Flying South

While some of the State and industry players responsible for the dismaying increase in the criminalisation of mariners will not be reigned in unless the Maritime Labour Convention or some such is rammed down their throats, Masters and crews can do a lot to minimise the risk of being prosecuted for their behaviour during the course of their duties.


On the top of this list must be the staple rule of thumb: Do the right thing. Applied to operational accidents and maritime pollution, which must be the two main reasons seafarers are incarcerated these days, this means that crews must decide to, quite simply, ignore commercial pressure wherever safety is even obliquely affected. I agree that this would cover an extensive gamut of operational matters and is not always practical, but I also believe this: Money is made by the professional conduct of Masters and crews; this includes adherence to time tested practices of seamanship, navigation and the operation of machinery. This also includes compliance with international regulations, although many of these, like the ISPS Code, are so knee jerk and ill thought out that they remain a joke. Nonetheless, there can be no argument for bending the rules in an attempt to squeeze out the extra non professional dollar out of the system. If the industry wants to do that then it must start with getting the regulations changed; nothing less will do.


The second thing all crews must do diligently is maintain accurate records and logbooks. Countries, particularly the US, continue to prosecute mariners for non compliance with regard to rules and falsification or inaccuracy of records even outside their jurisdiction. This applies particularly to Oil Record Books (aside: why, pray, is the Chief Engineer not required to sign on some of these when the Master is?) but can easily apply to others too. I have found that keeping a contemporaneous record of unusual events that occur on board is an excellent practice, even if it is in a duty officer’s notebook to be transferred to the log later. This habit promotes a system that will be hugely beneficial in case the event escalates into a fully fledged incident; moreover, it promotes a culture of compliance. It sends out a clear message to the crew that the ship is serious about what it is doing.


Equally importantly, shipboard senior officers in particular and crews in general must deal with inspections and investigations in a polite and professional manner. This presupposes that they know the rules and are confident of the status of certification, operations, procedures and equipment. This presupposes, too, that they do not jump to attention if any inspector is being unusually obtuse and so this assumes that the crews know what they are doing. Senior officers, in my experience, can do much to obliquely define the attitude with which a ship faces a Port State inspection or an enquiry after an incident. Come to think of it, this attitude seems to work well with many others, including Ship Superintendents, Classification Society Surveyors and those particularly annoying customs and immigration personnel.


Next, I suggest nobody lie to shore authorities. I have had the US Coast Guard greatly appreciative of the fact that I reported even relatively minor navigational problems to them and the pilots before arrival into that country. On a ship that was on a regular run between Europe and the US, the goodwill thus generated resulted in inspections that were based on mutual trust and a visible degree of comfort on the part of the USCG that the ship would not try to pull a fast one over them. It made our lives easier.


Then, as any Master will tell you, crews should realise that not everybody is your friend after an incident. In fact, few are. Most owners and managements will not even pay your salary even if you are wrongfully detained and later proved innocent (I once asked management, half in jest and when they were sending me on an old poorly maintained ship on its first voyage to the US, if my wages would be on in case I was arrested. Unappreciative of my attempt at humour, they said yes. In any case, it did not matter; the ship was detained after I boarded but before I took over command). Usually, all parties will descend on the ship to protect their interests: a euphemism for a massive CYA operation. This includes owners, management, all hues of insurance and classification societies. In one such incident, the bridge of the ship was transformed into a photocopying centre, with one officer spending days just getting the paperwork done for that league of extraordinary gentlemen. Meanwhile, a Superintendent was advising me to take a set of copies ‘for my own protection’. (I told him I did not need those, as I had nothing to hide, although he might.)


The bottom line is that Masters and crews have to be wary of any attempts to railroad them after an accident. We hear and read the usual shibboleths from management on supporting seafarers, standing by crews, being one big family and such. We do not read of the many more incidents (or the names of companies) that have falsified records, abandoned seafarers or sandbagged mariners into taking the rap for them. There is not even a serious attempt to minimise crew or Master detention or seek bail, in some cases, if it is felt that doing so may be detrimental to management’s interests. The innocent man is the first casualty in such an atmosphere.


However, even a cynic like me will tell you, from experience, that it is not impossible to counter the advice of these friends. If I keep it simple, do the right thing, keep proper records and do not lie, then I have mitigated the danger of incarceration to my crew and myself. Mitigated, mind. Not eliminated.


