maritime salvage tales of the unexpected

8/14/2019 Maritime Salvage Tales of the unexpected...

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Roosendaal, the Netherlands,

March 08, 2009

Dear reader,

First time I am trying Sea-speak here, English

in a simple form that I learned along the way.

Following, you will find some info about my

person.

Author: G. A. C. Theunisse.

Short: Geert Theunisse.

Born: 06 -15 -1941. Nationality: Dutch.

Family status: Since 1970 happily married to

Rina. (One son).

Occupation: Former owner of a Maritime-

Salvage-Company (retired).

Bio: A bit too long Im afraid

Started in 1973 with a small but later-on

rather well known Salvage Company,

situated along the River Volkerak, a part of theformer estuary waters of the North Sea in the

Zuid-Holland en Zeeland Provinces of The

Netherlands. In time, I acquired a solid status

as a Government paid Rescue and Firefighting


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station, and also official status as a SAR Unit.

A Search and Rescue Unit resorting under the

Coastguard part of the Dutch Navy.

I managed to keep up with this tough and

heavy line of work until the end of 1995. Then,

the old sack of bones was finally letting me

down. I sold the place and we, my wife and I,

wandered off into the great wide world. We did

so by private boat of course. We made a five-

year long trip, visiting many countries and

places. Among them, we spend two years by

far the best in fact - on the Eastern Seaboard

from the great, great USA.

And Im not kissing ass here!During my work in the salvage business, I did

725 salvage and rescue jobs on all kinds of

ships, in the greatest possible variety of

difficulties. Some of them right down

dangerous, some of them easy. All those jobsare also as many stories. Some of them,

actually most of them, happy ending, some

ending funny and some sad.

During the last years from our long boat-trip, I


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started reminiscing about some of those stories

again, and since I kept the whole lot pretty well

documented, I sat down to write about them.

Why in the world should you read my books?

Wellhuh, because I sort of was asked for.

When we traveled along the Eastern Seaboard,

from Key-West, FL in the south, up to Camden,

NJ in the north, vice-versa, twice, we met many

other boaters, as well as shore-people of

course. Among them were, besides a large

number of US-civilians, also many people from

your Coastguard, Firefighters, Police, folks

from Sea-tow and Boat-US, etc, all visiting usonboard and vice-versa. We had long and

pleasant talks with everybody about everything,

having a wonderful good time, those two years

over there with you folks.

They liked also my maritime stories, a lot infact. Better still, all of them feverously

applauded the idea about writing them down

once, and they finally pushed me into it.

Sowell, this is the main reason that you are


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reading this.

My writing is not fiction; it is straight out of real

life. The good life we lived and survived so far.

Challenges and hardship, but also joyful, even

glorious moments, are plentiful in my stories, I

didnt need to beef them up. They happened as

I wrote them down. To be honest, I did not care

much for any more artificial thrills anyway,

working as I was in a very real and sometimes

wild trade.

Of course, I started to write the manuscripts in

my native tongue, being Dutch. When the first

one was finished, I tried to get it published,

tried that is. Anyway, The Netherlands is just avery tiny country with a rather small readers

audience, and would-be writers growing in

abundance.

Therefore, now I just started trying to write in

English, mutilating this beautiful language inthe process, and very probably causing all by

myself the reason that I shall flunk it also this

time. At least I try to flunk in front of a much

bigger readers-audience now!


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My poor and insufficient excuse is that I never

studied any foreign language. Now that I come

to think of it, I didnt study much about

anything! I somewhat, somehow just picked

things up by occasion along the line that is

called life.

From my little notion of the English language, I

learned most during our extended visits of the

United States. So if its really crap, dont blame

me, blame my teachers and hit delete to finish

me off!

As soon as I finish one manuscript in proper

English, I will let you know.

Anyhow, this English writing of me, I guess, isthe same gamble like back in the old days,

arriving at the scene of a vessel in trouble,

almost sank already, sky-high grounded,

helplessly drifting without engine or rudder in

stormy weather, or engulfed in roaring flames:If we dont try it now, we sure loose it!

Therefore, we went on, working our tail off

again

Yours truly, Geert Theunisse


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Salvage tug Furie-3, still going strong today

From the book: Hurricanes & side effects

Copyright Geert Theunisse 2004

Preface

Those are little but true stories and all names,

ships and institutions are very real. I did not

feel like changing anything of them because

some folks just dont deserve that. Some

mentioned people just deserve being named

because of their genuine and positive attitude


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every odd time when you call on them. Some

of the named institutions just deserve to being

exposed by all means and methods, and thats

all there is to it. Particularly one of them

happens to be the Dutch Government

The following little tale is about the difficulties

of a small- scale ships salvage company, about

the wonderful things that can happen in the

tough daily existence and adventures of this

trade. I dont emphasize especially now the

hard labor on waves in turmoil and all that crap,

but more about the stuff that should follow after

the job is been done well. This time I mean

collecting the cold hard cash!Especially this part of the job can sometimes

lead to nice and even slightly hilarious

situations of great mystification and suspense,

during which enterprises one can end up at

thrilling locations and meeting unusual people.With great pleasure, I sometimes linger back

into those adventures.

Have Fun! Geert Theunisse


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HURRICANE AT THE HARINGVLIET

By Geert Theunisse

FOREPLAY

January 31, 1983 was itblowing like hell in a

terrible blizzard when the empty British coaster

Greta-C - with indeed very little ballast taken

in - entered the port of Dintelsas. The tide was


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just dead-high, with another 4 Ft on top of it,

because of the very strong wind blowing for

two days now and driving vast amounts of

surge water from the North Sea into the

Eastern-Scheld estuary.

Greta was heading for the Lock, but this had

temporary closed, with the double red lights on

because of the high water. Therefore, she first

had to tie-up at the jetty on her starboard side

to wait before the lock could reopen again. The

wind was wild and straight off. The Bosun and

two deckhands managed to fasten a bow-

spring, in the three seconds that the captain

could close-in the bow to the jetty enough, andthe ship started slowly to try moving her stern

towards the jetty. This is common and even

standard procedure to handle a vessel of this

small sizeunder normal circumstances. Ships

of this size very seldom ask for tug assistancefor mooring and/or any other harbor

movements, for economic reasons, of course.

However, because of a very nasty outburst of

wind at the precise moment the slowly


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swinging ship started to expose her starboard

broadside more and more to the wind forces -

building up multiple Tons of pressure on this

large and still growing surface - the Captain,

already in need of significant horsepower to

keep sweet Greta moving in the first place,

gave another push against the telegraph for

more power on the propeller

Heavy and large, sticky flakes of horizontal

wind-driven snow had first completely covered

the wheelhouse front windows, and was now

very rapidly blinding the starboard side

windows, isolating the captain behind the

wheel from the outside world, totally blurringhis sight on the jettyand causing him to think

that his ship was not moving any more. So

again, he pushed the throttle just a little more -

close to full power now - with the rudder

already hard to port; doing so, quadrupling theforces on the rope because of the angles

between the rudder, the ships hull, the wind

force, and the bow-spring, finally resulting in a

terrible - fatal - strain on the poor bow spring


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That is why this rope finally snapped, and in no

time, the coaster taken by the wind smashed

onto the rocky boulders from which the dike on

the windward canal side had been built.

From a nearby farmhouse, the crash was

clearly seen and the terrifying droning - BANG -

loudly heard. Thus, the farmer called me:

Geert, I dont believe that everything goes well

at the Lock-entrance. Maybe you should take a

look over there.

I pulled the whistle from my salvage tug Fury-2

twice shortly to call for my runner Tony and a

few minutes later the two of us went over there;

and sure the Captain liked it very much beinghauled off that rocky spot he landed on. Like

because of the water very soon going down a

good twelve Ft. or so, and all that crap

P... Please, help me out of here very quickly! If

thats possible at all?We placed the towrope at her stern and with

one mighty swing; we pulled dear Greta from

the rocks and back into the deep! Fury-2 nearly

capsized in the process, but it sure helped. The


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British Captain in great relieve, hung bungling

on his whistle cord for quite some time! Tony

came to the wheelhouse, still a little pale

around his nose and told me: Well, I couldve

nicely tarred our portside-chime a minute ago

but couldnt find the tar bucket quick

enough!

