few

This is the story of

World’s Greatest Seafarin’ Dog

Wherein ye shall find the answers to most of the mysterious questions of life, love, and most importantly, how not to be considered a dock rat lookin’ landlubber. If ye be faint of heart or afflicted with scurvy or sentimentality it is strongly recommended that ye should shove off now. Later the story pitches fore and aft leaving the lubberly hanging over the side three sheets to the wind, as mountainous waves of wisdom come crashing onto yer head. Further it is suggested that due to mild brutality Captain Shadow may not be appropriate for very young readers.

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……………………………………………………………………… Captain Shadow

Copyright 1999 in U. S. A. by James E. Hess

All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America.

Published by Shadow Meself.

First Printing October 1999. Second Printing October 2000. Third Printing October 2002.

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CHAPTER Title

1 My Trip to the Seashore 2 I see My destiny 3 I Become A sailor

4 Hook and the Harbor Rats 5 Birthday Surprises 6 Duty Calls 7 I Enlist in the U.S. Navy 8 The USS Deliver 9 Into the Eye of the Storm 10 Fuel Buoy 735 11 Sailors Dead Man’s Hand 12 Lost at Sea

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Some four legged drunken scallywags have dribbled about the veracity or truthfulness of some of the details of this account of the adventures described within. Let me send those unsolicited aspersions where they belong, to Davy Jones locker. Every word in this story is true. These events happened exactly as retold here. The only embellishments or fabrications are those which are plainly portrayed as truth. This is a true story and I, Captain Shadow, hereby swear under the risk of penalty by keelhaul that this is an accurate recounting of the history of my life.

CAPTAIN SHADOW

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IntroductionThe sky was dark haze gray in Deadwood, South Dakota

on a day so cold most of the locals who normally only nodded or tipped their hat to each other made some comment, such as “Cold enough for you?” or “Nippy even for this time of year.” The cold is my first memory of October 19th, the day I was born. That date would turn out to be one of my life’s little ironies. My second memory is of the family which surrounded me, warm and soft, in sharp contrast to the frozen metal bars of the cage we were all held within. The first month or so wasn’t too bad; I had brothers and sisters bigger than I so I always ended up on the bottom. All I had to do was keep my nose poked out somewhere near my mother’s belly and I was actually quite warm lying there under a wiggling soft mass of puppies, all my kin, and with fur soft as mine. Even today, decades later, the occasional new dog I meet on the dock comments on my luxurious coat. Which would later help to save my life. I am a mix of two breeds, Border Collie and Black Labrador. This combination resulted in two of my best physical attributes, black fur soft and long, and a perfectly symmetrical snout. All my life humans and canines have told me I’m very handsome so I guess it must be true. Even though it sounds strange for me to say it. It’s even stranger that this allowed me to see my first Christmas. This physical beauty was a gift from

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God and a gift not bestowed on all my littermates that bitter cold winter.

There were seven of us to start and by Thanksgiving we were six, one of lost to the kennel cough By the time the Wagon Noise came we were four, two more to the kennel cough. I was still smallest but I was growing stronger than the others because I had not yet caught it.

We spent most of our time as new pups do, nourishing ourselves, playing and sleeping. Our play was rough and angry though because of our miserable environment. Metal mesh on all six sides about three feet square. Newspaper on the bottom was changed weekly. Sleep also was difficult. Our Mother nourished us so we were able to survive … most of us. We were in one of hundreds of cages; nearly all with occupants just like us, a mother with her litter. I never knew my father. The only thing I can relate about him is what our mother told us, that he was a working Border collie on the farm and also very handsome, named McCall. She was also very proud that he had the reputation of being the best herding dog in the state. Sometimes late at night she would wake us after most of the other noise had subsided. She would tell us to listen and how to differentiate his voice from the others. I could tell his woeful howl was directed to me, and how very much he yearned to be with us. But it was not to be, as I have said, I never knew him. That left an empty place in my heart, but perhaps there was a reason it was that way. Perhaps there was an empty place there so that there would be a vacuum to welcome the love soon to come my way. My mother’s name was Annie Mae McCall.

The day the Wagon Noise came everything changed. Never again did I see my mother or my siblings. I suddenly realized they where what had been giving me warmth, not only my skin, but in my heart. Even now a certain odor will come

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wafting across the channel and I will wonder what ever became of my family, if any of them have fared as well as I. But there is no way I can acquaint the reader with how well I have done. How I have become the first canine Captain of a ship on the high seas. How I have sailed in all Seven Seas with nary a glance over my shoulder to see what cresting wave of sentiment over lost family members might swamp my craft, no matter how stalwart a dog can make his crew or ship. No way to tell you how well life has turned out to be for me without telling you the reader of the misfortunes that came my way first.

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CHAPTER ONEMy Trip to the Seashore

My keen sense of smell alerted me to the danger faster than my litter mates. By this time they all had caught the kennel cough. For some reason I had not. I had developed unmistakably better and my mother had begun to spend more time grooming me probably expecting instinctively I would be her only survivor. I think she knew I would be taken from her. I think she knew I would soon face danger and she could turn her attention back to my litter mates.

The unfamiliar scent in the air came from up by the road. I could see a human approaching us in black clothing. As he got nearer I could see he wore a black hat. Below the brim I could see his eyes. They were as black as the sleep of death. His breath was overwhelming as he banged on the cages to rouse the healthy. I leaped at him and snarled as he reached in to pick me up. He roughly grabbed me by the back of my neck and tossed me into a bag he carried. I have never remembered much about being in that bag but I do remember well the first sensations of movement that I felt. Until then I had always been in a stationary cage and I suddenly felt the movement. I was very frightened by it.

I had heard the Wagon Noise faintly and after he got me into the bag I could hear it steadily growing louder and stronger as we moved toward it. He would stop, and opening the bag dump another scared pup into the bag with me. We hadn’t known each other before and were all quite afraid. There was a lot of biting and growling and I remember tasting

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blood on my tongue. I am proud to say that I had not drawn any of this blood, and to this day I have never bitten another dog.

When I thought the Wagon Noise couldn’t possibly get any louder the bag was thrown on a metal surface with a violent bang and we were all dumped out into a cage in the back of the truck. I will try to describe the horrible noise we all were forced to endure almost continually for the next four days. It was like a giant dog growling. It caused the whole floor of the truck to vibrate and I somehow knew it was connected to the horrible smell of fumes, which filled the back of the truck. Fumes that made us all sick and pretty quickly ended the frightened fighting between us that had punctuated our experience so far.

After awhile the Wagon Noise stopped and the Man in Black came around to the side and opened a window letting the cold air blow over us. This helped with the fumes, which would have killed us all. Now we were very cold and continued to be for two days as the Wagon Noise screamed westward.

We huddled together for that two days and it was almost the same as it had been with my brothers and sisters, I was once again the smallest but they didn’t smell right. Nor did any of them have the soft fur of my family. But they were as warm and that served me well. Our cage was never cleaned during this four day trip. Neither were we fed. We had water that was filthy with the results of our fear, the fumes, and debris which flew around inside the back of the Wagon Noise. There was no more fighting between us.

After the first three days the weather began to warm and most of us were still alive. The Man in Black threw those who weren’t out alongside the road. It was about this time that I got

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the kennel cough. It was also about then that I noticed a yellow lab pup twice my size that would lock my gaze.

I met a girl. She was my age and I had noticed her scent

in the bag. She was Molly. We immediately curled together. Her hair was chestnut and white and her snout was beautiful. Her eyes were the color of violets and sparkled like a gypsy. She shivered and I tried my best not to let her feel the draft. We were together just those few days but her memory has never left me. I remembered her still when I met her years later during my retirement.

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CHAPTER TWOI See My Destiny

It was one week before Christmas when we crossed the mountains into Southern California. We were all in a very sad condition. We hadn’t eaten in four days and all were very cold up in those mountains. The kennel cough was rampant among all of us. As miserable as we were, I witnessed for the first time in my life something that has remained with me for all these years. Something that has made me able to overcome even the worst of the terrible misfortunes that would come my way.

It was early morning and first light had not come yet, but I could see okay with a full moon shining in through the rear window of the truck. The Wagon Noise had been roaring in my young ears the whole time so I could barely hear anything. That noise and the vibration that accompanied it has caused me ever since to be very reluctant to get into one of those machines. Along with the smell of the fumes it amazes me that men put up with them.

In the dim light I could make out the form of one of the other pups curled up, coughing with violent jerking motions almost non-stop. Although I didn’t fully understand then the fullness and finality of death, I had seen enough at my tender

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age to know that soon the dark form would be very still and the next time the truck stopped it would be taken out and left on the side of the road.

I wanted very much to be taken out of the truck so I tried to be still…as still as those lucky pups who had been taken out periodically throughout the trip.