In the end, a favourite fable of mine should complete my suggestions to mariners in such eventualities. The fable is not just a good story, but it contains some wonderful lessons on life, particularly for those of us at sea. So here it is, the fable of the nonconformist sparrow:


Once upon a time, there was a nonconformist sparrow who decided not to fly south for the winter. However, the weather soon turned so cold that ice began to form on his wings, and he fell to the earth almost frozen to death. To make matters worse, a passing a cow crapped on the little frigid bird.


At the end of his tether and dying, the sparrow cried out, “Woe is me! Is this is how my life is to end, frozen and with cowshit all over me!!?”


But, wonder of wonders! The fresh manure warmed the sparrow and started defrosting his frozen body. Slowly but surely, the sparrow was thawed out, warm, happy and relieved to be alive. Happily warm and still lying in the cow manure, he started to sing.


Just then, a large cat came by and, on hearing the bird singing, investigated, cleared away the manure, found the chirping bird and promptly ate him.



There is not one, or even two, but three morals within this story:


Moral 1. Not everyone who craps on you is your enemy.
Moral 2. Not everyone who digs you out of crap is your friend.
Moral 3. If you are warm and happy in your pile of crap, keep your trap shut.



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Mettle fatigue

By now, sailors must be absolutely fatigued by the melodrama over the fatigue at sea issue. I certainly am. Beating a dead horse tires everybody out.


The latest: Eight months after the ‘Antari’ incident, a Marine Accident Investigation Branch (UK) report recently took the unprecedented step of recommending that the UK government take unilateral action in addressing the problem of seafarer fatigue. The Antari ran aground off Northern Ireland last year when the officer on watch fell asleep; investigations confirmed continuous overwork and fatigue ever since he joined the vessel. The MAIB says that such instances are rising and says it is just a matter of time before ‘unguided missiles’, as it calls such ships, cause a major disaster. The report also severely criticizes the IMO for ‘failing to address this issue satisfactorily’, hence the recommendation for unilateral action. It also says seafarer working hours are ‘close to slavery’.


Ho Hum. Pass the popcorn.


The moment the lowest rating is told, sitting at home, that the car carrier he is slated to join is short manned and on a short sea trade in winter in the North Sea, he knows exactly what he is letting himself for. A port every alternate day, lashing and unlashing, insane port stays, perpetual fog, heavy traffic and a contract that promises only one thing: that sleep will be at a premium. Everybody knows this: from the seaman to the Master to the manager. The Flag State knows this when they issue a Safe Manning Certificate, hiding behind the notion that crews’ commercial duties are not their concern when they deliberately short man ships. They will claim that it is the responsibility of managers and Masters to ensure sufficiently rested crews. In short, not my problem.


The managers will point out that they are complying with all regulations and absurdly minimal manning certificates. Masters will bemoan the fact that they cannot operate ships with skeleton crews without completely ignoring fatigue. We have gone round this mulberry bush many times. It is tiring.


However, there is a way, as I discovered when I barred crew on one such ship from involvement in cargo securing at about fifteen ports a month. This, after a helmsman was found nodding while steering in the North Sea. Obviously, the stuff hit the fan after my decision. Charterers, owners, managers and supercargoes decended on me. Accountants whipped out calculators and told me how much money and time they would lose by having to arrange expensive shore securing gangs who would work only on a ‘separate lashing gangs required and to be paid during ship’s total stay in port’ basis. The crew weren’t happy either, for obvious reasons. I stuck to my guns, perhaps because I was tired and fatigued by it all. Surprisingly, I kept my job, perhaps because this was a couple of years ago.


Pardon me, therefore, for saying that I for one cannot understand what the Antari hoohaa is all about, because it is crystal clear to me that regulatory authorities in general and managers in particular have no intent to solve this problem. Periodic brouhahas after accidents over more than a decade have resulted in nothing more than hand wringing and finger pointing; the Antari incident promises to be one such. I predict that the wringing hands will be washed soon, though all the perfumes of Arabia may not be enough.



The buck stops, as it often does, with the Master. I should put my foot down more often.












On board Contingency Plans are too many in number and too complicated in implementation. Sometimes we take the ‘What if’ question a little too far. I have periodic nightmares of Superintendents sitting over coffee and risk assessment, one telling the other, “What if they crash into a whale, or even a mermaid? We need a contingency plan for that!”


As a Master, I have sometimes wondered if I am even aware of all the various contingency plans in the manual, worrying that if there is an emergency, I may not realise that the mandarins of mayhem have it well covered. On paper, at least.


Slightly more seriously, some contingency plans are useful, prime examples being abandoing ship, fire, collision, grounding, oil pollution, pirate attack, man overboard and crew injury. Unfortunately, there have usually been more than a dozen contingency plans each on the ships I have sailed on recently, most of them doing nothing more than cluttering emergency planning and diluting the point of the exercise.