With Fury-2, we maneuvered Gretas stern

against the end of the jetty and she moored

securely now, with their heaviest rope. Then

they dropped our towrope and we pushed the

vessels bow towards the jetty, were after she

tied-up fore and aft firm and strong. Everybody

was happy again, especially the Insurance-people from Greta. Well, okay, okay, me too,

after a wile when the Mailman came again


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Salvage tug Fury-2, BHP 600.

Main engine Deutz VM-536, 400 Hp.

CLIMAXFebruary 1, 83: the weather had slowly

deteriorated into a grim prospect when two

minesweepers: HMS NAARDEN and HMS

OMMEN from the Royal Dutch Navy were

approaching the Sea-lock at Stellendam toquickly flee inside before all hell would break

loose.

At home we, of course, heard them talking with

the Lockmaster on VHF channel 13. We just


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had lunch at midday when those people started

their little chat on VHF-13, (Whats in a

number?) Just yoking between two bites, I

said to Rina, Boy, if one of those ships would

run aground one day! Sky-high with them balls

on a nice, big flat sandbank! That would be

something else, wouldnt it?

I was just yoking, fooling around a bit! I swear I

was! Ask Rina!

However, I was still busy writing my report

about Greta-C, so I admit, this little outspoken

wishful thinking was a bit naughty and greedy

of me. Meanwhile, it blew strongly, at least 40

knots all the time and it peaked to 50 knots andhigher in the heavy blizzards. The weather-

forecast warned for a very severe storm with

60 knots or more from the northwest in the next

24 hours. This forecast really came thru. In

evening hours, it deteriorated from already verybad to even worse.

At midnight, the phone rang. I stumbled out of

my bunk, all sleepy, and picked up the

receiver. Leonard Koese, the Skipper from the


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lifeboat Zeemanspot from Stellendam was

online: Yo, Geert! Did you got it?

What, Leonard? I sleep at most nights,

Leonard. You know, eyes closed, snoring and

all that.

Youre Nuts! Who sleeps with this kind of

weather? Listen, man! Two minesweepers from

the Navy in big trouble close to Middelharnis!

Theyre working on channel 13! Huh? Do I pull

your leg? No, you fruitcake! Are you still

sleeping? I aint yoking! Get on with it, do you

hear! Go! Go with this tug of yours and make it

real snappy! ?...!...?...!

I was wide-awake now.Okay, okay, Leonard! Thanks, man! Im on my

way now!

I slam the phone down and step in one leg of

my trousers. The telephone ringing again

Jan, the Lockmaster from the Volkerak-Locksonline:

Geert! Drag your lazy ass onboard and go,

man! Two minesweepers aground on the

Haringvliet near Middelharnis, yelling, and


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begging like crazy for tug-assistance! Its about

the OMMEN and NAARDEN, you know them!

We have contact with them on VHF! Get going,

man! We have a lock ready and waiting for

you! Go, go, and go!

Damn! Yeah, Jan, yeah, Im coming! Im there

in few minutes or so!

Jesus Gimme a break here!

First, my other leg in my pants!

Meanwhile, the Lockmaster notified the ships

that he had contacted me and confirmed that I

was proceeding. Before leaving, I make just

one quick phone call to my faithful and well-

trained runners, Theo and Ruud, sound asleepin their bunks at the little Den Bommel village.

Hey, guys! A.S.A.P. to the Volkerak-Locks

please!

Right-on, were underway as of now!

Five minutes later, I was on my way with Fury-2, out of the harbor and onto the completely

berserk waters of the Volkerak. I had a straight

downwind ride to the lock and tried to do full-

speed, of course, being in a bloody hurry as I


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was. Bad idea! Because of too much speed, I

almost managed to broach heavily two times.

When one is sailing downwind with a real good

blow, the large waves tend to stick under your

ass for too long, with the result that the rudder

is dangling in relatively still water, having about

the same speed as the boat has. Then the

pressure on the rudders flanks gets too low

and varying too much, which makes that one is

steering ones boat in a way that it looks if one

has gulped down a whole bottle of gin in a

record short time. This was not the case of

course, not in the middle of the night and with

50 knots of wind! Luckily, it was also pitch-black dark and no other ships sailing on this

mad water anymore, so nobody saw it A little

less throttle did the trick.

In the lock, Theo and Ruud just climbing down

the ladder in the lock wall, the intercom-speaker clicks. Jans voice sounded, Hey you,

nutty bunch off wild sea-horses! Take care will

you? The Anemometer here is ticking 60 knots

now, you know! It never blows below 55


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anymore! As long as you, guys know that, hey!

Be careful out there!

Yes, Jan! Sure, Jan! Well be good boys, Jan.

Thank you, man!

And out we went. Out from the lock harbor and

entering the three-mile wide Hollands-Deep we

quickly got Jans drift. The wind was already

slowly veering to the west and went from very

bad to very nasty. The sea state was

deteriorating quickly. Spray was flying over the

whole boat all the time, with large white

explosions of water and foam against the pitch-

black darkened sky; a mighty and splendid

sight to whom who can appreciate it.Just as we passed underneath the Haringvliet-

Bridge the patrol-vessel RWS-17 from Dutch

Traffic-Control came after us, out of the

Dordrecht direction. Normally, these patrol

boats go easily twice as much our speed,overtaking us as if we just dropped an anchor

or two. Not tonight, no Sir! They followed us on

a little distance behind and with no intention

what so ever to overtake us. It just was not any


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sort of hurry-up weather anymore!

Meanwhile, we made VHF contact, of course,

with the two minesweepers. About the exact

position, the situation, and how they were

doing and so on. You know: the reassuring

soothing kind of small talk in this kind of

situations.

Well, they were aground just opposite of the

so-called NATO-jetty in the Navy Practice

Area, a mile or so east from Middelharnis. And

they were not doing great either they told us,

having the distinct feeling that both ships were

still dragging higher on the sandbank, ever

further away from the fairway buoys.That was very much possible, of course. Those

old US-Navy designed minesweepers are 45

Meters long, but they have a height-above-

water and wind-catch that is more appropriate

for a ship twice that length. On top of that,those are very light-built ships, of wood! Both

Commanders reported us that sometimes they

could hear loud cracking and squeaking

noises, deep down in both their ships...


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The weather was completely off the rocker

now. It screamed and howled all the time,

sounding terrible even inside the safety of our

wheelhouse. This big, fat low-revs Deutz

engine of Fury-2 blasting at full power, stiff up

to the safety pin, of course, banging and

smashing into the steep waves in the Vuile-Gat

fairway between the island of Tiengemeeten

and the Zuid-Holland shore. A mighty feeling

that is! Just mighty!

Almost out of the Vuile-Gat, we got a radar-

echo of the vessels, way of on the bank and

400 to 500 yards apart. A little later, between

the large clouds of spray water and occasionalsnowfall, we could see sometimes the many

bright emergency lights, blinking high up in the

masts from both ships.

I thought it a mightily touching and deeply

moving sight. One simply cannot believe oneseyes at the first sight on such scenery! You

know what I mean, do you! Two clients in one!

Later, Theo and Ruud told me over and over

again for the sworn-truth that they started to


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get a little worried about my mental health in

the Vuile-Gat. They still tell everybody willing to

listen that I was all the time jumping up and

down like a kangaroo behind the wheel, yelling

like crazy: Now we have something! Now we

have something!

And so on and so forth. Tsss! A dirty pair of

plain liars, that is what they are, I tell you!

The RWS-17 made it safely to the port of

Middelharnis en vanished rapidly inside, not to

be been seen again until morning light. Mr.

Schouwenaar, the River-Master onboard,

called his office with a rather stout message:

This surely is the stupidest boat I ever wassorry about to sail on until now!

The RWS-17 was one of those modern,

featherweight designs, brand-new and also

quite a bit jumpy with this kind of weather.

Just like me, sort of!We confirmed with the Naarden that we first

would try to re-float her. She went aground

west from her sister ship and seemed a little

more in need of action. I warned her that I


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would shoot a line over, downwind over the

foredeck. I was not that keen to come close to

those ships in the circumstances. Afraid as I

was to hit the sand also and then, not

maneuverable, got thrown into her wooden

flank with this heavy boat of us, which would be

not good at all, no Sir! Crack! Crack...!

