The Freeze
Up
As I
remember it.
This one particular year (’78 I think it was)
the ice, moving up the bay shifted sharp’s Island Lighthouse on her foundation.
To this day, every trip I make up or down the bay, when I see that cockeyed
lighthouse, I think about those times. That was as cold as I have ever been
before or since! The old men said that nor wester(the relentless north west
wind) was so cold , “it’a cut your eye winkers off!
Earlier that same winter , before the really
hard freeze , we hauled out dad’s boat to nail stainless steel sheathing around
her waterline to protect the wooden hull from ice. Sometimes I think back on
nailing those nails into the grid laid out on the metal. The nails were too
small to hold with gloved hands so we would work barehanded for a while and
then have to stop and warm our hands again. Those were some long cold days!
Dad and I
were returning to port one afternoon, breaking the thin “windowpane” ice that
had been forming. Let’s just say you
haven’t lived until you’ve tried breaking ice in a wooden boat. Of course by
now you will have heard all the stories of boats being cut open or stove in
after running through ice.
We were
sitting in the warm cabin, next to the kerosene heater . Suddenly a rat jumped
off the stern of the boat and went skittering across the ice. I turned and
asked dad “ what is it they always say about rats leaving a sinking ship?” We
laughed over that story for many years.
Later in the
winter, the ice was about eighteen to twenty four inches thick all over the
bay. The oyster business was brought to full stop. All of our wooden work boats
and all the skipjacks were ice bound and locked in the harbor , no wooden boat could
ever force her way through that!
There was nothing
we could do but check on the boats every day, shovel the snow out of the cargo
hold warm the engines and thaw out the bilge pumps.
There was a
marine supply store there, near the main dock on the island. Fuel and supplies
were on hand and the watermen would always congregate there during the early
mornings or during times of bad weather. This was one of those times.
The men
unable to go out and tong for oysters were all gathered around. There were
benches and chairs set up in the main part of the store, gallons of coffee were
drunk and a thick pall of cigarette smoke hung in the air.
It was then
those old men started with their stories, about how they took their old Model T
Fords out on the ice and pulled oyster dredges so they could make a living. Of course,
a least according to them, the weather was much colder and the ice much thicker
than it is now.
That’s all
it took for us younger watermen, we couldn’t be out done by those old men! Some
of the guys went out and found some old junk cars that would still run. They cut
off doors and fenders in order to reduce weight. Dredges, rope, chainsaws and
axes appeared and several crews were formed.
We set out
to the nearest oyster bar and went to work. It wasn’t long before two Marine
Police officers showed up to make us stop. Using a dredge (hand scrape we
called it) in these waters was illegal! The officers announced from the beach
that we were to stop dredging immediately. We all knew these officers and they
knew us, we all respected each other’s position.
One of the
guys asked “Well, what if we don’t stop?” The officers replied “well I guess
we’ll have to arrest all of you.” Everyone laughed; there were only two
officers and about fifty or sixty of us! Of course they knew that we were only
trying to make a living. The next day the state made an emergency ruling that
we could in fact continue dredging.
The crew I
was with didn’t take the time to find a car, at first, we thought we could
heave all that gear and the oysters in a
wooden skiff we had.We soon found that was way too heavy. My dad volunteered his old 66 Chevy Pick Up. Towing
the skiff and all our gear behind us went out onto the bay and got to work. We
were about a mile offshore.
Everything
went great and we caught quite a few bushels of oysters. Deciding we’d had
enough for one day we loaded up and started back for shore. Two guys riding in
the truck and the loaded skiff towing along behind. The rest of us walk-stumbled
across the rough saltwater ice toward the shore.
Suddenly the
truck dug into the ice diving headlong into the frigid water. The guy on the
passenger side was able to jump clear but the driver was trapped and started to
go down with the truck! He went up to his waist when one of the guys grabbed
him by the arm and yanked him up and out.
All of us
shed some of our clothes to try to get him warmed up. We still had the skiff
and all of our gear and the oysters. We slowly made our way back to shore
pulling the skiff and all our gear. It was a tough, brutal few hours until we
made it back to the landing.
After we
sold the oysters and divvied up the money, we all chipped in to pay dad for his
truck, at the end of the day I think we all cleared about four dollars! That
was the end of my dredging on the ice.
PART II – THE ICE BEGINS TO BREAK UP
Later in the
spring as the ice was beginning to break up we were finally able to get out and
start tonging again. The state tug boat “ Big Lou” had broken a track through
the ice for us so we could go to work. Several boats had made it out to a
nearby oyster bar and we went to work. Most of the boats had three or four guys
aboard so everyone could make a little money. No one had worked and times were
tight.
The wind
breezed up and began to blow hard out of the south. The ice began to move and
soon jammed all the boats together and with a relentless force began to crush
and grind on the wooden hulls.
My uncle’s
boat, the “Miss Mattaponi” was holed and began sinking. We were alongside and
able to take all the crew and some of his gear aboard with us.
We called
for help hoping that the “Big Lou” could
turn around and reach us in time.
The “Big
Lou” made it to us. Her crew put a large pump on the “Miss Mattaponi” and took
her in tow. All of the other boats fell in behind for the harrowing trip back
to the narrows.
Large chunks
of ice, kicked up by the tug would wash back and slam into us. Some smaller
pieces would float up under under the unprotected wood hull, gouging into the
bottom planking or grinding through propeller blades.
Many homes and businesses had marine radios
and could listen as the near disaster unfolded. Finally as we made it safely
ashore it seemed the whole island had turned out to meet us.
I would like to note here , during all this
–those Captains knew their wives and families would hear their conversations.
Of course there was some urgency in their request for help, but there was no
fear or panic in their voices.
It was the
following year and another brutally cold winter, we lost the Hay Russ IV with 5
men aboard the owner and captain, Garland Phillips was my cousin. All the men
aboard were related. Tilghman’s Island was at that time a small close knit community.
The Hay Russ
IV was a brand new fiberglass boat designed to work the Chesapeake Bay. That
winter they were gillnetting out in the bay when she was lost. It was a sad
time for all the families on the island. I was working on tug boats at that
time. The Captain called me up to the Pilothouse to inform me of the sinking.
I was aboard
a tug when the Claud Somers Sank off Hooper’s Island . We were towing out of
the Nanticoke River , Bound for North Carolina. We could see lights off to the
West and we could hear the coast guard on the VHF Radio mounting a rescue and
recovery operation.
Sadly those
fellows, the entire crew, was lost to the Chesapeake Bay. I never knew the guys
personally but their loss was keenly felt by all of who make their living from
the bay.
Captain Joe
Phillips
Aboard S/V
Tarry Not
Gwynn Island
VA
