Houseboat Charter - Caroline

Chartering Caroline

I'd sold my trawler and had been between boats for quite some time. I
thought I'd see if I could get a couple guys together to charter a trawler.
The original crew of 3 soon turned to 4 and then to 6 beside myself.

Withthe larger than planned crew, 'we' sought a boat more accommodating than a
trawler – 'we' settled on a 47' Holiday Mansion Houseboat for 4 days & 3
nights.

This was turning out to be a far cry from the leisurely trawler cruise I
had in mind, and I agreed to follow through only if the 'crew' agreed to
take turns at the helm. All that would be required of me would be to know
the way to the marina when it was time to head home. "OK…Sure, No
Problem," was the unanimous cry from the enthusiastic 'crew'.

We arrived at the marina well before noon, hoping to begin our adventure
early in the day. The fellow at the marina told us the boat had just been
serviced and pronounced in excellent condition. He gave us a quick tour
and then proceeded to show us how to lite up the twin 454's…except the
batteries were dead. Using jumper cables, there was no configuration of
engine batteries and or the generator battery that would bring any of the
internal combustion engines to life. After 30 minutes on the charger the
stronger battery still wouldn't crank that big 454, and after trying the
charger for 30 minutes on the other battery with no luck, we waited while
they installed a brand new battery on one of the engines. The second
engine was started by jumping it off the new battery, as was the generator
– "Those weak batteries will come right up after you run the engines for
awhile".

The fellow at the marina then brought the boat around to the fuel dock
where we loaded her up. Unfortunately, we turned off the mills while we
were getting our gear aboard and had to jump the second 454 from the new
battery to get both engines running. The generator wouldn't respond to
jumping and the mechanic was called. The generator was brought to life
before we departed, but none of us knew what had been done to get it
running.

"OK, who is taking her away from the dock", I inquired?

"You are!" they all responded.

"I thought you all agreed I wouldn't take a turn at the helm?" I reminded
them.

"We lied!", was the retort.

They each grabbed a beer and I took the wheel (I didn't drink at the time). The first
thing I did as helmsman was to fetch the duct tape from my ditty bag to
secure the broken windscreen that was flapping in the breeze. We toured the
Beaufort waterfront before heading out the inlet to Cape Lookout. I
insisted that someone else take the wheel as we steered for the bight.
It didn't take my study long to learn to steer the visual course toward
Power Squadron Spit. I went below to check the bilges, then pulled the
hatches to make sure everything was OK in the engine compartment. I nearly
ended up on top of one of the engines as the boat lurched forward, the
engines winding up, up, up. I dashed up to the flybridge to see what had
happened. The fellow at the wheel still had his hand on the throttles,
encouraging them to move beyond their high speed stop. This fellow became
known as Redline; you couldn't trust him to run at any speed less than wide
open.

We dropped the hook in the bight and backed down on the Danforth. She
fetched up with a snap that convinced me we were secure. After a time on
the beach, they settled in for beer, steak and then videos of, well, what
videos would you expect from a bunch of guys. They passed the cell phone
around for everyone to call home, but the phone soon got cantankerous and
had to be smacked before it would call out. Hot showers for all, then it
was time to turn in. But wait, the lights in the head quit working before
the last shower. I found if you hit the bulkhead near the switch, the
lights would go on. I placed the cell phone near the switch – that way you
could hit the bulkhead with the phone and you'd get both light and a dial
tone.

I ended up in the forward berth, in the foc'sl, down a half flight of
stairs just shy of the chain locker – there was room for two of us down
there. There was ankle deep water on the floor; I took off my shoes and
pulled the bilge pump. It worked fine after I removed the glob of hair
from around the intake. We had our own head, and I was awakened at about
3am because it would fill, but it wouldn't empty. My cabin mate had tried
to use it and ended up flooding the cabin sole with the (solid) contents.
I found the intake and closed it, then fiddled with the controls until I
got the head to pump dry.

I never miss coffee at sunup, but there were bodies all over the main
salon, so I waited until the 'crew' came to. After a leisurely breakfastwe decided to haul in the anchor. The windlass slipped so badly itwouldn't even move the boat up to the anchor. I discovered that the bow roller assembly had fallen off during the night (into the water) and the
rode was dragging directly over the glass deck. The rode came aboard
through a small opening at the bow – the only option was to grab the rode
and manually haul it in over the rail. I hesitated to use the engines with
5 guys pulling on the line (the 6th taking videos).

I could have had them tie it off to a cleat, but there were no cleats substantial enough to put up much resistance, so we just manhandled the anchor in. We considered
just cutting the rode to allow us to get under way, but there was only the
single anchor. It took us over an hour to get the anchor aboard.
Gorgeous day, flat seas…the Crew asked if we could take her out to see the
Gulf Stream. "Why not?", they whined. I finally consented to heading
offshore a few miles.