Normally, we are not that afraid to hit mother

Earth now and again. But now, with this kind of

wind blowing, maneuvering with a direct-

reversible engine like from Fury-2, can take just

a little too much time. You know: switching the

engine from forward to reverse and back; and

every time a necessary new blast ofcompressed air to start her again. It all together

takes just a little longer than with your average

reverse gearbox.

The Speedline went over and down nicely and

all-hands over there pulled the towrope over. Inever made that rapidly a tow-connection

before! With 36 sick-worried Navy-occupants

onboard over there, small wonder though!

We started working on this first minesweeper.


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We could bring her bow straight into the wind

and were able to swing her over a nice wide

angle from port to starboard and back again;

every time, with the help of the depth sounder,

of course, approaching just the rim of the bank

with the boat.

But re-floating her was still something else. We

stood on a long rope, about 500 Ft. It had to be

that long because of the shallow rim of the

bank. Therefore, flushing sand away with our

prop-wash from underneath her bottom was

not possible on this trip. We only could try to

work her slowly thru the sandbank by heavy

pulling while swinging port, starboard, and soon.

The weather went still crazier all the time and

seas were building op accordingly. The haul to

port was easy. Then we moved along with the

wind and waves to the east. The haul tostarboard was another piece of cake. Then we

moved, the boat listed dangerously, in a

westerly direction up against wind and waves,

with two Ft. of water on the starboard part of


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the deck.

The door to the engine room is also on

starboard, with a doorstep of only one Ft high...

Therefore, I appointed Theo to act as Engine-

Room-Doorman. Closing the door timely

before the starboard-haul, open it up again

quickly at beginning the portside-haul.

This was necessary for a very good reason.

With the door closed, engine-revs went down

with eight, caused by just not enough airflow to

feed the engine air-intake. That, we could not

allow! We needed all horsepower we could lay

our hands on this night! The hatches on the

engine-room top all closed down of coursebecause of all this water flying around in the

air.

So, on deck stood good Theo. Up to his knees

in water every four minutes, attending the door

right on time!Carry on, boys!


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Shit! Wet feet againas usual!

We made very slow progress, about 35 yards

in three hours. Meanwhile, HMS OMMEN was

not happy at all. She did not have any help yet,

and with each extra large wave slowly drifting a

little further on the bank. She started

complaining and whining after a wile: If I

could not ask someone else to join in for a bit

more horsepower?

I thought it was the best thing to do. If they start

yelling around for help again on the VHF, its

running out of my hands completely, and thatwouldnt be no good idea at all!

We had to succeed that night. We had to!

Because of the wind, there was a rather high

storm surge of water present. When the wind


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would ease down, the gigantic gates in the

Haringvliet storm barrier would open up rapidly

and the water would go down again. Re-

floating the ships then could prove virtually

impossible.

Thats why I made this historic telephone call

with the Tugboat-Central at Rotterdam and got

connected with Smit-Vos Tug-Services, part of

the large and famous Smit-International

Salvage Company. They rather quickly liked

the idea and we agreed that they would send

two tugs over, the Noordpool and the

Spitsbergen. They still had to sail Oude-Maas,

Spui, Korendijkse-Geul, and Beningen beforearriving at our position.

Meanwhile, we proceeded along, of course,

pulling and yanking on this Naarden tub. Im

still convinced that we could have managed to

pull her off, but it took a whole lot of time andpatience.

At early morning hours, the wind was up to

hurricane force, over 72 knots. Water was

literally flying way over the masts now! The


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highest wind speed, measured at Hook of

Holland, - very close to our workplace - tipped

79 knots. Massive lumps of water stepped

onboard at the somewhat lower stern deck

from the Naarden About our own - rather low

- stern part, I will tell you in a sec

Finally, the Noordpool and Spitsbergen arrived

and from the Naarden they shot a line over to

them were after in a short time their towropes

were connected. Then, now the three together,

we started to do some serious business. With a

grand-total of 1,700 Hp from the tugs,

minesweeper Naarden gave up soon and

floated again after another half hour. Shestayed on the deep now like a good girl,

standing-by and waiting until we were finished

with her companion Ommen.

In the meantime, the RWS-17 was on scene

again, and breaking daylight was just enoughto make some pictures. Pictures are always

okay, for later

One moment, Ruud entered the wheelhouse.

We had just started to work on OMMEN with


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our tree tugs and I was busy as hell. Working

with three tugboats close together on the same

ship and in hurricane weather conditions, you

need also at least three pairs of eyes in fact.

Ruud said Listen Geert. I dont want to be a

spoilsport or nagging on your head or

something. I really wont! But did you have a

look at our stern lately? It looks to me that we

are slowly sinking there, you know!

While Ruud takes over steering for a moment, I

stumble down on deck to have a better look at

the stern. Shit! The stern is down, with the deck

in the water, the waves rolling straight over

now. Oh boy! I take a quick look in the sternroom. More Shit! The water is way above the

floorboards already! This damned stern tube

gland again! I race to the engine room to switch

on the bilge pump. Boy! Oh boy! One could

founder quietly, working and working like anidiot on a very tight towrope!


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Early morning exercise

On the far right, one of the clients.

Yeah, it was just one of those facts of life. Fury-2 came finally at the end of her long and heavy

road. Her lovely 13 Tons Deutz engine running

as smooth as ever. All pumps and other

equipment still being in good working order.

But the hull was gone, along with the rudder-gear and also along with the stern-tube and the

prop-shaft. The outer-bearing from the stern-

tube was so completely worn-out that the shaft,

jumping up en down like a mad frog while

running full revs, destroyed the gland-seals

every time. Well yes, and then working

feverously on a very nice job, one can forget

something sometimes you know. Like a little

pumping now and again


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However, do not despair! On the drawing

boards, the brand-new Fury-3 was growing

already. The Mother of all Salvage-Tugboats

was about to be borne! Until she is finished,

just try to stay surfaced with the old faithful, you

moron! Pumping a bit now and again, if it is not

too much to ask of you, you sorry kind of a

meathead!

Those minesweepers meanwhile could barely

use their own engines any more. The whole of

them cooling systems filled with sand from the

bank, and temp-gauges went rapidly into the

red sector as soon as a demand for somepower came up.

The Ommen behaved like a good girl also and

after some struggle, she did float again. We

moored her as the first on the NATO-jetty and

brought the Naarden alongside her. Well, thiswas it then! Finished with a very nice job and

succeeded!

We tied-up alongside the minesweepers and

went onboard to have a little chat, and to do


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some business, of course. Meanwhile, a squad

of Navy divers showed up, quickly commencing

inspections on both ships bottoms for damage.

It didnt take long also before the Shore-captain

of Smit-Vos arrived. He had jumped his car at

Rotterdam as soon he heard that the ships

were floating again and started racing like a

maniac from Rotterdam. So, the two of us went

to the Commanders of the sweepers.

But this sneaky little devil of a Shore-captain

was already been there without me, waiving

with two ridiculous Harbor-Towing-Contracts

to be signed by the Royal Dutch Navy. Those

stupid little contracts were an offence bythemselves to the Dutch Navy, I tell you!

However, the two Commanders had decided

that they preferred to wait for me also being

present Now, that was one hell of a smart

move to make from those clever boys! Fullmarks for you!

I had no real objection against those specific

contracts of course, but I had ordered the two

tugboats on an hourly basis. Simple: so many


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hours, two boats, so many horsepower, type

the invoice and be done with it! Now, this

Shore-captain tried to wriggle himself out of

that, thinking he was already longer awake

then me. No way!

Well, after a good and hearty discussion with

him, a few calls with the Smit office, we went

back to the two Commanders. To set the new

course, so to speak.

Those Navy guys couldnt agree more then

they did with me. They had ordered ME for

assistance, I had asked Smit later, and that

was it! It therefore took me not too much time

to feel the mood and spirit those guys were in,deciding that I had a fair chance here.

Therefore, a wile later, I said to the

Commanders, By all means, Sirs, please do

sign those contracts from Smit.