As I lay there as still as I could be my cough only giving me away every few minutes, I saw one of the other pups drag himself up and over to the filthy water dish. He sipped up as much as he could and just seemed to stand there for a while, his body swaying back and forth with the motion of the truck. His head wearily hanging above the water dish. He was looking at the dog that had the cough so bad. Then I saw him dip his snout deeply into the water dish. He made his way over to the sick pup and let the water drip off his face onto the mouth of the pup that would soon be still. He did this a few more times, each time as he would let his head hang down to let the water drip onto the tongue of the dying pup, he seemed to be looking directly at me. I don’t know if he even knew I was there, but that scene of him struggling to comfort that poor coughing pup has remained with me all of my life. It is one of my most treasured lessons I have learned in life…this simple gesture greatly affected me and is probably at the very center of what ever has made me able to transcend the limits of most canines. I doubt if I could have handled the stresses and mental tortures of command at sea if I had not seen with my own eyes at such a tender and impressionable age how simple greatness can be.

I owe a huge debt to that wavering form swaying above the nearly lifeless pup huddled below, water dripping slowly down. A debt I can never repay, unless in some way the retelling of it here may inspire the reader to try hard, as I have, to emulate the kindness I saw that moonlit dreary night.

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The sun rose a little later and the coughing puppy was still. A while later the truck stopped. The Man in Black came and picked up the still form and tossed it far out into a field on the side of the road. Tossed it to freedom from the Wagon Noise and the misery we were all enduring. I tried to be as still as it had been, but my cough gave me away. In the strong light of the day, I couldn’t make out which of my fellow travelers had performed the act of kindness. And soon enough I was distracted from thoughts of it by an act of such extreme contrast that it was months before I ever thought of that good Samaritan again.

The yellow lab that had staring at me for days suddenly leapt to his feet and lunged at me fangs bared, he sank his teeth into my foot as I raised it up in defense. I was so surprised that I must confess I did not put up much of a fight. Then the stopping of the truck abruptly surprised us all.

We were parked on the side of the road at the top of a mountain and the Man in Black was out walking around and stretching himself. Then I saw it, off in the far distance, in a haze that could not disguise the sheer size of it. It was so big that I knew I was seeing something for the first time and that it was profound. Of course I could not have known at the time what a profound influence it would have on my life. Nor did I know that the faint smell in the air, new to me, was associated with it.

Mostly I was just aware of the pain in my foot and had no idea I had just seen and smelled for the first time in my life the Ocean.

The rest of the trip was uneventful and soon we were two or three at a time dropped off at pet stores. It was just a few days before Christmas and there was excitement in the air. We were sick and the noises of the children as they passed by our

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cages were frightening. I was alone in a cage with the yellow lab that had bitten me. He was relentless. Jumping on me and knocking me around so much that I was soon over in a corner just hoping that he would be distracted by the children only a little longer each time. My attention was on the yellow pup so I did not see them when they first came in the pet store. A man and a woman were all of a sudden in front of my cage looking at me, not at the yellow lab as most of the people had done. I heard her say “Isn’t he about the right size for a boat dog?” And he grumbled something, and they moved away.

Then, he came back and reached into the cage and picked me up. He carried me around the shop for a few minutes and I was afraid. I did a few little coughs, so he would put me back, it had worked before, and it worked again. He put me back in the cage.

Then she reached in and picked me up. A human woman had never held me and I was immediately struck by the similarity to the way my mother had felt to me. As she carried me around the store, talking very softly, I stayed very still in her arms hoping that some how this would last forever. It worked. The next thing I knew I was in their Wagon Noise but it was so different this time. I was in her arms and she was holding me close to her and for the first time in my life I felt love for a human. I knew that it was something like I had seen the night before when the dog had given water to the dying pup.

They took me to the sailboat they lived on and my life began.

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CHAPTER ThreeI Become a Sailor

That first night I was of course quite frightened. I had never been on a boat nor had I been with people who treated me well. The smell of the ocean was very strong here and while not unpleasant it was overpowering my ability to smell anything else. I was more afraid of the noises around the boat than anything. It was foggy and the foghorn was especially scary. Human children ran on the dock with the flatfooted run that makes loud noises. The man was the Skipper and she the First Mate. He seemed to be intent on playing with me. She was just loving and gentle. I was not too sure yet about the playing as I had never done it before and at first was sure he was just trying to dominate me. I did not like it much at first but it

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wasn’t long before I caught on that it was fun and after a while I came to enjoy it. The loving that she showed me was immediately to my liking though and I have learned since that this love was what caused me to survive an otherwise extremely hard start in life.

All I had known before from humans had been brutality so I was very lucky that these two people had taken me in. Had I been saved by people with children, I probably would not have made it. I still don’t care much for children although I will let them pet me for a minute. I learned right away that my primary job was to guard the boat. I will not let people aboard unless they have properly requested permission to come aboard. This is a cardinal rule and in the reading I did those first few months I learned that there are many important rules and regulations associated with boating since it can be a very dangerous life.

The first morning they took me out on the bay in the sailboat and I was fascinated with the way the boat moved across the water so silently. Since that day I have spent the happiest times of my life on the water with the sail full and the waves lapping against the hull. My Skipper says the simple act of raising the sail and letting the wind push the boat along is about as close as one can get to feeling the hand of God. I was interested in everything that first morning and I saw things that seemed so strange to me that I was sure my heart would burst with the sheer joy of what my life had become. I saw a sea lion swimming next to the boat and in my excitement running the length of the boat I fell in the water. The Captain hauled me out by my life preserver and as I was shaking the water off I slipped and fell in again. They were both laughing and I wasn’t familiar with laughter yet but I kind of liked it. So I jumped in again. They were both so happy and I was too. The Skipper taught me a lesson then. He did not pull me out right

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away and I got very tired swimming there next to the boat. When I began to get a little scared he hauled me out and took me up on the fore deck and explained to me that a sailors place is on the water and not in the water. He said that some people and some dogs do get in the water but a true sailor always stays in the boat. I took the lesson very seriously and even now when I see a diver in the water or a dog swimming I try to tell them, but it seldom does any good. I have seen people and dogs get in serious trouble in the water. I have always instructed my crew to stay aboard at all times and though I know there is disagreement about this subject I believe that the lessons my Skipper taught me are sound. I do know this; I have seen people and dogs both drowned in the water but never in the boat. Of course there is the exception of when the boat is sinking but I will address that in a later CHAPTER.

But for now let me try to tell you about the happiness that was in my heart that first day. We took the boat to a small cove and the Captain showed me how to drop anchor. He said I would not have to do this normally but I should know how if he and the First Mate were hurt or not aboard. He showed me what to do if the anchor began to drag and they were not aboard. He explained to me that sometimes they would go ashore while at anchor and it would be my responsibility to keep strangers off the boat and make sure that I reset the anchor if it dragged so the boat would be there when they returned. He told me how the boat could drift out to sea and I could be lost in a very cold climate.

I listened to all of this very intently for I knew that this was my purpose. This was the reason I had been born. And most importantly, I listened because I did not want to be separated from the First Mate. I soon got a taste of that. I learned that I would always stay with him, but sometimes she would go

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somewhere without me. I tried very hard in the beginning to tell them how much I hated this, but along with the many other things I was learning I came to accept it. I still hate being separated from her even for a few minutes but I have learned that it is okay. She will come back to us every time and then I can show her how very much she was missed.

CHAPTER FourHook and the Harbor Rats

As I grew I was allowed much freedom. My Skipper had seen a movie once years before named “Greyfriar’s Bobby”. He explained to me that the dog had intrigued him in that movie with the freedom it enjoyed making the rounds of the town in which it lived. He said the self- reliance the dog had was to be an important part of my development and I should try to imitate it as much as I could and become somewhat independent.

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The first few mornings I was very timid so I would just go straight to the rack where the dinghies are stored and hide under one of them until I felt it had been long enough and then go back to our boat trying to look as though I had been on a long interesting walk.

One of those first mornings I went to the dinghies and as I was crouching to crawl under them I saw the dark silhouette of a creature I had never seen before. We were both startled and as I began to try and back my way out from under there I saw the creature arch its back in a most intriguing manner. It’s back was obviously much more limber than mine for as it arched the front legs were nearly touching the back legs. It made a screeching howl that curdled my blood and scared me so bad I bumped my head on one of the dinghies. I think it must have knocked me senseless for a few moments because the next thing I knew I was on the ground stretched out on my side with what felt like sandpaper rubbing on my nose. I shook my head to clear it and before I realized what was happening the black silhouette leapt up very high and landed quite gracefully on the top row of dinghies.

And there it sat, still as could be and very self assured, looking down at me with a look of disdain which intimidated me so much that I was immediately struck with the lack of fear I felt from that stare.