Contingency planning must be focused and operationally sharp. It must take into account the level of staffing on ships these days and the fact that small crews are more likely to be overwhelmed by a spreading and escalating emergency more than ever before. It must allow for the time consuming and complicated reporting requirements that are commonplace these days, and that some officers may not be fluent in the language of the emergency manuals on board. It must have, ashore, a Superintendent and a DPA who are completely familiar with the ship (Superintendents often are, DPAs are often not). Finally, contingency planning must cover the most threatening likely emergencies and no more. Twenty contingency plans may look impressive on paper, but the system is unworkable in practice. The planning must be focused and simple. It appalls me, for example, when “Emergency Stations Muster Lists’ occupy entire bulkheads, because I can almost guarantee that many crewmembers have not understood their elaborate, confusing and often conflicting duties. Drills would be conducted in an atmosphere of crisp urgency without confusing crews as to their duties, if the contingency planning were simpler.


How much simpler? Tongue in cheek now, an example from a Norwegian engineer in a Montreal bar, who had me in splits with his ‘Shipboard contingency plan in the event of a nuclear attack’.
It went something like this:

• When you become aware of the occurrence of a nuclear attack, call the Master and sound Emergency Stations.
• Try not to panic, or at least avoid screaming.
• To prevent being struck by flying debris, get under the table and make your profile as small as possible by placing your head between your knees with your fingers interlaced behind your head. The head must be well between the knees for the next step.
• Kiss your ass goodbye.
  
  
  Thank you for your attention.
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An attitude for survival.

A few years ago I faced, without doubt, the most dangerous crisis in my life at sea while in Command. Later, even after the dust had settled and the emergency forgotten, it took me quite awhile to analyse events; this happened slowly and long after the danger was past. Looking back at similar events in my career, I realised that while there are the inevitable 'what ifs' and 'maybes' to any such situation, there are many commonalities to an emergency too.

A break up of these common factors will have, usually, some or a combination of these elements: Long before the event, a safety element or two disregarded or underplanned, commercial pressure, fatigue, incorrect advice from ashore and mistakes made on board; sometimes numerous small mistakes which add up to a potential catastrophe. And luck.

During the emergency, a few of the crew will think and act appropriately on their feet, some will be beset by inertia and paralysis; annoyingly, some of the time will be consumed by sometimes useless communication. Other factors like fatigue, stress, equipment problems and morale are also common. And luck.

After the emergency, the management of the incident on board and ashore, operationally and otherwise, is the main imperative. Unfortunately, we tend to ignore one factor, a human one; the long term effect on the crew of a stressful life threatening situation.


It is easy to say that a Master, like all other seafarers, is trained to deal with emergencies, and stop there. My brief here is not to dispute the adequacy of our training, though I could well do that, it being a view I hold. However, my intention here is to suggest what I believe are good steps which should be taken on board in handling emergencies. That is, in addition to what we normally do.

I hasten to add that what I say is not meant to be a manual of any sort; just small things which I believe make a big difference. Though written for Masters, this may be helpful for everybody on board.

(I must stress that these are just some of the steps which happen to work for me and that I believe that there will be better and more cogent solutions from better Masters than myself. It is a pity we don't have a professional forum to tune this list and make it much better. We really should.)


Before the emergency

· I would put a 'Command mindset' on top of my list of essentials. Frankly, this includes the ability to say NO when safety or integrity is involved. No to everybody, from God to the Devil. Masters must learn to say no. This has to be cultivated in oneself beforehand; when the faecal matter hits the fan it is usually too late. Plan for safety. Say no to everything which comes in the way, including to the owners. That is part of your job. The thought should be: safety is my job and my responsibility and my decision. Inputs are welcome (provided they don't become useless and time consuming communication, especially in an emergency) but, in the end, this baby is mine.
· Safety is a continuous process. Plan beforehand. Do attend routinely to commonly downgraded or taken for granted (in today's busy commercial world) aspects of cargo, lashings, cargo shift possibilities, free surface effects in tanks, stability, watertight integrity, soundings, ventilation, securing high splash areas like the fo'cle and weather routeing services. Ignore checklists for this purpose. A Master's routine rounds starting soon after sailing works much better. Push a safety culture on board which stresses the importance of doing the basic things right. This is more important on short sea trades where routines are prone to be ignored. Anybody who has sailed in areas like the South China Sea or the North Sea on short sea trades will agree with me that weather does not look at the trade and neither does a fire, and that a typhoon can kill you as surely ten miles from the coast as a hundred.
· Be on top of safety issues unique to the kind of ship or its run. Educate yourself beforehand; if required, ask for information from the office.
· Do not accept dangerously low fuel reserves. Another common pressure tactic utilised which we often tend to succumb to. A voyage can easily take a few days longer, and often does. Fuel consumptions can be higher than anticipated for a variety of reasons. I for one don't want to run into bad weather and worry about running out of fuel at the same time.
· Make the fact that safety is your priority known to the officers, crew, managers and owners in said and unsaid ways. By doing so, you draw a line in the sand politely; it makes your life easier. In any case, you will be surprised how many support you even as some others will apply commercial pressure on you.
· Keep yourself updated regularly on board of deck and engine machinery problems. Build a rapport with senior officers for this purpose. (Avoid the CYA or blame game. It is a game with no winners.) An overview of possible problems is essential for a Master to gauge cascading effects of these and also to handle emergencies. Synchronicity of events can kill as surely as an explosion.