Which both of them did! The Shore-captain, atonce with this big, dumb, satisfied grin on his

face? The moment the papers were

undersigned, he grabbed them from the table

and they vanished into his pocket; if it were the


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only and very secret maps of the biggest

diamond field of the whole world. The silly

beggar!

Where afterI pulled two brand-new Lloyds

Open Form, No Cure No Pay contracts out

of my pocket and invited the Dutch Navy

Commanders politely to undersign these also...

Immediately, the Shore-captain started

complaining and yelling, waiving with his

pathetic little contracts in the air, whining:

Whats the use of that now? We already have

these contracts!

Continuing waiving with those sickening

worthless little papers. I told him, We will findthat out later. Dont worry. It will do no harm.

Again, the Navy boys agreed with me and

signed my papers also. Bingo!

On top of it, they poured us a generous drink

afterward. A stiff drink, I might sayThe minesweeper boys safely moored and we

could sail homeward bound; completely

satisfied, cold to the bone, but warm inside and

very content because of a job well done.


35/148

YesIs it not?

The wind was still veering slowly. If one looked

long enough, one could think that it very slowly

diminished. It was a mighty and beautiful sight

on the four mile wide Haringvliet. The sun

rising for a short while now and slanted streaks

of bright light beaming thru between the big

black storm clouds, sweeping over the furious

gray-green waters. It was still blowing around

50 knots and the foamy crowns of the breaking

wave-crests, lit by this harsh light were of the

brightest white I have ever seen; and Fury-2

swaying slowly up and down on a downwind

course in the middle of it! Beautiful, it was! Justbeautiful!

Back into the Volkerak-lock, Theo and Ruud

went home, dead tired and soaked - but so

completely satisfied - back to their bunks.

After another rather bumpy ride over theVolkerak, I moored back home, first told the

complete story of course, and then catching up

with some sleep and rest.

Later in the afternoon, I applied first for an


36/148

extended and written report from the KNMI

Weather Institute, and the same about the tide

and surge details from the Department of

Water. A few days later, I received also some

pictures from the rescue action, made by the

RWS-17. This was very nice! Pictures are

always goodfor later

Not too slowly, my business instinct started to

awake on this one, and for starters I made a

phone call with Wout, the director of Van den

Akker at Flushing, another work-company from

Smit-International, and by occasion sometimes

my counselor. And a fine one he was! I told himthe whole story and Wout liked it a lot. He

nearly couldnt stop laughing! Especially the

part about the Sore-captains Tow-Contracts,

he appreciate a lot. Boy, oh boy, we sure had a

good time!Wout: Listen up, son! Be advised that I go with

you to the first meeting about this yoke at the

Head-office in Rotterdam. I wont miss it for the

world, Im telling you! Better still! You first make


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an appointment with the people over there,

then Ill pick you up at your place and we travel

together. At the same time, I can keep an eye

on you!

A few days later, I contacted with the Smit

head-office to set a date for a meeting.

This day came, Wout picked me up, and on we

went; meeting with Bram, Joop, and Bill and so

on, gathered in their very luxurious head-office,

and me telling the whole story in detail.

When everybody finally calmed down after

many roaring outbursts of laughter and sheer

joy, the two Tow-contracts from the Shore-

captain were ripped to a thousand pieces andvanished were they belonged in the first place,

into the wastebasket that is!

L. O. F, No cure No pay contracts,

undersigned by two Royal Dutch Navy

Commanders are somewhat better, you see,slightly more valuable. They are a special kind

of Royal treasure bonds, one could call them.

Well, we yoked around for a while in this

fashion. Repeatedly, those guys came up with


38/148

questions about this or that detail and started

over and over, scribbling away little notes

about it, and so on, etc.

Suddenly, Wout grumbles with his very low

voice to Bram: Hey you! What kind of a lousy,

greedy host are you anyway? Do you know at

what godforsaken early hour I started to drive

from Flushing this morning to this worn-out

dump here? Do you? No, of course you dont!

Thats what I mean, see! I would appreciate

some decent grub by now, you know!

By very noisy acclamation, we decided to move

the meeting over to Mary Dear, a little

restaurant, a block or so away from the Smit-office. They served A Captains Dinner, with a

few nice steaks each, to beef it up a little, and

of course some very strong spiritual liquids in

between now and again, just for the ambiance.

Overall, it went to a fruitful and lightheartedday.

Very late that evening we agreed fully on the

headlines of the strategy, sometimes even in

tears, drenched in heavy percentages of


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intoxicating fluids.

Oh no, not Wout! Wout was the chauffeur see!

We agreed in brotherly unison that I was and

would remain to be the principal Contractor in

the case. But hey, man! Cant we agree on a

fifty-fifty basis? Of course, they had brought in

three times more horsepower with their two

tugboats then I did with Fury-2.

I thought it okay already and we agreed to join

forces again. Now ready to go into battle

against the Dutch Navy! Now to collect our

rightfully owned salvage reward...

Stormy, occasional, early morning merger


40/148

AFTER JOY

It took us almost a year before we could collect

our hard-earned money. But well, you know

the Dutch government

One day, I was completely fed up again,

waiting and waiting for nothing to happen and I

got this idea: I drive to The Hague tomorrow

morning, and I make a little chat with the

lawyer over there who is handling the case at

the Department of Defense. (I should say of

course, non-handling the case!)

Better still, I do not call him in advance to make

an appointment. I just drive off here and dropmyself right on his deck, out off the blue sky!

Yeah sure!

The next early morning, I jump in my little Fiat

and set course for The Hague. It went smoothly

until I pass Voorburg, a suburb city from TheHague. I already had traveled many times to

The Hague, of course. To the Department of

Justice that was I had to go there endlessly

and repeatedly for another salvage job I did for


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Her Majesties Government Boy! Oh Boy! If I

have to start telling you about that one, I will

never finish

Therefore, I know my way around a little in The

Hague. But now, after a rather long time, my

destination laid somewhere in the narrow and

complicated ants nest of the old city.

Searching, sounding, and navigating along I

was After Voorburg, I ended up in a

roadblock and had to make a detour. Of

course, I didnt had updated charts of this part

of the coast on board, and I had not read

anything about it in the Notices for Mariners

either. So I got lost

At a bus stop, an older lady was waiting for a

city bus. It was a lively and literally sharp kind

of a woman. She was dressed in a gray-blue

raincoat and with a little Navy-blue hat on herhead. Out from that hat were two of those

sharp hatpins sticking up from between some

insignificant camouflage of plastic fruits. It

looked like the antennas of an old and grumpy


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Russian espionage trawler. It seemed rather

dangerous to me

I stopped the car and asked her politely for my

way to the Department of Defense at the

Queen Maria lane. Oh gosh! she tweeted.

What a coincidence that you ask me, Sir! I live

just one street away from there, you see, and I

am on my way home! You know what! I jump in

with you and Ill show you the way! Then Im

home again and youre at the right place the

same time! Isnt this funny!

The old lady jumped in, pointing forward with a

sure and steady finger, saying: just drive on,

Sir. Ill lead the way!Then it started She cranked up to babble

away about everything: about her neighbors,

about her worthless family in law, about

politics, about the bad weather lately, about

everything. And all of it on the highest possiblerevs from her little steam engine, even that

Well, I told her from two stairs up, I

saidyou have to turn right here Oops, that

was close isnt it? Well, I said, isnt that


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something, womanYes to the left hereWell

done, SirYou did that very nicely, just nearly

missing that other carwere was I...? Oh yes,

so I said to her, isnt it outrageous woman? I

said Oh my! You had to turn left again

here!

I turned the wheel as fast as possible to the

portside. Just a little too late With a loud

BANG, we bumped over the curbstone of a

nice flowerbed between the two lanes of the

broad street we were navigating. I just

managed to miss the tick and heavy tree by a

few inches. Red flowers and green leafs were

flying in the air outside the windows of thewheelhouse. It looked a bit like green and red

spray, colored by the ships position lanterns,

sailing thru the night in very heavy weather

With a heavy SMACK, the little Fiat smashed

down from the opposite curbstone into the leftlane.