Normally, animals use the unblinking glare I was transfixed by to intimidate in a menacing way. But this was different in that I could barely see a twinkle in one of the eyes. A twinkle that somehow managed to convey to me a humorous message, which belied the glowing, orb which surrounded it. A twinkle that set me at ease and made me feel perhaps there was an opportunity here to learn something from this strange animal.

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Then it said in a weird sounding throaty purr, ”What are you looking for under these dinghies and why are you not on a leash?”

Needless to say I was surprised to hear real words coming from its mouth as I had only heard words from humans before. I still thought I was human at that time so I said in as intelligent a voice as I could muster, ”Uh what?”

“ I said, where is your leash, where is your human, why are you invading my territory under these dinghies? “

Well, one thing lead to another and soon we were both curled up under the dinghies exchanging pleasantries and stories. He told me he was a cat and that he had lived here at the harbor for years. He said his name was Hook and that he was in charge of all the cats in the harbor that didn’t have a boat to live on. Hook went on to say that he and his crew was serving a useful service in the harbor. He said in a very low and menacing voice,” We keep the rat population down.”

I had never seen a rat before but have seen plenty since and I for one will say that Hook and his buddies do a great service for us all by “keeping the population down”. A little later that morning Hook took me over behind one of the restaurants (I wont say which one) and showed me first hand how he earned his keep.

At my still tender age I was pretty shocked by what he showed me that morning but it was an important lesson for me to learn. Hook told me then about a thing called the food chain and how some of us creatures had a purpose that was of a higher calling than others. He explained how I, as a boat dog, had one of the highest. He puffed his chest up as he told me his calling was right behind mine and as I looked at the mess

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he had made of that rat I believed him. But I must have offended him when I asked, ”Do you eat them?”

In an aloof voice which made me think I had lost my new friend he retorted “No of course not, I take it over and leave it by the back door of the sport fishing store and they give me cat food. The best cat food that money can buy and probably much better than anything you eat.” And with that he spun on his rear paws and pranced away looking for all the world to see that he was truly the most regal of any creature on earth. I followed along after him for awhile. As we made our way among the tourists they seemed quite surprised to see a dog with his head hanging as low as it would go, tail between my legs, and ahead of me, head held high, a cat looking as much as he could, well fed.

He took me then to meet a friend of his. A human named Jim whose job seemed to be guarding the gate to the parking lot. Jim was, and is, a very nice man who that first morning (and most mornings since) gave me a very tasty treat. He is the kind of man who knows on the mornings when he is out of treats to apologize and sometimes I would rather have the apology though I never have figured out why.

I continued my morning walks after that with a hopeful eye out for Hook (he can be very busy at sometimes of the year). The times that I spend with my friend Hook are very precious to me for I know I owe my freedom to him in a way. I can very easily imagine myself still hiding under that dingy waiting for enough time to pass, so that I could go back to show my Skipper how well I was gaining independence. And every time I see Hook I am careful to mention how good he looks, and well fed.

Soon I made other friends as I would make my rounds. There is Dave at the liquor store who usually has beef jerky for

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me and next door at West Marine, Tyrone is usually good for a biscuit. Then as I continue my routine I stop by The Chocolate Soldier, a candy store where more often than not De or Nancy has a bone they have saved from the previous evening’s meal. And then, bone in mouth I prance just like a cat back to the boat where my Skipper and the First Mate are waiting for me. Waiting to praise me and show me how proud they are that I have been able to make so many friends. Then I lay on the bow of the boat and enjoy the flavor of my new bone, thinking every time about the even sweeter flavor of friendship.

CHAPTER FiveBirthday Surprises

(for My Skipper and I)

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It was not long after I began to make friends that I had my first birthday. I was resting out on the dock next to Featherfin one afternoon with one eye on a seagull that had taken up residence on the boat next to us. Seagulls can make a terrible mess on a boat. One of the responsibilities I had come to enjoy was ensuring that no birds made a mess on Featherfin. I was waiting for this particular seagull to try perching on our yardarm. It was a rare occurrence at this point because I pretty well had convinced the local birds not to try, but occasionally a new arrival would make the attempt.

About then I heard the First Mate talking in the tone of voice she uses on the phone, which usually would precipitate visitors. I cocked one ear and heard her say the name Ford and I knew we were about to receive guests. Ford is a black lab, great Dane mix, much younger than I. And he was my first male canine friend. He is a very high spirited guy who is always ready to try anything new and loves adventure. Ford has since grown to over 100 pounds but at the time he was still smaller than I. He had with him his humans Tiffany and Shawn who are the grown children of my humans. As Ford was still quite young he and I were still working out the details of our relationship. I knew he would someday be much larger than I so the window of opportunity would soon run out to show him I was the alpha. He was very rambunctious that day and still pulling mightily on his leash as he approached me on the dock.

Just as I was about to pretend anger at his behavior I noticed his human Tiffany was carrying a large sweet smelling object shaped like a huge dog bone. It had the names Shadow and Skipper written on top of it. My attention on this cake diverted me from my responsibility to settle Ford down and in

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his excitement over seeing me he fell off the dock into the water. The Skipper pulled him out to take him up on the bow for his ”Sailors’ stay out of the water” lecture. Of course my interest in the cake superceded anything else. About then Hook and his crew arrived and right behind Hook came Oscar and Maxine, two house cats accompanied by their humans, Robert and Christie. Robert and Christie are also the grown children of my humans. Oscar is a very independent and strong willed tabby with faint stripes that make him look like a tiger. Maxine is a lovely black and white and she is the personification of elegance.

Until now we had never had so many visitors and people and animals just kept arriving, there was Jim, my friends Dave and Tyrone and De and Nancy. Hook had brought his whole crew so by the time we were all aboard Featherfin her waterline was completely submerged but no one seemed to care much. After the Skipper finished his time on the bow with Ford he called me forward as everyone settled below decks. My Skipper explained to me that this gathering was a celebration of our birthdays. Yes, it turned out we were both born on the same day of the year, October 19th. He went on to say that I should take extra care to behave myself that day since I was a “birthday boy” and as such I would be the center of attention, not to let the attention cause me to show off. We then went below and good times were had by all. I had a special hat to wear, a funny pointed hat, which

said Happy Birthday on it, and so did my Skipper. Tiffany had made the cake without sugar so all were able to enjoy it. The First Mate put candles on the cake and my Skipper and I blew out the flames. My Skipper made a wish but I did not as mine had already come true and I couldn’t think of anything else I wanted. Ford got a little drunk but most of us stayed out of the alcoholic beverages that Hook’s crew had brought along.

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We normally don’t allow alcohol on board but Hook explained to me that we should make an exception in this case because his crew might be offended and start a brawl. Of course this was the first time Ford had been exposed to beer so he didn’t know what to expect and we all forgave him. He started a fight with one of Hook’s crew named Black Whiskers and Ford got quite a scratch on his nose, which bled profusely. Black Whiskers was quite angry at being disheveled in this altercation. Robert took Black Whispers aside and settled him down while Shawn took Ford off the boat to try and sober him by walking that poor pup in the fresh air. Ford could hardly stand up and wobbled more than walked making us all smile. All in all it was the high point of the party though and everyone else was quite entertained. It seems the disagreement had begun as the ‘Happy Birthday To You’ song was in progress and Black Whispers had made some comment about Fords’ howling off key.

After Ford’s injury was attended to (he looked quite comical with a bandage across his nose) gifts were presented to the birthday boys. Robert gave my Skipper a new Global Positioning S… and to me he gave a new bandana with a neat Jolly Roger emblem on it. Tiffany gave my Skipper and I matching Captain’s hats and pictures were immediately taken of us together wearing them. The First Mate had wrapped up some new matching life jackets for us and we struck a pose for the camera with all our new gear. Hook and his crew had wrapped up some rubber toys shaped like rats and everyone laughed heartily. Christie gave us both scented candles with neat brass holders. Shawn and Ford gave us a ship’s log for Featherfin. At this point I have forgotten what other gifts we received that day but am sure they were all very appropriate and well appreciated. After we opened our presents, some of Hook’s crew decided to terrorize some seagulls and in the

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ensuing ruckus some guests were knocked overboard. Of course I had to warn everyone to get out of the water. Later that evening after Hook and his crew had staggered home, Oscar apologized to me for the actions of his species and I told him that it hadn’t been his fault. He and Maxine are much more civilized and do not behave in such an atrocious manner. Maxine was very embarrassed and could not stop crying but Christie held her and settled her down. It turned out the reason Maxine was so upset was that another of Hook’s crew, called Blue Beard, had made a pass at her, trying to steal a kiss when no one was looking. When Oscar heard this he wanted to go after them but we restrained him. Ford had passed out by this time.

