint from Thunder Bay to Superior, Wisconsin. People at the school were excited about this new ship; they all wanted a job on her. They could be home every day.
A classmate, Whitey, had asked, “Are you going to fill out an application for a mate’s job?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I had told him. “I’m new to Canada. Besides, I’ve never had a mate’s job before.” So I held off on the application. Now that I had lost my tug job, I was reconsidering.
Meanwhile, a friend who sailed for N. M. Paterson & Sons Limited, Rick Hulst, said, “I’ll get you a third mate’s job with Paterson if you want one.”
“Okay,” I said. I didn’t have any other prospects at the moment.

Before I knew it, I had orders to report as third mate on the SS Senator of Canada. I was to join the ship in Toronto. I had gotten my first mate’s job. I hoped I would do well.
The day before I flew to Toronto, I ran into Whitey again. “Did you ever put in your application for the carferry job?” he asked.
“No, I would never get hired. Besides, I got a job with Paterson.”
“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to put in your application,” Whitey said. “You never know, and if you got a job there, you would be in Thunder Bay all the time.”
So to appease Whitey, I went to the office of Incan Ships Limited that day and gave them my application. I met a Mr. Scott, received a brief introduction to this company from England, and learned the job description. Then I left, sure that this meeting was in vain.
Aboard the Air Canada plan to Toronto the next day, the flight path took us over Isle Royale at 20,000 feet. As we flew over, I snapped all the pictures I could of the island. As the island disappeared from view, I grew lonesome. I didn’t know when I would visit it again.
I sat back in my seat, and soon struck up a light conversation with an older gentleman sitting next to me. After a while, I proudly announced, “I’m going to Toronto to go board a ship as a new third mate.”
“What ship?” the old fellow asked.
“Senator of Canada.”
“Well, I’m joining the same ship,” he said.
“In what capacity?”
“As master,” he said.
“Small world.” I shrunk down into my seat a bit. Here I was, talking to this fellow, not knowing he was the captain, and I had told him I was an American and this was my first third mate’s job. I didn’t have any experience on the Seaway. I couldn’t even read French, and all the charts down the St. Lawrence were in French. I was a greenhorn again. I thought back to my first day aboard the Thomas Wilson as a green deckhand when the mate said he liked greenhorns.
This time, the captain didn’t say a word except for a long sigh. We didn’t talk much after that.
We fit out the Senator of Canada, and after passing our inspection, were underway back to Thunder Bay. Most of the crew were French, so very little English was spoken. That made it very hard for me to learn my new job. I felt like I didn’t belong on this ship, and before long I realized that I didn’t care to be there at all.
I worked the Welland Canal with its eight locks. That was okay.
But then, on down the Seaway, I had just come on watch one night after departing the Iroquois Lock downbound. I met the first mate coming off the deck going into his room to change clothes. “Go on up to the wheelhouse,” he said. “You've relieved me of the watch.”
I had no sooner stepped through the wheelhouse door than the captain yelled, “What is the next course?”
The ship wasn’t completely out of the lock yet, so I ran to the chart room. I had no idea where we were or even the name of the lock we were departing. I looked at the chart, and could not make out anything.
“What is the next course?” the captain yelled again. Only this time his voice sounded louder and a bit angered.
I frantically looked at the chart to find the next course but saw nothing except French. The Old Man ran to the chart to point out the next course to dummy me. Instead, he ran back out to the wheelsman. Cussing like only a sailor can, he came back to the chart room again. Not finding what he was looking for, he finally noticed that the wrong chart was laid out on top of the table. Cussing some more, he pulled open the drawer beneath the table top and brought out the next chart in sequence that was to be used.
“What a fine start!” I said to myself. “What happened to the nice old gentleman I met on the plane? All this carrying on, and the ship is only halfway out of the lock.” Then I got angry, “He’s the captain. Why does he not know the new course?” I thought.
Years later, when I was captain of another ship and departing the Iroquois Lock, I thought back to that night on the Senator when the first mate left me without the next set of charts laid out, and all the unnecessary screaming and cussing that took place. The course was, and still is, 062 degrees.
Now I was sure I did not like this Old Man, his crew, and his ship. But I would stay and do my job the best I knew how.
On the return trip upbound in the Seaway, a thick damp fog rolled in. Seaway Eisenhower closed down all navigation on the river and ordered all vessels to proceed to the nearest anchorage and drop anchor until further notice. We were just approaching the tie up wall below the Snell Lock when we got the order, so we tied up on the wall to wait for the fog to clear. Once tied up, we all got off the ship and ran for the telephones to call home.
Finally, it was my turn to use a phone. I call my dad to find out any news.
News he had, and very good news it was.
Dad was excited. “Incan Ships called and wanted to know if you would accept the position of second officer aboard M/V Incan Superior!”
Now I was excited, too! I almost tore the phone off the wall making a call to Mr. Scott. “Yes!” was my happy answer.
I went back aboard Senator of Canada and walked right up to the Old Man’s room. Without any hesitation, I told him, “I quit and will be getting off at Thunder Bay when we get back up.”
Come on, fog. Let’s clear up!

The Old Man was his nasty old self all the way to Thunder Bay. He tried his best to persuade me that this carferry was nothing more than a tug and barge. “You’ll regret quitting this job,” he said.
On arrival in Thunder Bay, I saw the Old Man for the last, agonizing time when I went into his office to receive my discharge. “If I had known you were going to quit, I would never have taken you on as third mate.”
Instead of saying that I had no idea I would get a job on the Incan Superior, I just turned and walked out of his office, off his ship, and away from his crew.
Once more, I was happy. The beginning of a new life and career was waiting for me.