The electric streetcar, who was just full ahead

approaching the green traffic light green for

him that is was instantly switching his motors


44/148

back in full reverse with a terrible whining

sound, ringing with his anchor bell like an idiot,

and at the same time blasted a very prolonged

and totally unnecessary attention signal on his

foghorn.

But I couldnt spend much time on him right

then. I just barely managed to enter the street

from that next and latest course alteration.

Moreover, I just felt this strange tic in my left

eye again

The little woman on my right was suspiciously

quiet for a while for the about three seconds

while we were airborne that is and I had a

quick peek to her, my navigator in harmsShe just started to giggle. My, my, Sir! What a

wild and naughty driver you are! She was

bareheaded then. Her little hat was hanging

above her, the dangerous pins shot clean thru

the ceiling of the rooftop from my poor littleFiat. Oh dear, look at that! What a naughty

rascal of a boy you are! My, my!

With a firm yank, she plucked her hat out from

the sealing, like ripe fruits plucked from a tree,


45/148

and putted it firmly back on her head again, still

very sharp and ready for the next attack And

she continued rattling, her good old self again:

At the end of this street you have to turn right

again you know! Yes, I say it just upfront now

hey! Hihihi! We are almost there, you know!

Oh, gosh look, we still made a better time then

the bus could ever have done. You did well you

know! Yes! Stop here! This is your address.

Are you in politics or something? I mean,

coming all the way from the Brabant-County as

you are. Ah, you are a sailor! Ah well, then this

is the right address for you, you know! This is

the Navy, you see! Well, many thanks for theride, Sir! Goodbye, Sir! Bye, bye!

I now also felt these alarming twitches in both

hands again, waiting for the traffic light to turn

green to enter the gigantic parking lot. Having

found a spot, I stepped out and spontaneouslyI looked at the rooftop of the car. Mmm, no

holes

First, I checked in with the Reception, still a

little shaky: I very much like to speak with Mr.


46/148

von Heijden

First, I received a visitors pass. One of those

modern little labels that you have to clip on the

coat, confirming To-Whom-It-May-Concern

that one is temporary allowed to be present in

this building of utmost importance. The

Reception lady was meanwhile checking all

those names in a large kind of logbook on her

desk. The Department of Defense is the

working area for, say around 2,500 employees.

Huh well, working area Let us say, a place to

be during office hours. After all, we live more or

less in peace now. After a wile, she exclaimed

Oh! Im so sorry for you! Mr. von Heijdencalled in sick this morning. Just a few minutes

before you arrived, you know. His back hurts,

you know.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Etcetera!

To calm down a bit I found myself back in thecanteen to buy a cup of coffee. Thinking over

the desperate position, Im in, aground in this

bloody hellhole here. But then I decided that I

still want to know why in the world it takes so


47/148

much time again just to pay me a simple

salvage-fee for a job well done. Moreover,

especially after have lived thru such a perilous

journey as I did just a few minutes ago!

So, back to the friendly Reception-lady and I

asked for the Chief from Mr. von Heijden. And

make it snappy, please! After a wile, an Officer

of the Guards appeared. He was at first sight

recognizable by this big bright, shining silver

shield bungling on his fat belly with a silver

chain around his neck. He was the so-called

picket-officer. This is some Guard figure they

still think to need at this kind of places

He asked me - flashing with arrogant brilliancelike a paradise bird - for the reason of my visit

and I told him so. For a wile, he was gazing

very suspiciously at me. As if, I came rowing

down by lifeboat all the way from my place to

The Hague. Like the famous Captain Blighfrom the Bounty did. Then suddenly, he started

to march in front of me with droning, hollering

steps thru all these long corridors and

stairways until we halted in front of the hundred


48/148

and something office door.

I had to wait outside he was telling me. He first

would notify the Chief about my question. So, I

waited another ten minutes on that long and

empty corridor.

The Guard-joker came out again, and flashing

and sparkling he told me: The Chief thinks that

you do better if you leave the case to your

lawyer since you have already (!?) given the

case to him. Now the case is handed over to a

lawyer, the Chief only wants to, and in fact is

only allowed to, speak with him.

All devils in hell! Now what? Im the principle

Contract-Party here and the Chief is a high-ranked member from my Counterparty! We

shall speak whenever I feel like it! I told the

radiant guard-bird that I had to make a very

urgent phone call! Now! He was convoying me

rapidly to an empty office, but with a stillworking telephone.

I grabbed one of the many letters from my

lawyer Eric - out of my briefcase and stuck it

under his big liquor nose: You dial this number


49/148

in the letterhead here and ask for Maitre Eric.

Now!

He was studying the letter, as if grave

suspicion had been raised about me being

seriously suspected of counterfeiting

confidential States documents. At last, he

dialed the number, got connected and said

Good day, Sir. This is the Department of

Defense at The Hague speaking. Here is a

mister Theunisse for you who likes to speak

with you. One moment please.

He handed over the receiver and retreated to

the open door, waiting with his ears peeled on

what would happen. Eric was online andlaughing his head off. Hey, Geert, you son of a

gun! You hopeless fruitcake! Whats up?

Eric, listen good! This morning, I drove in all

peace and quiet to this damned place to ask

very politely why they refuse to pay me mywell-earned money. Now Im here, this Chief

from Mr. von Heijden refuses to talk to anyone

else but you! This von Heijden person stayed

home this morning because of some sort of


50/148

stupid illness. So, now Im stuck here!

Therefore, this is what I going to do here and

now for today. I sack you! Understood? You tell

this joker here that you no longer represent me

any more! Got it? Or I start to throw some

randomly people out of windows here!

The guard-bird retreated at once from the open

door, vanishing tactically into the corridor. Eric

was most inappropriate laughing like crazy on

the phone, but after a wile, he was more or less

able to speak again, Okay, okay, understood.

Gimme that joker again and I will tell him so.

I slammed the phone on the table and stormed

to the open door. Damn, almost too late! Theguard-bird had sneaked away almost to the

end of the corridor already. I made a few steps

in his direction and signalled him friendly but

urgent to get his ass back to the phone.

Please, Sir, come back to the phone. Theresa message for you!

It resounded nicely up and down the long

corridor, echoing three times back and forth

and received well. The guard-bird came


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shuffling back trembling and shy like a young

virgin in the very last seconds from her already

shaking and collapsing existence and he

listened what Eric had to say to him:

Oh no, Sir! Ah, yes, Sir! I am so sorry for you,

Sir! Yes, Sir, I shall immediately convey this

message to the Chief, Sir. Thank you so much

Sir! Goodbye, Sir.

He putted the receiver down; very carefully, as

if it was a very valuable and fragile piece of

jewelry and addressed me: Very good, Sir. I

think that the Chief is willing to speak with you

now. Will you please follow me, Sir?

We returned to the Chiefs office. The guard-bird knocked on the door, opening up the same

moment and we were in a secretary-office with

a large desk. Behind the desk sat an obviously

elderly woman, very sophisticated, with

meticulously well-done, beautiful silver-grayhair. She started slowly and stately to stand up,

but was just only halfway when my guide

steamed full-ahead across the room with full

revs and military paces towards a tinted glass


52/148

wall with a door in it, with me on his tail on a

very short towrope indeed. She started to

speak... But, Sir! I first have to introduce you

again, befo

Alas, she was too late. We already entered into

the heart of the Counterparty. Ah! Straight into

the CENTER OF POWER at last!

There, behind a desk sat a very small and

unbelievably old man. But his desk was much

bigger and beautiful made by an artist-

carpenter. The desk was made from softly

shining, very dark, almost black wood. A

marvelous piece of furniture it was! The desk

was also completely and spotlessly empty,except for just one dossier cover, opened in

front of him.

This man was so terribly old that I just couldnt

believe my eyes! They had left him behind! The

same instant, it flashes thru my brain They just had abandoned him from the time that

Napoleon got defeated here and very rapidly

thrown out! And they just forgot to send him

after!


53/148

On the wall behind him hung a beautiful

painting from an antique battleship; it is proudly

cruising on a stormy sea with square-rigged,

bulging sails. Enormous tricolor flags standing

proudly in the strong wind, accompanied by

many yards-long Royal-orange banners. The

grim barrels from the two rows of many

cannons are pointing out of the opened gun

ports. The ship was completely ready and very

able for just another glorious and smashing

battle at the seas. This was His last ship! I

know it for sure! I swear it is!