I have never touched alcohol because my Skipper so strongly advised against it. And from what I have seen over the many years I have traveled the world I am sure he was right. I have seen boats lost, families destroyed and animals mistreated because of that evil beverage. I have witnessed mostly poor behavior by those who are under its influence and I personally believe that I am steering a true course when I suggest to the reader that you steer your course around those dangerous rocks.

The next morning Ford was hung over and it was hilarious to hear him saying over and over “Never again, never again, never again”. The rest of us were quite content with memories that had been created the previous evening, and all agreed that the celebration of my first birthday had been a huge success in spite of the inebriation. My Skipper told me that I had made him very proud and he and I spent the rest of the day sailing around the harbor in the little sabot, which he had presented me with the day before as a birthday present. It was my first boat. I still have it. I have not used it much the last few years. I just can’t seem to part with it even though many

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collectors and museums have offered to buy it. I learned to sail on that little boat and it represents so many good times to me, I suppose I will never give her up. Her name is Annie Mae. We noted that day most of Hook’s crew were sleeping as the rats ran unchecked across the jetty.

I began to meet other people on the dock. Some would be friendly and some would not. I learned that some people like dogs and some don’t and I came to understand that I had been with people who didn’t before I came to the sea. At first I thought that the people by the sea all liked dogs. I came to realize that was not true. I think that all dogs like people at first. But if dogs are with people who don’t like dogs, like I was at first, then the dogs learn to mistrust people. The first people I was with mistreated me and the dogs I was with. I was lucky that people who understood this took me and I believe that the first few months of my life were as they were for a reason. All people cannot be trusted and I have learned to tell the scent of those that are bad. I have learned that there are indeed bad people in the world. Perhaps they were not with good people when they were young just as I know can happen with dogs. The love and affection I was shown by my Captain and First Mate when I was young is what saved me from being a bad dog. I know this is the truth and I think it is a lesson. Dogs and people are not that different as it turns out and I try to communicate this simple fact to all the dogs I meet. Don’t all dogs and people love the feel of warm sunshine on their face? Doesn’t the softness of a warm caress give us the relaxed feeling that everything is all right?

I have researched the history of this relationship between dogs and humans and it goes back so far that it is truly prehistoric in the purest sense of the word. We have been together since men started recording history.

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Dogs have been on boats with humans since the first boats were put on the water. I see dogs go by sitting up on the bow of the boat and I know first hand that I am looking at a creature that has fulfilled his destiny. And sometimes when I see a dog I can see that he too, just like me, was very close to not ever being happy. There is a lesson to be learned from this. If every person in the world had a dog and learned to make that dog happy, and if every dog had a human and learned to make that human happy there would be no bad dogs and there would be no bad humans. It is a simple fact that the ordinary act of compassion for another living thing is at the root of personal happiness.

I began my journey under the worst of conditions. But the things I have learned from compassionate humans and compassionate dogs are the things that have allowed me not only to survive but flourish. Put simply, I know that I am giving you the reader a basic and sound piece of advice when I suggest that you get a dog and treat him well. If you cannot then just treat the dogs you meet well and you will not regret it. Unless he is already a bad dog. Then you will be bitten. …. So always ask the human first. Then, if it is allowed, you can pet the dog, you can scratch his ears and belly. And you will see if you look closely and deep into his eyes that you and he are as close to heaven as you will be in this life.

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CHAPTER SixDuty Calls

Well, my life continued to get better than it had been and I learned more and more each day. My Skipper was very impressed with my ability to pick up new things so quickly and he delighted in challenging me with new things to learn. He would teach me things as if I was human and it was years before I realized I was not. I sat at the dinette to eat with him and the First Mate when we had our meals. I learned to have table manners and observe other customs unique to human behavior. The First Mate was a wonderful cook and I remember those first two years I spent with them on the boat they had named “FEATHERFIN” very fondly. The name of the boat had been inspired by a writing of Henry David Thoreau in which that highly respected author had compared a rightly designed sailboat to resemble two animals, each in its correct environment. The hull shaped as much as possible like a fish and the sail like a bird’s wing. After all my adventures I

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returned to live with them aboard that sailboat Featherfin which has always felt to me like home. I remember once in the Gulf of Tonkin when I was aboard a salvage ship and very homesick for my First Mate and Skipper I took a large sheet from my bunk and went up on deck. I held it up into the wind and let it fill with a mild breeze like a sail just to feel and hear something which would remind me of those two people I had come to love. But surely the reader is by now wondering how I came to be in the Gulf of Tonkin, a Commissioned Officer in the United States Navy. How I selected to be the first of what has become a long line of dedicated canine seagoing patriots.

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One day the Skipper and I were just sailing around the harbor in our little sabot. He seemed different than usual and I could tell something was bothering him. I tried to lift his spirits with a few well-placed licks on his ears and as usual he laughed and returned the favors with a good scratching of my belly. But then he got serious again and explained what was bothering him. He told me that as I had learned already there were bad men in the world and that sometimes those bad men formed together to have a war. That even though he was against this he did feel that the freedom the three of us enjoyed living on our boat and the life we had was something that had been earned for us by men who were willing to go to war to fight to protect our freedom. He told me that he had been bragging about me in the yacht club a few nights before. That one of the retired Navy men there had said that a dog such as me, with such an unerring sense of direction and well-honed seamanship skills was sorely needed in the Navy at this time. My Skipper told me that it was a decision only I should make, that I would be forced to endure things similar to the things which had happened to me before I came to the sea. But this time the difference would be that I would suffer for a greater cause, the cause of freedom. He explained that I might see horrible things, that I would sometimes be very cold and that I might even be killed. By this time I could see that he was nearly crying. He held me in his arms (something I rarely let him do) and we floated there with the passing pleasure boats tossing our little sabot about without regard for us, or our dilemma. In his arms with his tears falling upon my face, I knew this was my duty. I understood that I would do anything for him and I trusted that he knew what was best. Years later after I returned from the war he told me that he had been wrong about that particular war and that he never should have let me go. But I went.

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CHAPTER SevenI Enlist in the United States Navy

I reported aboard the USS HASSAYAMPA, an oiler. When I first heard the name of that fine ship I was of course struck by the strange name she had been commissioned under. (The reader may see pictures of her by entering a search of her name on the World Wide Web). I soon found out that her name had been derived from the Indian name for a particular river and was intended to demonstrate her function. To serve as a “river “ of supplies and fuel to our other ships at sea so that they could remain on station, without the need to return to port.

My first impression of her was one of awe. She was huge. Longer than a football field and taller than any skyscraper I had ever seen. She was in dry dock at the time so I could even see her hull. I wondered if my Skipper had ever seen such a craft. The next time I talked to him on the phone (I was in Hawaii) I told him about her. We both were about as pleased as we could be that I had been fortunate enough to be stationed aboard such a substantial vessel.

I began my service in this ship as a Quartermaster and as such I was responsible for assisting the Navigator with weather monitoring and navigation. As I began to learn about navigation I was very impressed with the clever ways that men had devised over the centuries to determine exactly where in the world they are at sea with nothing around but the heavenly bodies in the sky to refer.

I learned that simply by knowing the exact time of day we could reference a table created by a fellow named Bowditch and by measuring the angle of the stars to the horizon we could know through triangulation almost exactly were we were and thus which way we should head to get were we wanted to go.

Which way to go is followed with the use of a compass, of course, and as I learned about these things I found that the compass is something which men needed but for some reason I did not.

My Navigator was a very kind and intelligent man by the name of Mr. Coulter. He quickly noticed my special talents and realized the value of my sense of direction and took me under his wing, so to speak. His tutorage of me and the special attention he gave to my education eventually earned him a commendation from the Admiral of the Fleet. A richly deserved one too I might add, for his recognition of the contribution that dogs can make has resulted in the long line of canine navigators which have followed.

We spent the first six months I was aboard in that dry dock so there was plenty of time to teach me and he did not waste a moment. By the time we set sail (yes that is what they called it though I never saw a sail the whole time) I was extremely well educated but of course had no “hands on” experience at sea. This very nearly proved to be our undoing.

The Captain, a Mr.Denials had never liked the idea of having a dog aboard. He spent most of his time in his state room drinking so he had not been aware of the extent to which Mr. Coulter had involved me in the overall duties on the bridge.

On the third day at sea I was recording in the ships log our heading along with other pertinent information and I made a mistake. The application of variation between true

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compass heading against magnetic heading is something that has tripped up many a navigator, and so did that little detail nearly end my experience as Quartermaster.

A while later I was out on the flying bridge marveling at the blueness of the water when I began to feel uneasy about something though I couldn’t quite put my paw on what it was. The color of the water was so enthralling that I did let it distract me.