They took turns keeping her on the 'highway' presented by the GPS (which I
extracted from my ditty bag) as we made our way to the waypoint a couple
miles offshore. I turned the helm over to Redline when a crew member came
up requesting my presence below…something about water in the forward berth.
I took off my shoes and socks and rolled up my pants in preparation for
clearing the bilge pump again, only this time there was no clog, and the
water was now approaching shin deep. I checked to see if the head was
overflowing and turned off the intake valve just in case. After checking
the opening ports (one of which was not dogged), I finally discovered the
real source of the water when I opened the hatch to the chain locker and
could see water gushing in at the joint between the lower hull and the
upper (houseboat) hull. No worries mate – just get Redline off the helm
and slow down enough to keep the bow wave out of the joint.
I almost had a mutiny on my hands when I ordered a 180. Besides the leak,
I had shown the crew that while burning 50+ gallons an hour, if we did make
the Gulf Stream, we'd run out of fuel long before we got back to port.
They seemed to be able to live with the leak and the possibility of running
out of fuel... it wasn't until they discovered that the cell phone had
totally given up the ghost AND we were out of water for showers that we had
a unanimous vote to return to port.

Guess who was elected to bring her in to the gas dock? We took on a couple
hundred gallons of gas and filled up the water tank(s). Hey, we were now
set for our second nite. Better check the oil in the engines though, just
to be on the safe side. The port engine took 4 quarts of oil (the stbd
engine only took two). And the generator wouldn't start. We messed with
the generator control panel for about half an hour with no results. I
finally opened up a pair of pliers, putting one handle on the battery cable
and the other directly to the starter on the generator and Wallah!, she lit
up and we had 120VAC. Oops, not quite ready to cast off…a couple guys
still needed to call their honey back home, but in only a matter of hours
we were on our way up the ICW to the Neuse.

We flawlessly negotiated the ICW to the Neuse River Junction off Maw Pt
Shoal, then headed back to Cedar Creek to drop the hook. We anchored
successfully, using a type IV cushion to protect the rode from chafing on
the rail. Dinner was shrimp kabobs marinated in Italian dressing; cooked
outside on the charcoal grill – delicious.  

We were the obnoxious guys y'all talk about in the anchorage, being loud, boisterous and running the genset all night.

With the previous experience (the morning before), we had the up anchor
routine pretty well under control. In no time we were leisurely making our
way back south down the ICW, ending up at the Beaufort Inlet. We started
out the inlet, to go back to Cape Lookout, but the inlet was rough and we
decided not to test the integrity of the leaky joint, so we turned back.
Redline took us back in, bouncing us over every wake. We decided to have a
nice leisurely look at the Beaufort waterfront – considering perhaps a trip
to Lookout via the inside route past Harkers Island. I insisted on idle
speed in Taylor Creek and took the helm myself to ensure we were courteous
and proper to other boaters in this confined space. As we passed the post
office, the fellow sitting next to me on the flybridge asked me if I
smelled something. I said, "yes, it smelled like macaroni and cheese."

Then the smell got acrid and stronger. I pushed my buddy in front of the
wheel, dashed down and threw open the engine hatch – nothing. As I was
closing the hatch I heard a cry from the cabin, "FIRE!"

I turned around to see a foot of black dense smoke at ceiling level. There
were two guys in front of the stove as I hurriedly approached, one of them
moving a large (trash can type) container up toward the flaming stove top.
I jumped in behind him and grabbed the container to help him pour the
contents on the fire. The container was in fact a trash can, full of
papers and garbage. To this day I don't know what plan he had for that
container… Anyway, another crew member approached from forward, picking up
a fire extinguisher on the way. As he emptied the contents on the blaze I
searched for another extinguisher. There were none in the aft area, but
another guy found a second extinguisher and discharged on the blaze –
extinguishing it.

The stove was a disaster, the curtains were totaled, the coach roof was a
black mess and the floor was covered in extinguisher powder, but no one was
hurt.

"That's it! Cruise over!" I exclaimed. While we waited for the bridge to
open to get back to the marina, they began cleaning up the mess. We needed
a little more clean up time as we approached the fuel dock, so I lazily
circled while they worked below. All of a sudden, one of the crew flew
onto the flybridge and jammed the portable VHF in my face.

"It's for you, it's for you," he said guiltily.

I took the VHF and listened as the caller said, "Caroline, Caroline, this
is the marina, do you need some help?"

The guy next to me said, "They must have seen the smoke."

I told the marina we were just getting ready to bring her back in. He
said, "OK", and was there to take a line as I approached.

It was my card which was used to guarantee the security deposit -
$1,000…and my crew helpfully suggested that I get a lawyer, or take other
similar actions rather than surrendering the money. But they
all did chip in their share when I didn't get anything back.

There are many, many lessons here – I'm sure I don't need to point them all
out. But I will make one suggestion:
Know the location of all the fire extinguishers on your boat, and through
practice fire drills make the fire procedure second nature.

And for extra credit – answer the following:
What did Nick tell the Crew when they asked if they could do it all again
next year?

Fairwinds,
Nick in Spartanburg, SC