His ship!


54/148

My front-trooper, standing before the desk, was

respectfully whispering all kinds of information

to the ancient sailor. The last part containing

words about him standing guard and for

protection for himself and about asking for

more troops, and so on. But the little wrinkled

old salt, with an ice-cold glance in his watery

eyes, was waiving him out of the room. My

former front trooper started humbly back sailing

behind enemy lines now, closing the door in

the glass wall without a sound. So: doing

business at last? Hell no! Well, almost

nothing...The living sea-mummy started a very, very long

monologue. Really, for many minutes he

babbled on with the same monotonous,

teaching, and college-like droning sound. He

was unstoppable going on about the Systemand the strict rules of Navy bureaucracy, which

are the only true and sound foundations of a

strong and healthy Navy-organization.

With a grave and solemn voice, he declared


55/148

that they the Servants from Her Majesties

Navy, appointed from and sworn in by Her

Majesty the Queen herself were simply

obliged to fulfill absolute correctly all

regulations first in matters of the greatest and

utmost importance as those very serious cases

on hand now, and so on, etc...

He took so much time for his cold-war-

declaration that I calmed down completely.

Worse, even! I nearly fell asleep!

Butbutthat was just the standard diversion

tactic from back then and now! Blabbering on

endlessly until the enemy drops totally

exhausted on the floor! Thats it! First, misleadthe enemy as much as possible! Put him

asleep and hypnotize him! Cheat on him until

he starts crying aloud from genuine and great

misery! Then Attack and destroy the

miserable, pitiful, and begging for mercy,pathetically complaining bastard, brutally and

unwanted emerged from the scum of nations

ignorant inhabitants!


56/148

This negotiating tactic is worldwide known as

the famous Dutch Poldermodel and so skillful

deployed here in all of its glory by this little sea-

midget! This salty mini-troll from ancient, cold,

and mystic Ultima Thule!

However, when the little sea-cherubim paused

for a while to have a sip of water to top-up his

rusty old boiler, poured in ever so carefully out

from a crystal carafe with a trembling wrinkled

little hand into a very old wineglass on golden

footing placed on a dark-blue velvet placemat,

just offered to him by the secretary, glancing

at me with great hostility I suddenly startledto consciousness again.

Quickly awakening, I grabbed my one and only

chance to interfere in his fatal tactics and

escape from this devious attack. I asked him

politely to see to it that some progress wouldbe been made now. That he surely must

understand that it is impossible for us to keep

on investing good money in salvage jobs, and

afterwards being forced to wait for our payment


57/148

for such long times.

That in that frightening dark and stormy night

when this desperate cry for help came - from

TWO of her Majesties battleships for crying

aloud! - We immediately sailed out to do our

duty, even in those unfriendly, yes, even rather

dangerous circumstances.

End that it would be wise, generous, and

prudent of him to grant me at least some

advance-payment if the system should

continue to need so much time to solve those

insignificant little matters at hand.

Ah! The little old salty beggar started to smile

ever so little, with feeble and faint hiccup-likesounds, bubbling-up from his crummy and

dented inner standpipe. There was even a

weak twinkling of a tiniest pleasure visible in

his already, for centuries long dimmed and

faded eyes.Well, yeshuhMister Theunisse, I almost

think that our Minister, Prof. Mr. J. de Ruiter,

could be persuaded by me to make a little

gesture to you under these rather pressing


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circumstances. You know, I am afraid that our

denial of any obligation to pay you anything at

all would possibly fall on bad ground in this

case. I understood that our distinguished

commanders did undersign some, huh well,

some sort of documents after this misfortunes

event took place.

Particularly wrong intending legal schooled

figures could possibly even extract a certain

legal force from these papers, laid upon us to

pay you some amount of money anyway.

Therefore, a modest and sufficient moderated

advance-payment, wellyes, why not, I dare to

say. Well yes, I almost even dare to think that Icould defend something of this nature before

his Excellency the Minister.

What do you think? Would a sum of, let us say

25,000 Florins will do the trick to keep you

going? Of course, I first would like to receive awritten consent about this arrangement from

your, huh, well, colleagues, Smit-International, I

mean. If you would be so kind to first explore

this little matter with those people in the


59/148

Rotterdam area? Were after, I am of course will

await a written approval from them? And after

that well naturally, we will transfer this

amount of our national currency to one of the

accounts of your choice. I guess I can promise

you this here and now.

Right, so far so good! It is something at last. I

thanked the little old salty sea-swindler, but

with great hesitation, I very carefully shook his

outreached tiny hand. It looked so brittle and

vulnerable. As ifif it could come off any

second!

In addition, I did do better to forget quickly the

words he spoke about the undersigneddocuments, which made it impossible now

NOT to pay me! Grrmpf! The cheating little

beggar!

Anyhow, with some relief and reasonably cool I

left the premises after having my visitors passreturned to the friendly and helpful reception-

lady, who saved my day after all.

Since I was already busy that day with climbing

the steep and narrow ladder up to the higher


60/148

regions of society anyway, being advanced into

the real Center Of The Defense Of The

Kingdom as I was just minutes ago, I decided

to march-on and visit yet another Galaxy of the

real important institutions of the earth: Smit-

International Worldwide Salvage Company at

Rotterdam.

Without further nerve-racking complications, I

managed to sail out free from this tricky The

Hague labyrinth and a little later safely dropped

anchor in the parking lot at the Zalmstraat. The

door attendant took care of my announcement

upstairs and few seconds later, I could report to

Bram and Joop.I started with just a simple, global, and brief

report about my soundings at The Hague, only

mentioning the headlines about the advance-

payment. Bram promised at once to send a

letter to the Department, confirming that theyhad no objections what so ever against this

deal. Good! Some money started to flow in the

right direction at last!

But then, those evil characters started picking


61/148

on me again! They began in a most devious

and treasonous way to ask for details. They

went relentlessly on and on and at last, I broke

and I had to give away all details to them. They

both forced me to elaborate about getting lost

in our National Capitol, about my babbling

female Pilot and her dangerous hat, about my

hastily and sloppy gardener job between the

two curbstones, about the guard-bird, about the

ancient sailor, about the old painting, etc.

So, sitting there in that most decadent,

expensive office, telling them most reluctantly

and unwillingly all those insignificant little

things; first Joop started to make those funnylittle squeaking, suffocation noises,

immediately followed by Bram with blue-faced

outbursts of mightily roaring sounds. I could

hardly hear myself speaking because of the

racket they made!The smashing looking, young female secretary

from Bram had already fled from the room by

that time, with both lovely little hands covering

her gorgeous lips. However, few minutes later,


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she bravely returned, her very attractive self

completely regained she thought now

accompanied by Mister Scheffer, the Big Boss

of this well-known, worldwide Salvage-outfit

that time. Boy! What a mess they started to

make now of this detailed report that they

wrung merciless out of me!

Okay, down to the real business now! The final

meeting about the case was been planned at

the famous White House at Rotterdam. There

was seated the also worldwide known and

most distinguished Ships-Experts and loss

adjusters firm: H. S. & N.Mister van Dorp, a most experienced, really

integer and righteous Member-Expert from this

firm had being appointed by the Dutch Navy to

try to solve our little business in a final and

decisive battle.Joop and I arrived nice on time also.

A large convoy of Navy-brass was just entering

the meeting room. Really heavy! It looked like a

decisive meeting from the top admirals of the


63/148

combined fleets from the Low-Countries to

finally establish once and for all the absolute

hegemony on the worlds seas. In addition, the

States-Lawyer walks in

#@ %SHIT&!>!*?,...

THE FUCKING STATES-LAWYER?!

The States-Lawyer, Mr. Brant Wubs on this

occasion, beat me with just one second when I

stormed in, about 2 Ft behind him. With my

steam-pressure-gauge dangerously far into the

red sector, and large surpluses of adrenaline

escaping from all of my safety valves, swirlinguseless around in my scattered wake.