Suddenly the Navigator was on the bridge shouting “This is Mr. Coulter and I have the conn! Helmsman right full rudder! All engines back full! “

As I looked over the side of the ship I saw, through the crystal clear water, a ridge of coral so near to us that I was momentarily paralyzed with the fear we would even still hit it. If we had it would surely have ripped a gaping hole in the side of the ship, sinking us within minutes.

Fortunately we did miss it, but the ensuing chewing out I received made me wish for a while that we had all drowned instead.

After he told me just how stupid I had been in, words and tone that left no doubt in anyone’s mind, who was within hearing distance, that I was through on the bridge forever, he went down to the Captains stateroom.

He came back up a few minutes later and announced to everyone’s delight that the Captain had been drunk, and asleep, had missed the whole event. Then he gave me a glare, which electrified the air between his eyes and mine, and without another word left the bridge.

I stood there for a few minutes not sure what to do until the helmsman asked me what the new course should be. I went back to work on the complicated mathematical equation involving the application of magnetic versus true course until I

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was sure I had it right. I gave the helmsman the new course and the rest of the watch we stood without event.

I never heard another word from the navigator about what had very nearly sunk the ship but I have never again plotted a course without double checking that tricky little detail and remembering how very close my carelessness had come to disgracing me, the navigator and my Skipper. My First Mate has never heard this story and I hope even still she will somehow not read it here. Though she probably will. There is nothing I can do about it for it must appear here to help ward off the same thing happening to another sailor. The difference between true north and magnetic north is caused by the fact that the magnetic north pole is some distance from the true North Pole. Where you are on the globe determines to what extent that difference is. You will find that VARIATION info on every chart located in the compass rose. Don’t forget!

As I lay in my bunk that night I thought about how I could have sunk that ship. How I could have dammed up the river which was providing much needed supplies to my countrymen afloat and so far from home. I knew then that the things I was learning were important. Not just to make me a smarter dog. Not just to make the people at home proud of me. Important because there were many people out here on the ocean who depended on me to do things right. So that we could not only prevail in our efforts to protect our freedoms, but even more importantly so that we might eventually all return home to our loved ones safely. Indeed, we were all depending on each other to do so.

I began to assault my work with a renewed sense of purpose. This rapidly resulted in a work ethic that was unparalleled on the ship. There was not another sailor aboard that studied harder or worked longer hours than I did. I achieved promotions as fast as regulations would permit. But,

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this did not come to me free of any cost to my personal relations with the other sailors. In some circles I was the butt of many jokes and at first this bothered me. Fortunately for me, these jokes (mostly canine oriented slurs) brought about a new attitude on my part. I would respond by challenging the offending party to share in his responsibilities to the fleet and rise to his full potential. I did this always by taking that sailor aside, and alone with him I would tell the story of my early years and the struggles I had been through. Without a single exception this always worked. Soon we had sailors all over the ship studying harder and working harder than the Navy had ever seen, all on one ship. It seemed that even sailors I had never talked to were affected. My story spread through the ship like wildfire.

One afternoon the ships Executive Officer, Mr. Grufneed came up on the bridge just as I was being relieved of my watch. This was very unusual and as he strode over to me I was quite alarmed to see that he was obviously going to speak directly to me. The Exec was second in command to the Captain and aboard the Hassayampa this meant that he was most feared. The Captain was always drunk in his stateroom delegating responsibility to the Exec so for all intents and most purposes he ran the ship. Add to this the fact that this particular Exec seemed to really enjoy the act of punishing another person. Everyone aboard avoided him as much as possible. I actually had seen men jump over the side of the ship just to avoid meeting him on a passageway. Of course this only when we were tied to the dock, but still a drastic measure just to avoid a confrontation from him.

Luckily I was more or less pinned to the spot I stood on by his glare or I may have gotten pretty wet right about then. And the spot I stood on very nearly got pretty wet right then as he barked at me, ”Quartermaster follow me!”

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He then spun on his heel and marched off faster than my short legs could keep up with. I did the best I was able though and managed to gain ground when we would reach a ladder because I could jump from one deck to the next while he needed to take one rung at a time. Finally we reached his cabin about the same time and I was amazed to see him holding the hatchway door to his private quarters open for me.

In the Navy, as in the world of dogs, there is much importance attached to who goes through a doorway first.

And here before me I saw an Officer in the Navy, and a human, holding the door for me, an enlisted Quartermaster, and a dog. I was so confused I faltered because it was obvious that he was gesturing for me to enter first and I was further confused by the look he was giving me. He was smiling in such a kind way I could hardly recognize him as the same person I had always seen from a distance, scowling and chewing on the ear of some unfortunate sailor. So, I entered his cabin and at the same time entered a new phase of my life.

When I exited that cabin an hour or so later I was no longer a Quartermaster. As a matter of fact I was no longer enlisted in the Navy. I was a Commissioned Officer with the rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade. He had explained to me that the Navy recognized the talent I had exhibited to motivate men to excel. I was being promoted not so much as a reward but more so that I could have even more effect on the sailors I would meet at my next duty station. Yes, I was to be transferred to a smaller ship. The USS Deliver, a salvage ship, and I was to be the Navigator. He explained that this ship was one of the worst in the fleet, that she was a sound vessel but manned by slackers. The Admiral hoped I could shape them up some, though he had some doubts if it was a possibility. As I left that cabin my head was spinning and my thoughts flew from excitement about the contents of my next letter home to

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amazement that the Admiral of the Fleet even knew I existed. Then as I made my way forward to my sleeping quarters to immediately begin to compose the letter home I thought of the friends I had made the last two years aboard the Hassayampa. I wondered how it would be possible to go. I thought about home and how as soon as I had begun to be happy there I had left, and now once again I was forced to leave people I had come to love. I longed so much for the arms of my First Mate and the rough play the Skipper I loved so much. I would have given anything at that moment to be chewing his finger just hard enough to make him squeal with delight as she in the background scolded the both of us. But I had no choice. I certainly couldn’t go home now just because I was lonesome for them. But it was kind of nice to know that things had changed just a little bit. Now, as a Commissioned Officer I was free to leave whenever I wanted. Not that I would, but just that small difference made me feel a little bit closer to home, to the people I loved, to the bay I had come to love sailing on when I was young and when I had first come to the sea.

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CHAPTER EightThe USS Deliver

I reported aboard the USS Deliver at night so I did not get to see her clearly before I walked up the gangplank for the first time. That was very lucky. If I had seen her first I would most certainly have not walked up that gangway at all. I would have done whatever was necessary to avoid stepping aboard her ever. She was in such a sad condition that she was known far and wide by the nickname USS D'Limper. There were only a few places where her original haze gray paint was visible. The rest of her hull and superstructure was as deep a shade of rusty red as I had ever seen. Even though she was tied to the dock her anchor chain disappeared into the water and huge chunks of the chain were missing. The one gun she sported was a three-inch houser and the barrel was bent. There was a horrible stench of rotting potatoes, which was so pervasive that some of the crew had taken to wearing gasmasks most of the time. Overall it was amazing she remained afloat, and I made the mistake of mentioning this to the Captain as I reported aboard officially the next morning. He was another lush and I could smell the raunchy odor of stale rum on him as he bellowed in response to my unthinking comment. “So you think the likes of you can do better? You four legged lubberly creature. Well, welcome to it! Welcome to the misery of trying to get these slackers to lift a finger. Welcome to the slimy underbelly of the Navy. You come from a ship that carries fuel and supplies and we aboard this floating pig never have supplies enough to

support our functions. You have the nerve to fly in my face with your insults? Well, welcome aboard, welcome to hell. I delegate to you the command of this ship and I delegate to you the responsibility to keep my rum bottle filled. Other than that you are not to address me or even lay eyes upon me again.” With that he roughly shoved me through the hatchway to his stateroom and I never again laid eyes upon him.

As I began to make the attempt to gain the respect of the crew that first few days I realized just how difficult this was going to be. I tried with a few to tell of my early struggles as had worked so well on the Hassayampa, to no avail. In response my ears rung with derisive laughter and jibbing comments such as “Poor puppy” and “Where’s your mamma now?”

I was very disheartened and did not know where to turn. I relayed my situation to my Skipper in my next letter home. He responded that I should take command of this crew and gain their respect through setting an example of what I wanted. He wrote that it sounded to him as though this crew needed to be handled roughly and to leave no doubt in their minds as to who was in charge. He continued to relay that the key to this behavior on my part was to remain fair. This fairness tempered with the strength of my resolve should demonstrate for them that they did indeed have what they so obviously needed, command. Over the next few months I was forced to draw my weapon on many occasions but fortunately only needed to fire it a few times.

There were a few times I was tempted to fire at the men and kill. But each time I realized at the last moment that it was once again, as I had learned so early in my life, that these men had been mistreated, and I was able to restrain my anger.