During the emergency:

This is not, as seen in one Cadet's dubious training text book, an exercise of "If the ship runs aground, stop engines immediately". This is a mindset exercise for professionals. My suggestions here:

· Think. Don't let yourself be overwhelmed by minutiae. Think about what can get worse, what else can go wrong and what your options are. Think ahead and be prepared. Shortlist reliable officers and crew in your mind for critical tasks. Keep thinking, like a chess game, as many steps ahead as you can cope with.
· Remain in Command and keep morale up. Keep calm. Panic spreads. Cultivate an attitude of 'us against the world' on board at these times. This keeps morale up as much as anything else, in my experience.
· Coordinate. Self explanatory, really, but what is not is that an individual's ability to multitask becomes critical. Speed and accuracy are vital here.
· Keep spare bandwidth. Don't run on top gear but keep some physical and mental reserve. You will probably need it sometime, and then you can move into top gear for awhile. This helps you keep physical and mental control, too.
· Seek information and opinions from on board and ashore, if required. Be aware that some will assume you are trying to pass on your responsibility by doing so and will bring this up much later as a Command failure. This does not matter. You are solving the problem. Besides, dogs bark. The caravan passes.
· Solve the problem and forget the peripherals. The smaller or the less important stuff, like heaven, can wait.
· Delegate. We are dependant on very basic things as well as big ones at sea. Everything from a torch and a walkie talkie to an Act of God can be critical at different times. So, delegate the small stuff to junior officers and the medium level stuff to seniors. Do not delegate a Master's decisions and actions; those are yours alone. If you start delegating these you start losing your authority. Chaos and panic can result quickly.
· Keep a log and records; this can also be delegated. Take photographs if possible and applicable.
· Be aware that some ashore will already be preparing for financial catastrophe while you are fighting for your life. That’s ok, that is their job. However, it is not your priority, so minimise non essential communication with shore/commercial interests. In fact, minimise all communication with shore unless seeking information, especially specialist information. Tell them so. Your concentration should be on the problem in your face. Do not let communication paralyse action.
· Be aware that you will hear, "Captain, you are in command, it's your decision" more often. Be well aware of the reasons for this statement, and for the fact that some firms will be recording what is being said on the phone.





After the emergency

· Make a conscious effort to defuse the pressure the crew has been under.
· Be aware much of the crew, and you may be suffering from PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I would advise any Master to have a basic knowledge of its symptoms. When it first hit me many years ago, it took me awhile to recognise what it was). Be aware that the maritime world will do nothing to address this; a seaman is expected to be the strong and silent type, and get ulcers.
· Be aware this is the time personnel problems will surface on board. Release of pressure can create its own problems.
· Be aware that many interests will now start playing the blame game and 'protecting their interests', often a euphemism for blaming the crew if they can.
· Stand up for your crew and officers who have performed well under pressure. And stand up to those who try to point unfair fingers at you.


And, when the accountants and their calculators take over the ship, take a minute to be satisfied with yourself. Leave the self analysis for later; it is too soon right now. Distance lends perspective, and one needs that if one wants to learn from this incident.

In closing, and as said before, this article is oriented more towards a workable mindset than a checklist for action; we already have enough of those, though shipping casualty rates continue to rise worldwide inspire (or maybe because) of them.

My suggestions are a psychological exercise; an attitude I find useful to have when Joyce's "scrotumtightening sea", or indeed any other crisis, comes knocking on your door.


Sometimes, the right attitude is half the war.









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