Mister Theunisse! Hum Please Sir! Before

you start to explode again, I am only present

here incase we perhaps, maybe, possibly,

eventually shall NOT reach an agreementtoday. In that case, we have to shape up a

course for our next possible movements, and

that is the one and only reason I am here

today. I have no intention to interfere in


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anything else. I really wont do that today!

And I have to be honest, he didnt. That he

pulled both my legs in a most scandalous way

a little later in a different case is another matter

of course. It is another book even It turned

out into a maritime/judicial/political

documentary drama in fact! Going on,

andgoing on, and

We DID succeed in that final gathering! We,

Joop and I, retreated a few times into the

corridor. Well, I didnt exactly demanded for

blood Although But for sure, I did demand

for some real nice money anyhow and anyway.

At a certain moment, biddings stuck on adifference of 15,000 guilders. The Navy-brass,

with serious faces, already busy gathering their

large stacks of papers, filling, and closing their

many briefcases. Mister van Dorp was looking

genuine worried.The States-Lawyer was looking somber too

But not for real, no way He thought Oho!

There comes a fine bunch of work again!

Money, money, money!


65/148

In our last corridor conclave, Joop started

yelling. At me? Damn you, man! We must

agree now! Now, you hear!

Me: No way, not this time! We need the fifteen

big-ones they are still sitting on with their fat

asses, for lost of interests after almost yet

another year of waiting for these jerks!

I won! We strolled back inside as lenient as a

concrete seawall, sticking stiffly to our

standpoints. Finally, they gave in! All interests

included. States lawyer Brant did not need to

come in action. That time anyway

So, another won race, would you think? Yeah,

well, back at you in a minute Our many USAfriends have a nice proverb for that: It aint

over until the fat lady sings!

We had a cozy and rather wet after meeting,

back at the Smit-office and Bram told me: Well

Mister Main-Contractor, you know the drill,dont you. You make the Invoice, and you see

to it that we receive our money as soon as

possible.

So what? This is no big deal, is it! I sailed back


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home without any trouble and sat down to

properly write an invoice for the total salvage-

fee. The biggest invoice since I started my little

enterprise. A very good feeling, I might say!

The invoice was a brief summary of the

agreement about the principal sum plus VAT

of course, minus the already received advance-

payment. With at the end this nice sentence:

Payment of this Invoice shall fully and

completely discharge the Royal Dutch Navy in

this case.

As soon as finished, the invoice went to the

mail carrier.

A month later, I received a rather sour letterfrom the Department of Defense. The Minister

of Defense, by his spokesperson Mr. von

Heijden, was boldly conveying to me that

during the meeting from Sept. 21st, not a word

had been mentioned about any VATpayment Moreover, that the agreed amount

for salvage-fee was the maximum amount that

the Navy was been prepared to agree upon.

That therefore the Navy is awaiting an invoice


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from me for that amount only. It is the truth, I

swear! Look for yourself!

But? But! VAT is a disaster coming from

the outside. It is an act from a non-God. It is

invented by and laid upon us by terrible greedy

and money-hungry third persons, a.k.a. as the

Government, binding for all and with very few

and very rare exceptions. It comes

automatically after and upon any and all

commercial business transactions about

delivering of services and/or goods, completed

by inhabitant business firms and persons in the

country. It therefore does not need to be been

mentioned or calculated during none of the pre-transaction gatherings or meetings or

negotiations.

One is just obliged to add it afterwards as a

fixed percentage of the principal agreed sum,

after the price of the goods or services hasbeen established between parties concerned,

then forming the total amount that must be

been paid. The deliverer of the goods and/or

services, appointed by the same terrible greedy


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third-party persons, a.k.a. as the Government,

without any right for some remuneration for this

labor, is been obliged by Law to collect these

sums of VAT money, and to immediately hand

over this cash to the Department of the

Treasurer; so Im told thoroughly and many

times, at the cost of many stiff fines.

But hey! One is of course still a little impressed,

receiving a strict VAT rejecting letter from a

Minister, if I may say so!

I decided to ask around and I called Joop. He

was choosing my side, of course: Foreign

vessels are free from paying VAT in Holland.

However, we can hardly call the Dutch Navyforeign, can we? On top of that, the job was

done in Dutch waters and carried out by Dutch

companies. So, ergo?

To be one hundred percent sure about the

matter, I decided to make a very daring andperilous move I contacted the States VAT-

Collector for utterly decisive advice!

The VAT Collector was ready in no time with

my very provocative question: Of course is the


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Dutch Navy obliged to pay VAT! All Dutch

ships on all Dutch waters pay Dutch VAT for all

delivering of goods and/or rendering of any

services from Dutch companies. No matter if

they are aground or not!

Personally, I liked this last short sentence of

him. It was somewhat prophetic about the

years to come!

And Geert, just a little bit of free advice; be

sure to produce an invoice with VAT calculated

and included, because if you dont, we come to

your place to collect those 18 %, you know!

The Navy should take care of their own shop;

like we must do also!Now what? Damn! VAT on this invoice!

Regardless what stupid letters I receive from

the Minister of Defense, or any other nutcase

for that matter! Me paying VAT that I never

received to begin with. No way, not in this life Iwill not!

Alas, before this already happily smoldering

conflict is escalating into yet another

thunderous confrontation between the


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Bureaucratic morons and me, the already

joyfully growing flames of battle fire smothered

in a next event. In fact, it smothered in two

events!

The first was that the Dutch Navy, after long,

intensive, and bloody meetings on the highest

Departmental levels about this grave and

threatening affair for the existence of the

Kingdom, became finally allowed by the

Treasury to pay NO VAT in this case! Well,

what about that one?

I was allowed to write a Net-Invoice and send

that to the Navy. And of course, I for sure didnthave to pay VAT also. Umm, well, okay then

Since I already did send an invoice with VAT to

the Navy, and received over there, I made the

same invoice but now with the header Credit-

Invoice. I distracted the VAT amount and typedat the bottom-line the amount that still had to

be been paid for. I was all set and the invoice

went with the mail carrier again


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The second event was that the notorious Mail-

strike broke out that year. For three long

weeks, all mail was carelessly thrown down

into the dungeons of the various departments.

The mailbags piled up in stacks of 10 Ft high.

Like the coffee bales, once stacked onboard

the ships of those famous Dutch multinationals

of the old days: The West- and the East-

Indies-Companies. Those enormous firms,

who in heroic sea and land battles but mainly

with large-scale slave and drugs trade

gathered the necessary start capital to build the

sound foundations of our glorious Royal Dutch

Navy from today.

The gathering of wealth


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And somewhere between those millions of

letters, my mail was waiting idle From which I

didnt hear anything, know nothing Im

desperately counted the heavy, life-threatening

fits I suffered every long, long waiting day;

reading the newspapers and looking at the TV,

seeing and hearing the blabbering nonsense,

uttered by this dumb strike leader, Jaap van

der Scheur Damn!

At last, with no end of the strike in sight, I

called the Department of Defense. Luckily the

phone still worked. I got connected with a

paymaster of some sort and I explained theproblem to him. Which was very short: I now

need my damned money! More or less, I could

convince him about the urgency of the

situation, and he finally spoke the words of

great relief! You better come to The Hagueagain, with a copy from the invoice, and well

see what we can do about it.

Happy as a whistle, I drove my limping Fiat to

The Hague. She was dragging a little to


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starboard on the rudder since then? But

thanks to my pilot then, I arrived safely at the

ancient green, double doors at number 17,

meeting the helpful paymaster. He studied my

invoice for a very long time. As if, it was a very

early hieroglyph scripture that I had found in

the ruins of ancient Egypt, and secretly

smuggled out from that faraway country And

he got lost in it!

Im afraid that I cannot decide on this. I

suggest that you go to the Navy-Main-Office at

Scheveningen. I expect that they can deal with

it.

Oh boy, I thought. Major shit is coming upagain! Nevertheless, once more, I approached

the little pencil pusher as persuasive as

possible: You know what? Why dont we go

together? I bring you back here for sure.

Promised on my solemn word of honor!At first, he was looking very doubtful and

suspicious about this honor of me, but then he

decided like a man.


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Okay, I will. Otherwise, Im just sitting behind

my desk in this dusty office all day anyway!

Thats the spirit! Good for you, Sir! Lets go!