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On one such occasion it was the ships cook who was defying my authority. He had been serving the crew swill not fit for pigs, and I luckily stumbled upon a key to the crews affections as I held the cook on the deck barking in his ear, ”You will cast over the side all of the rotten food aboard this ship. You will begin as of this moment to realize that the food you serve this crew is going to be judged by me. If it is ever again found to be lacking in the quality we deserve you shall follow the rotten food you will personally cast over the side as soon as I let you up.” I then released this unfortunate fellow and went directly to the ships' commissary man and found he also was in need of my direction. He had been hoarding and bartering the ships compliment of supplies. I found this to be true as I examined his records and I immediately sent him to the brig and notified the admiral that we needed his replacement. There was no replacement available so I began to search through the crews’ roster for a likely man to assume those responsibilities. I found a boy who was from South Dakota by the name of Henderson who seemed as though his integrity was at least an improvement and once again I made a lucky decision. He had been working in the ships' boiler room, a very bad station and I impressed upon him that his new job, that of procuring supplies for the crew was based upon his honesty. I also threatened to return him to the boiler room if his integrity should ever come in question. He seemed to be sincerely impressed with this and also had a talent for the job.

After that I witnessed on several occasion him along with some other willing hands sneaking aboard late at night with food and other supplies I had no idea where they had gotten but there were stories which circulated about missing supplies from neighboring ships. It seems that he had garnered the essence of my references to integrity. The desired result was to provide for us that which had been denied because of our

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reputation. He instinctively realized the intent of my desires. We had heretofore been deprived of the very thing that was necessary for our success. In the Navy, as in real life it is sometimes necessary to bend the rules for a larger cause. This is something I hadn’t known before but I do think that my decision to promote him to the job based on my instinct about where he was from, an area I had some experience of, was ultimately what solved the problem.

After that I noticed as the crew began to eat better there was a difference in the vitality they had. I wasn’t sure how to give this direction until one day I saw two of the men fighting. As I stood up on the bridge I watched them and realized that now with the new energy they had from eating better they needed to have direction but I had not gained control of them yet. They were still an unruly bunch and it would be important for me to have help in getting them to be what we all needed to be, the heart of the ship.

As I watched these two men fighting I saw their bulging muscles and heaving chests. I recognized the power they represented and that I needed to harness that power but I didn’t know where to get the help I was going to need. I thought about the things I had learned from sailing. About how a sailor could pull the boom in against the power of the wind using a block and tackle on the mainsheet. It occurred to me that what I needed was a block and tackle so to speak to pull against the physical power of these fifty or so men who were so like the power of the wind, so out of control and at the whim of uncontrollable forces. Then as I watched these two fellows punching at each other, and saw one of them begin to dominate the other and the reaction of the others who were watching, I knew. As I saw one of them fall over and over, to the deck and rise back up for more punishment from his foe, it came to me. I saw the respect the winner was getting from the

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onlookers and the excitement he was generating among them all, and I saw the answer to my problem.

Later that same day I had posted all over the ship, posters announcing that there was to be a smoker. In the Navy a smoker is what you the reader is more familiar with calling a boxing match. The poster announced that any crewmember that was interested could sign up for participation. There was at once an air of anticipation for the upcoming event and there was little talk of anything else. There were bets being placed and though this is strictly forbidden by naval regulations I knew that once again I would need to be willing to bend the rules for a greater cause, that of gaining control of my crew. The excitement about the smoker grew to a fevered pitch right up to the time that I walked out onto the hastily constructed boxing ring that had been erected.

I stood there in the center of the ring with all eyes upon me until the noises of their shouting finally subsided. Then I let the silence drag for a little until I began to let them see what I was up to.

At the top of my voice I shouted at them, “You are about to witness the worst side of humanity, you are all about to see through a demonstration of brute strength that which you seem to worship the most. I have learned since I have assumed command of this vessel what you need. And I am gong to give you what you need. You have shown me what you need and here tonight you shall have it. But tonight you will see the last of it. There will be no more fighting among the members of this crew after tonight. After this any man who raises a hand against another man on this ship will be shot dead. His body will be then cast over the side and become food for the sharks. I am hereby giving fair warning of this to all of you and any man here who takes exception to this speak now, and we will end this right now. There will be no smoker tonight

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or ever.” The silence which followed my announcement was nearly as loud as the Wagon Noise had been to me years before. I could see the wheels spinning in their minds as I stood there, thirty-five pounds of canine resolution. But as I expected the bets that had been placed along with the raw anticipation of what was to come won out. As a unit, like one gigantic beast they came to their feet and there was such a roar of approval that I heard later even the Captain was seen to peek out his porthole to peer through a drunken stupor to see what was happening. Then I completely let them see my intentions as I said in a low voice, ”The winner of tonight’s smoker will be my second in command.”

Once again there was a deafening silence as it sank in to them what was at stake. These men for the most part had led lives of “quiet desperation”, never having an opportunity to improve their position in life and as much as it went against my nature to do so I was dangling just such an opportunity. The man who attained victory here this evening would lead a changed life, he would command respect to a degree to which he had never before. He would receive greater compensation in the form of income and be in a position of command. He would wear a smarter uniform along with his promotion to deck officer. After a few moments during which I let this sink into their minds I said, ”The first responsibility of this man will be to get something done about the appearance of this ship. Without exception every man here tonight will turn to and lend a hand in the effort to get this ship squared away until she is the brightest and sharpest ship in the fleet. Any man who does not will sleep forever with the fish and the rest of you will work harder to make up for his absence. Agreed?”

Well, it seemed to me, as I stood there, afraid that they

might laugh me out of the ring that something happened. I - 46 -

watched as they looked from one to another that they began to see the possibilities. Not only were they realizing that one among them would here tonight gain unexpected good fortune. They became aware that there was the possibility that they might all gain. For the first time since they had been stationed aboard this joke called the D'Limper they could see the realization that they could be proud of their ship, the one thing that every man in the Navy wanted more than anything else. To be proud of his ship. I watched as they began to realize the possibility. And as I stood there I saw tears in the eyes of many, I saw the beginnings of pride born in other eyes and I realized I had them. I felt the first sensations of power over them and I liked it. I liked it not because I wanted the power itself though I would need it. I enjoyed it because I could see in that sea of faces surrounding me the beginnings of hope. Hope that there was something happening here and now that would change us. Something that would bring us together and form us into something greater than any of them had ever dared to hope for. That we would become once, and for all time, the Crew of the USS Deliver, a ship that could stack up with any other ship in history. If we would only do it, and for having done it, be finally in control of our own destiny.

They began to cheer and I saw men dance with each other with complete abandon, embracing each other as they embraced the new life we were all about to embark upon. And as one they shouted “AGREED”

There was no smoker that night. There was never another hand raised against another on that ship. All of the bets were called off and I allowed them to select the man best fitted for the job to be advanced through the ranks to be my second in command. Not because he was biggest or strongest or the best fighter, but because he was the most qualified and they all

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wanted that. So that the deliver could become the best she could be.

Three months later she was exactly that and I had a crew that was more shipshape than I could have hoped for. We received a visit from the Admiral then. He was so impressed the Captain was taken off in irons, still drunk. I was promoted to the rank of Captain and I was truly in command of my own ship for the first time, but more importantly I was in command of her crew. A crew which was to become in the next two years the shiniest brass earring of the fleet. For now we hadn’t even been to sea together yet. As a matter of fact I had never even untied the Deliver from the dock. And the things that happened to us once we did set sail made us all grateful that we had managed to shape up as we had. I realized some things that I could never have expected as I stood there in the center of that boxing ring showered with love and respect from fifty or so men. This unruly crew had been waiting for me, as much as I had been waiting for them, so that we could take our place in the annals of naval history. For the Admiral was no fool. He had not been trying to improve the condition of the Deliver and her crew so that we could sit at the dock and look pretty.

By the time I finally left the USS Deliver she was in worse shape than ever. More than half her crew would be sleeping with the fishes in the eternal sleep reserved for naval heroes and I would realize more than ever, how many humans need desperately to "get a dog and treat him well".

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CHAPTER Nine Into the Eye of the Storm

The very next day after the Admirals inspection I received my sailing orders for the USS Deliver. We were to steam directly to a specified fuel buoy north of the demarcation zone. There we were instructed to anchor near a fuel buoy and await further orders.

