We were dead in the water at night with ten-foot waves on the Gulf of Mexico. The silent Pollyanna had swung around so the rolling swells hit her broadside, rocking us side to side. One moment, the port side outrigger was way up in the night air, while a moment later it was several feet off the rising swells. Up and down, up and down as the boat floated up one side of the wave, then down the other side. Rocking forcefully, side to side.
There was a terrible tangle hanging from that left outrigger. When we raised that side’s otter trawl rigging, it had become entangled with the right side “try net” rigging, meaning there was a large cable under the boat’s hull, potentially entangling the five-foot bronze propeller. The try net is a miniature version of the two big nets. It is used to indicate when the large nets are full and need to be emptied on the boat’s working deck. Upon seeing the tangled mess, Captain Cooper had immediately shut off the engine, turning the propeller, leaving us adrift in the night.
What he did next exemplified the self-reliance necessary to commercially fish the ocean. It also demonstrated the dangers in doing so. He climbed to the end of the outrigger as it rose and fell. Us three crew members watch as he laid on that narrow steel barrier between him and the sea. He held on with one hand while he tried to untangle some of the mess. He was fully lit by the boats’ working lights, contrasting the darkness beyond him. His efforts were limited. He next climbed down on the eightfoot oak and steel doors of the tangle. That put him high in the air as the boat rocked, then plunged him totally underwater as he struggled with the heavy chain. He wore no life jacket or safety rope. When he rose out of the water, he sputtered and gasped for air before he went under again. The three of us on the safety of the boat weren’t breathing at all.
At one point, Captain Cooper called my name with instructions to bring him a gaff. Me? I don’t remember if it was Tommy or Little Jimmy who handed me the long wooden pole with a metal hook at one end. The gaff. I looked at him as he silently gestured for me to get out to help the captain. If you really want to see what we had to do, search an internet image of “shrimp boat otter trawl rigging”. The outrigger’s support cable was overhead near the boat, giving me plenty to grip as I walked the narrow steel to Captain Cooper. Since that cable was attached to the end of the outrigger, there was almost no leverage for me to balance above the captain. As he rose out of the water, I rose too. Way above the waves. When he was completely submerged, I was standing just feet above the water.
I got instructions when the captain could speak. Hold the gaff’s pole while he used the hook to untangle chains. When I felt him tug, I was to pull the gaff to lift the chain. I was adrenalinefueled, so I really pulled when I felt the first tug. He came out of the water sputtering and yelling to release the gaff as I had hooked him in his right elbow. When he was submerged, I couldn’t see him, and he couldn’t see either, so we had to work by feel underwater. It took some time, but we eventually lifted the chain, undid tangles, and worked the problem until the try net with its rigging sank into the ocean. Little Jimmy used the winch to reel the errant equipment back to its normal position. I carried the gaff back down the pitching outrigger as a waterlogged captain followed me. I was so weak-kneed once I got on board that I could barely walk to the galley, causing a little chuckle from the captain as he put his soggy arm around my shoulders. All he said was, “You did good, Lawrence.”
Captain changed into dry clothes before he restarted the engine. We all calmed our nerves in the galley, drinking coffee and eating cake I had baked earlier. The Pollyanna idled and rocked on the dark, rolling Gulf of Mexico. Then we got back to work.
I later wondered why Captain Cooper asked me to help, as I was the least experienced of his three-man crew. My logical thinking was that Tommy was unreliable as an alcoholic, even though drinking was forbidden on the boat. Little Jimmy was more experienced at the delicate usage of the winches as parts of the tangle could be removed. The captain was obviously in danger should any mishap occur. That left me. The episode made me more aware and watchful in the future as I experienced leaders choosing among their team. Teams of all kinds, including office staff, construction crews, and helpers in Native ceremonies.
I noticed that effective leaders had a kind of perception for which there is little language. It appeared to me that these leaders looked beyond credentials and time in the field to observe actual, effective performance, willingness, and attentiveness among team members. A highly structured and routinized organization needs one kind of team, but a spontaneous, dynamic set of circumstances requires other skills within the team. I am currently a member of the Hovland Volunteer Fire Department, and I can tell you the firefighters are spontaneously called to dynamic events. They are effective, willing, and pay attention in the performance of their critical job. The act of stepping up to volunteer for anything indicates assets and ethics not formally taught but learned through lived experience.
In Native ceremonies, I have seen first time individuals arrive unsure of why they were there. Those newcomers were also unsure of the outcome of what they sought. Effective ceremonial leaders are perceptive enough to build on the willingness and risks taken by those newcomers. Leaders facilitate a ceremony to help all participants learn and receive what they came for. The leaders’ work is spiritual in nature by using clear vision and deep perception of those on the “team”. Without necessarily calling it spiritual, the most effective leadership of any kind uses clear vision and perception to achieve the best from their team. It takes a wise leader to recognize the difference between technical skills and the “soft skills” residing in personal attributes, interpersonal actions, and behavior traits. Praises and blessings on wise leadership.