Without any problem, thanks to my new Pilot,

we navigated in a jiffy thru The Hague and to

Scheveningen. He leaded me to a brand-new

very large, all-glass building; an ultramodern

Sea-Nerve-Center, and for sure a blinding

sublimation from our rich and famous Maritime

History.

We were allowed entering, approved by a

retired admiral attending the door, and started

wandering around in mirroring glass corridors,

from one wing into the other, and all of themexactly alike. So confusing was the

surrounding that my Pilot got completely lost!

His problem was obviously so complex that he

started to be all nervous and sweaty about it.

I cannot comprehend why he was so upset. Ihad told him long ago already that I would

never again leave this gigantic glass-inferno

without my money! Grrr!


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In yet another corridor, we met human life at

last. A lady-housekeeper was busy wiping the

countless windows. A lifetime job here with the

reassuring prospect of an infinite steady

income!

My companion, desperate by now, asked her,

while she never stopped wiping, about a

certain room with a mysteriously sign on it,

assembled from many symbols and numbers.

Ah! She said No sweat! This corridor, in that

direction, second turn right, first left, second

door to the right. You cant miss!

A real insider, thats what she was

We entered into the room, now arrived at thereal Paymasters office at last. He was still

young and talked like a skilled paymaster.

Moreover, he was friendly and understanding!

Sitting behind his sorry overloaded desk, he

looked just one second into my Invoice - whichI had carried with me all the time, as if being a

top-secret States-document of the greatest

importance - and he said, That invoice looks

fine by me! Nothings wrong with it!


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He fetched a large rubberstamp out of a great

number of rubberstamps, scattered over his

totally cluttered desk, with stacks and piles of

papers and dossier-covers. He plunged the

rubberstamp deep into an ink cushion and

rammed a stamp on my invoice with great

force, as if he was testing the foundations of

the building, now thoroughly for the first time.

He looked friendly up to me and said, Shall we

say fourteen days? Then youll have your

money!

Deeply moved by such a display of self-

confidence and awareness of ones own

responsibility, I grabbed both his hands anduttered a thank you.

We left this blindingly, sunlit-catching and

thanks to the cleaning lady sparks-reflecting

building, swaying from emotion and from crying

welders-eyes, and I transported the little pencilpusher back to his office with many thanks. A

promise is a promise.

I sailed back to my homeport with renewed

hope for the little and insignificant members of


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humankind. Ten days later, 11-28-83 the

payment was found in the mail.

Pause


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Well, I guess its about time to proof this

story!

DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE

Civil-Law office

Queen Maria-lane 17,

Telegram address: Navy The Hague.

Telex nr. 31335.

To Mr. G. Theunisse,

Sasdijk AB, 4671 RP DINTELOORD

Our number Proposal-/order number 1009208/

1004679

The Hague, July 22, 1983Subject: Salvage Hr. Ms. Naarden / Hr. Ms.

Ommen (2 /443)

With respect to the letter from Mr. E. Fleskens

dd. July 7, 1983, in which is mentioned thatSmit-International, as well as yourself, agree

with a advance-payment of f. 25,000 on you

account number , I convey to you that


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this before mentioned amount will soon being

transferred to your account.

We consider this amount as a down payment

on the later on to establish salvage

remuneration.

THE MINISTER OF DEFENSE

For him, THE HEAD OF THE

CIVIL LAW OFFICE

Mr. F. A. von Heijden


Director Personnel, Royal Navy.

Civil-Law officePost office box 20702, 2500 ES The Hague

Telephone 070-169111

Telegrams address Navy The Hague.

Telex nr. 31335

Our number -1010623/1004679Subject: Salvage Hr. Ms. Naarden /

Hr. Ms. Ommen (Jzc 2/443).

To Mr. G. Theunisse


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Sasdijk AB, 4671 RP DINTELOORD

Proposal-/ order nr. 200/3/400/01220

Datum October 10, 1983

With respect to the meeting of September 21,

1983 at Rotterdam, I convey to you that I am

prepared to pay - under the condition of full and

complete discharge - for the salvage of the

ships Hr. Ms. Naarden en Hr. Ms. Ommen, on

February 1, 1983 at the Haringvliet, carried out

by the tugboats Fury-2, Noordpool and

Spitsbergen; the amount of f. 150,000 (One

hundred and fifty thousand guilders).

Since an amount of f. 25,000- is already paid to

you, a further amount of f. 125,000 will bebeen transferred to your account.

I request you to send me proof in writing from

Smit-International that they have given their

approval to you to handle this case in their

name.THE MINISTER OF DEFENSE, for him,

THE HEAD OF THE CIVIL-LAW OFFICE,



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Legal affairs office

Telegram address: Navy - The Hague

To Mr. G. Theunisse

Sasdijk AB, 4671 RP Dinteloord

Our number Proposal-/order

number 1011113/1004679

The Hague, November 11, 1983

Subject: Salvage Hr. Ms. Naarden /

Hr. Ms. Ommen (Jzc 2/443)

With respect to your letter October 11, 1983, I

bring to your attention, if still necessary, that on

September 21, 1983 at Rotterdam partiesagreed fully about the amount to pay by us.

After long deliberations and talks, both parties

agreed with the amount of f. 150,000-

VAT was never been mentioned at this

meeting, neither by you, nor by the Mrs.Noordzij or Bom from Smit-International.

During this meeting, it was clear on both sides

that the offer of f. 150,000 was the highest

offer to which the Royal Navy was prepared to


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go. For this reason, I request you to send me a

letter conform my request in my letter dated

October 10, 1983.

THE MINISTER VAN DEFENSE, for him,

THE HEAD OF THE CIVIL-LAW OFFICE


Well, what did I tell you?

THE END


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84/148

enough to anchor. Not for a million bucks, he

wouldnt!

On the VHF, those emergency anchoring

maneuvers are immediately followed by those

peculiar kinds of prayers to the strangest

breeds of Gods, with a wide variety of hellfire,

damnation, cursing, and some very

complicated comparisons made by skippers

among each other, about more specific names

of parts of the human body from every gender,

which I shall gracefully omit here.

In about five minutes, the river is now speckled

with radar-echoes big and small, and

everywhere. VHF ship-to-ship traffic-channelsare completely cocked-up with strange noises,

faintly tickling ones oldest DNA particles of

ones memory about those long forgotten secret

and bloody barbaric ceremonies from our

ancestors in the long gone far away densewoods of the evening land.

Andrests assure: when there is a fog coming

up quickly as this, the tide is falling, always!

Therefore, in short, you must be one hell of


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quick learner, navigating by radar on these

waters in fall, when you are suddenly called for

by a desperate mayday, being just a rookie

salvage captain!

A real good lesson I learned from River Master

G. de B., at the time assigned to RWS-Post

Wemeldinge.

We were searching like howling madmen in the

densest of a fog for a large Eiltank motor

tanker with an evenly large tanker barge

attached alongside, which unit had short before

reported herself grounded at falling tide, of

course and from then had vanished from the

radio channels. Afterwards, it turned out thatafter she hit the ground, the captain had started

telephone frenzy with his owner, reason why

we could not reach him no more.

We, searching and searching along in great

haste, staring ourselves silly in the radarscreen, and didnt found shit! Until Ger called

on the VHF from twenty miles away, Hey you,

dude, turn you gain knob slowly back until

your screen starts to look real empty!


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Mind you about this Radar, onboard Fury-2 that

time; this was an ancient DECCA set, filled up

with glass radio valves, large and small (large

mostly), glowing mysteriously in the dark with

bluish radiation and always a distinct smell of

ozone around it. It didnt had ARPA you know,

or VRM distance measuring, or a build-in

compass, let alone GPS tracks, speed, ETA or

whatever! Just a very long but still narrow CRT

in a box, weighing about one Ton, with a thick,

fat sweep wobbling around and some blurred

rings on it, resembling only remotely ones

average mileage and distances. Of course,

DECCA is still around and much moresophisticated these days.


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The good old Decca

Obeying little boys as we were, I followed his

advice immediately, and first, of course, the

weaker echoes disappeared from the CRT.Next, the contours from the coast vanished,

followed by t

maritime salvage tales of the unexpected

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