When we left the Philippines we had a following wind and the currents were favorable so for the first half of the trip we made very good time. Then we ran into my first storm at

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sea and I came to know the true meaning of that phrase. A storm at sea is so different than even that same storm would be on land as to be virtually unrecognizable. With no obstructions like trees, mountains and other topographical impedance a storm at sea has complete free reign in the area it gathers strength. Add to this the ability of the storm to actually create mountains out of water and you begin to recognize the power a storm at sea has over the tiny speck of metal we were aboard. Our ship was as stout as any other so I had been lulled into a false sense of security as we left port. Naturally I had been proud of her as we steamed past the other ships while leaving Subic Bay. She gleamed in the sun with her brass polished to the highest degree possible, drawing appreciative stares from all whom saw her as we passed the other ships in the harbor. My crew were flanking her in full dress White Tropical Uniforms and I’m sure we made an impressive sight smoothly gliding along, our flags gently waving in the apparent breeze we created. I had been through enough to know that I was very inexperienced. But truly had no idea the degree to which I was to be hampered by my rapid advancement to command.

The weather began to pick up on the fourth day just as I was beginning to develop a feel for her handling characteristics. I was in my stateroom relaxing with a letter from the First Mate I had already read a hundred times at least, her words soothing me and only requiring a little imagination to accomplish the desired effect of having her near.

There was the gentle knock on the door that was characteristic of the Quartermaster and I granted permission to enter. He came in and reported that the radar had picked up some rough weather ahead of us. I thanked him and after he left I held the letter I had been reading and gently folded the

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dog-eared pages, carefully returning it to the stack of others from her and my Skipper. With a large sigh of longing I rose from my chair placing my new Captains hat squarely on my head.

As I was making my way up the short ladder to the bridge I felt the first gentle rocking of the ship, signifying that we were indeed headed into something. As I arrived on the bridge I felt a small thrill when the first man who saw me shouted loudly, ”The Captain is on the bridge.” I said not quite as loudly “carry on” and all hands returned to their duties. This is a small bit of courtesy afforded the Captain of any naval vessel and actually has a practical reason. If the Captain has any reason to need the attention of anyone (or everyone) this procedure facilitates such an action. Also it serves as a warning to the sailors on the bridge to keep looking sharp, something that is hard to do for a solid four-hour watch. Also, it is usually the case that if the Captain is on the bridge it is for a very good and specific reason. There it is just a slight increase in alertness which is practical to let everyone on the bridge know that an increased degree of attention is required, simply because the Captain is there. But the first few times it is certainly a thrill to any new Captain and I was no exception.

The sense of elation was short lived this time as I saw the darkening skies dead ahead of us. The waves were beginning to rise and our small ship was already starting to pitch up and down when I approached the radar to find a large green mass on the screen dead ahead and wrapping around on either side. I felt the first few pangs of apprehension then and looked around at the faces of the crewmembers present. The helmsman looked sort of pale and I took the bosunsmate of the watch aside and ordered him to replace the helmsman with his best man as soon as possible. Then I walked around the bridge trying to look as though I had been through this sort of thing

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hundreds of times and fooled no one. Actually I was trying to size up the others to be sure every one was in good shape to help me through the first storm of this magnitude I had ever seen, let alone been responsible to command a vessel through.

I went out on the flying bridge to feel the fresh air and hope I could calm my racing heart. Standing alone out there I was struck with the loneliness every Captain has felt in similar circumstances. All hands were depending on me to know our best course of action and here I was with less experience than most of them. But theirs had been the experience of men who had a Captain to look to and I was the only one aboard that had the experience of command, even though it had only been for a few months. That’s when I understood fully the function of command at sea. The responsibility of decision. Men who had been at sea for years surrounded me and they didn’t know it but they had it in them to know what various options we had available to us. I made a decision once again to give them what they needed. And in return, I rationalized they would give me what I needed.

Then I did what came natural to me. Alone, outside on the flying bridge, I barked at that storm in the most ferocious manner I could muster. I growled and snarled at that fast approaching bank of black clouds with anger that quickly crossed the threshold from pretense to reality with a fury that I conjured up from deep within me. I railed at it as I thought about all the ships and sailors that had ever been lost at sea, never to see their homeport again. Instead they had been sent to the bottom of the sea. To a watery grave so lost that their loved ones had not known where to grieve except at the shore by their homes so very far from the actual place of the tragedy. I continued to vent my loneliness and anger upon that solid wall of black water that confronted us without even knowing or caring that we were there. I conjured up visions of

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the 'Man in Black' and what he had done to my companions and me.

As I did this I saw the looks of amazement on the men who were inside the wheelhouse, but I did not relent. I kept at it and gave no quarter to that water as it began to fall on my face. I screamed into the face of the storm and made it know that we were there, that we were to be reckoned with and would not back down. I stuck my head into the wheel house and as calmly as I could with the adrenaline racing through my veins I ordered, “helmsman, hold your course. All engines ahead full” then I went back to work on the storm. As I barked and growled I thought about the courage my men were showing inside the wheelhouse. They must have thought their Captain had gone mad. And they would not have been to far wrong either, by then I had worked myself into such a fervor that I was frothing at the mouth. And as I continued to let fly with every thing I had in me I began to see a light dead ahead the sun was just starting to show its glint on the water we were steaming towards.

I went back into the wheelhouse then and shaking the water off my coat I looked into the eyes of each man there. I saw that they were looking at me with a completely amazed expression. I went over to the engine order telegraph and rang up all engines ahead normal, telling the helmsman to check with the Quartermaster for his heading. Then I went below to my stateroom and after a nice hot shower slept for a few hours.

When I awoke several hours later I found out from the ships cook as he brought me my meal that I had become something of a magician in the eyes of my crew. Sailors being a superstitious lot, they had decided that I had indeed caused the storm to back down from us. And now, he told me, they were ready to follow me to the ends of the earth. Funny bunch,

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these sailors who I found myself with out here in the middle of nowhere with. But who knows, maybe I had turned the energy of that storm back on itself. Maybe I had prevailed. If you the reader have a dog, or if you know a dog in your neighborhood, ask him. See if he will tell you about how the mailman always turns and goes to bother the people next door when he is barked at. Perhaps there is a dog in your life who knows that every month the electric meter reader can be sent on his way after a particular vicious barking session. These dogs believe they are protecting their humans from murderers and will do what seems to them to be working. I know that ever since I backed that storm down, when I am in a similar situation I will go out and give it a shot even though I have learned in the mean time more conventional ways to deal with the problem of a storm at sea.

In such circumstances dogs will resort to anything if they believe it just might work. And even when humans are desperate, I have seen some pretty odd behavior.

I believe what my Skipper taught me about such things. He told me that prayer could take many forms. There is of course the traditional prayer in which we are asking God for something like forgiveness or understanding. My backing down the storm represents one of the other forms. I believe that God created that storm for me to test the strength of my resolve. He also created my resolve and knew that I would be a stronger leader if I lived up to his test. He knew that I would very soon be faced with problems that could only be surmounted if I had the faith of my crew behind me. I have called their faith superstition here but I do believe that they needed to have faith in me. And I needed to believe in them, too. I did and they would not let me down in the days that would come. As I have warned you I did let some of them down though.

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CHAPTER Ten Fuel Buoy 735

We kept on our course to the demarcation zone and the rest of the trip was quite pleasant for me. I was still young enough to believe I deserved the adoration of my crew after the storm I had sent packing so I was quite comfortable in my new role as semi god. That is what proved to be my greatest downfall. I had attained very rapid advancement, achieved unprecedented accomplishments and now I had even done the impossible.

My crew obviously worshipped me and I could do no wrong in their eyes. I basked in the glory I was sure I richly deserved as we steamed north deep into the demarcation zone and finally reached the fuel buoy # 735. We dropped anchor about two miles off from it and there we sat.

I had been instructed to observe radio silence while on station so we were totally unaware of our purpose for being here. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and still we sat there, waiting for orders.

Anchored. The monotony became unbearable. At first I spent the time studying. But before long I had mastered all of the printed material I had aboard. I began to wander the ship learning as much as I could about her, from the anchor lockers to the fantail and everyplace in between. I kept the crew busy studying for advancement in their respective ratings and crossover training so that we could replace an injured or missing man. They all did very well in this respect and my pride in them increased in leaps and bounds. And to their

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credit I have to say they never let the boredom get them down.

In the evenings they would play poker and when the best players had all the money they redistributed the funds so that play could continue. I could not let them keep books for it would certainly have resulted in problems. The same players always ended up with the money time after time. They did refund the money to the less adept players and I never heard of any secret books being kept. I’m sure I would have for their loyalty to me never waned through all the time I had them with me. This also was to their credit and not mine for I am sure that no Captain has ever had a finer crew than those fifty some odd men. It was obvious that they were intent on being great to the same degree they had been terrible and they, to a man, succeeded, and very much so.

It was ironic the way our boredom was ended though. Ironic especially because it happened to be on my birthday, Oct 19th. The morning was normal and everything seemed to be just as it had been for months. By late afternoon we were in such a state of turmoil it was a miracle any of us survived.

I am ashamed to say, although I must be honest about this, I had been playing poker below decks with the men. Even though it had no direct bearing on what happened that is how it began so I must relay it here.

