I think everyone understands that fishermen are a pretty tough lot. Long before The Discovery Channel turned crab fishermen into rock with “Deadliest Catch” or George Clooney got flipped ass over teakettle in “The Perfect Storm,” the public knew that it’s a pretty special person who will get on a boat and sail over the horizon in search of food or riches. Commercial or recreational, fisherman understand that long before land disappears off their stern, their fates are in their own hands and whether they come home or not will depend heavily on a combination of skill and luck.
So how exactly did the first people to arrive on the scene after the DEEPWATER HORIZON drilling platform exploded in the Gulf of Mexico turn out to be a boatload of opportunistic sissies?
Bradley Shivers and the crew of the 31-ft RAMBLING WRECK were fishing near the rig when the fire broke out and MAYDAY calls filled the radio. The Coast Guard urged any boats nearby the rig, located 50 miles offshore, to respond to the disaster. The RAMBING WRECK stowed the fishing gear and headed toward the flames. It was everything they feared it would be …
The 20 minutes it took the fishermen get to the rig felt like forever.
What are we going to see when we get there? Shivers thought.
The men kept communicating with the Coast Guard, describing their coordinates and what they were hearing over their radio as they closed in on Deepwater Horizon.
For a second, just a second, disbelief gripped them. Flames blazed across the water’s surface, jumping 500 feet. And the heat….
People were flailing in the current, hurt, screaming. Others clung to life boats.
“We’ve got friends that are missing,” someone shouted. “Please go search!”
The Deepwater Horizon was enormous, its destruction so vast that the friends had to keep using their binoculars. “You’d see something floating in the water and we’d go up and try to find out what it was. You know, is it a person?” Shivers recalled.
I’m sure becoming a sudden participant in such a disaster would be a frightening experience, one that someone could retell over the years with a great sense of pride and accomplishment. Instead, these guys are on anti-anxiety medications and talking about suing BP.
“We could have been sitting under that rig,” Mead said. “We could have been on the victims’ list.”
He said he’s taking anti-anxiety medications and though he rarely fought with his wife, he says he’s gotten short with her lately.
Only adding to the stress, Mead said, the BP oil spill has destroyed his charter ship business.
…
They have left messages with BP and Transocean’s hot lines and claims departments and sent e-mails to the companies, Shivers said.
“‘Hey guys, we were there. Can we tell ya what we saw? Can we, you know … I may have information that can help ya’ll out,’” Shivers said, describing his messages. “Zero calls. Nothin’. No one’s ever called us back.”
The men say they are suing BP for emotional distress.
Everyone who runs a boat – regardless of type, size or purpose – understands that the first priority of any oceangoing captain is to preserve the life of those in distress. It doesn’t matter if it’s a French fishing boat plucking Abby Sunderland off her damaged sailboat thousands of miles from shore, a marlin boat rescuing a downed spotter pilot off Catalina or fishermen called to save wildcatters about to burn to death – you drop what you’re doing, you do what you have to do, and you don’t whine about it. I don’t doubt it’s an experience that will stay with you for life, and I applaud the men for responding to the call.
It would be one thing if the fishermen suffered injuries in the rescue attempt, or the boat was damaged or they were dragging dead bodies out of the water. Perhaps it’s just the way the article was written, but there’s no evidence the crew did anything other than stand by – I’d think if they were plucking oil-soaked workers out of the water, you’d hear about it. These guys sound as if their biggest complaint is that they weren’t paid proper attention to by BP – and, until now, the media. The sad part is that in the end, there’ll be a fat check written to reward these slackers for doing what every boater I know wouldn’t think twice about doing – and wouldn’t consider complaining about afterward.
Sad indeed.