I had learned to play the game with my Skipper. He had taught me well and I did all right for the very few days I played before my birthday. Of course I had not let any of the crew know it was my birthday, for it would have been a breach of regulations for us to be that familiar. It was bad enough that I was playing poker with the crew but I had justified this as a way to help keep moral up. The problem was that it was my

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moral I was really keeping up not theirs. They seemed to enjoy it though because they liked me I could tell and none of them had ever played the game with a dog before. Some said they had seen paintings of dogs playing poker though and I certainly enjoyed their company. Some of them claimed they could tell when I was bluffing by the way I held my ears. I started putting on my hat whenever I was bluffing so they couldn’t see my ears. They got a kick out of this but it was just for fun so it didn’t matter. What did matter though was the irony of my using my hat, the very symbol of my authority and responsibility to entertain them instead of wearing it where I belonged up on the bridge or in my stateroom.

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CHAPTER TenSailors Deadman’s Hand

The cards had just been passed out and I was squeezing them out to see what I had been dealt. I had aces and eights, two pair, with the jack of diamonds.

This is called the “dead mans hand” because it is what Wild Bill Hickok had in his hand when he was shot dead by Jack McCall, who had lost a hand of poker to Wild Bill earlier that day, August 2, 1876. Wild Bill usually sat with his back to the wall, but even though he had requested that chair from Charles Rich, a gunfighter also, Rich just laughed and remained seated. Hickok made the fatal mistake of joining the game anyway.

They were in Saloon #10 in Deadwood, South Dakota, my home town. Jack McCall, who used several different aliases, was a local bum who did menial work around the town and was by no means a gunslinger. No one seemed to pay attention as he ambled to a position behind Wild Bill. Suddenly he drew a large 45-caliber pistol from beneath his shirt and shot the legendary dandy in the back of the head from about three feet away. Wild Bill was dead before he dropped those infamous cards, the black aces of spades and clubs, the eights also of

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those two suits. There has always been disagreement about what the fifth card was but it is generally accepted that it was a diamond or a heart, a red card. Red as the satin sash around Wild Bills waist in which he carried two now useless Navy Colts, the white ivory handles pointing forward for the fancy “twist” draw. Red as the blood that now ran from Hickok’s head onto the floor next to the cards.

An illegal miners court subsequently found McCall not guilty. He was retried in a legitimate court and eventually was hung, for what was arguably one of the most cowardly acts ever in the history of the game of poker, on March 1st, 1877.

I learned later that the fifth card in wild bills hand was the jack of diamonds. This is on good authority from a relative of mine who lives in South Dakota and says that the information has been passed down through our family from a dog that was there, an ancestor of mine. I have never been lied to from a family member in my life so I believe this story of the fifth card is true and should settle, once and for all, the mystery of the fifth card. My ancestor had dived under the table to try and assist Wild Bill and once there, had a good view of the last cards Wild Bill ever held. James Butler Hickok was certainly no saint, but the courage and adventurous spirit displayed in his life deserved a better end. The day before his death, he had written to his wife, Agnes, the following words:

“ Agnes darling, If such should be that we never meet again, while firing my last shot, I will gently breathe the name of my wife Agnes and with wishes even for my enemies I will make the plunge and try to swim to the other shore. J.B. Hickok, Wild Bill.”

It could be said that he never fired that last shot. It could be that he is still gently breathing her name on that other shore.

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Several months after his death Agnes wrote: “ I can see him night and day before me, the longer

he is dead, the worse I feel. “ The bartender at the Saloon #10 said that “ A more

picturesque sight than Hickok on horseback could not be imagined.” I will leave the reader now with that mental image, Wild Bill on horseback, galloping back to Agnes, each stride of the horse causing him to gently breathe her name and his heart full of anticipation for the retirement they never enjoyed. Jack McCall had a dog, my ancestor, but he never did learn to” treat him well”.

I was a little disconcerted to see what poker hand I had drawn but was just about to make some joke about it when we were all frozen in place by the sounding of general quarters. The alarm that sounds for this condition was chosen by the Navy carefully and is very effective in communicating the urgency of the situation. It is followed immediately by the boatsunmate of the watch trying not to shout as he makes the announcement over the ships loudspeaker system, ”Now, general quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations. This is not a drill, all hands man your battle stations, general quarters”. My eyes locked on the eyes of the man sitting across from me and unthinkingly I dropped my cards face up on the table. As I looked around the table in those few moments that seemed to drag by I saw that everyone at the table was looking in horror at my aces and eights. What had seemed just a minute ago to be just the stuff of a small joke now had all the ominous threat of a death warrant. We all jumped up and were off like a shot, everyone knowing where on the ship his battle station was thanks to the countless times we had been through this in the form of drills. We had been through this drill so many times that I had used a stop watch to time this drill and knew that everyone would be at his battle

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station within eighty seconds. As I climbed the ladder to the bridge I was afraid I would be last to arrive on station, since during the drills before I had always been in my stateroom, right below the bridge, when the general quarters drill was sounded.

This unreasonable fear was promptly forgotten as in my peripheral vision I registered movement, and turning my head just in time, as I continued to climb I saw the large splash of a three inch round of ammunition just a few yards off the port side of the ship.

To acquaint to reader with the full impact what was happening let me give a few gunnery facts. Most people are familiar with the 45-caliber handgun. The rounds from this gun, which is considered very large in terms of a handgun, measure about half an inch in diameter and weighs about an ounce. The rounds that were being fired at us were three inches in diameter and weigh about twenty pounds. If one should hit us it could very easily be catastrophic. It is not uncommon for one well placed three inch to sink a larger ship than ours. In our case the shot would not even have to be well placed. If it would hit the bridge it would probably kill all hands there and at the very least would render the ship helpless to maneuver and thus a sitting duck for more target practice. The round I saw was so close to the bridge that it was obvious the target had indeed been the bridge and I was not even there yet. Two more near misses splashed down before I got there.

As I arrived on the bridge I was relieved to see that the men there had gone against regulation and already had the ship underway. All engines were back full and the rudder was right full, an excellent maneuver because our enemy was undoubtedly expecting us to run at full ahead and were anticipating our movement in that direction. The next few rounds splashed down well clear of the bow, proving the

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brilliance of the maneuver one of my men had executed to remove us from danger, for those first few critical minutes. I never knew which of the men had been responsible for this because within less than a minute the enemy had tracked our movement and all the men on the bridge were dead. The round had landed squarely on the side of the wheelhouse and the explosion it caused blew up the bridge. I was the only thing left alive on the bridge because I had arrived late and all I could think of was that I had finally done it, I had made a mistake that was the worst I could possibly make and now it was too late, too late, too late, too late…Captain, Captain, Captain Shadow you don’t want to be too late, too late,

“Captain the crew will be disappointed if you are late for your birthday party, Captain wake up.”

As I regained full consciousness I realized I had been dreaming. A nightmare in which I had drawn aces and eight’s. I realized I must disappoint my crew for I new then that their very lives depended on my remaining apart from them in any social context. After I cleaned up I went to the galley and allowed them to sing the birthday song to me. Then I told them that as their Capt. it would not be appropriate for me to join them but that I must take my cake back to my stateroom and I would savor every bite alone. One of the crew rose then and requested permission for the crew to give me a gift.

I new this would be harmless so I allowed it and as I write these words I am sitting on the bow of Featherfin and glancing over to the front of her mast where my Skipper has mounted that brass ships bell they gave me so long ago. The inscription reads ”To Captain Shadow, from the crew of the USS Deliver with love and respect we shall follow you into the eye of the storm.”

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CHAPTER ElevenTuffy and his Crew

Still anchored, we waited. Waited for orders to tell us our mission. Orders finally arrived in the form of a gunboat bringing supplies and the sealed envelope containing the much awaited purpose of our presence there. We were instructed to tie up to the fuel buoy and send our divers down to make repairs to the fuel tanks submerged below.

These fuel tanks were used by the gunboats to replenish their fuel. The buoy was just about a half mile offshore. On shore was deep into enemy territory so it became apparent to me the reason for our wait had been for intelligence to feel confident we would not be seen from shore.

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Since we must continue to observe radio silence I would have no way of knowing how large the window of opportunity to perform our task would be ,or indeed when that window would close. If we remained too long not only would we be in danger, but the location of the fuel tanks would be discovered by the enemy.

I sent the divers down immediately and they returned to the ship an hour later with bad news. The hose leading down from the buoy to the tanks was damaged and would require replacement. We had no replacement aboard. The problem seemed to be unsolvable until one of the crew suggested the use of trained dolphins to relay the message to the oiler that we knew was in an area about thirty miles south.

The Navy had recently begun testing the viability of using dolphins for underwater naval operations with much success. The crew member who suggested this said that he knew the frequency of sonar which would bring trained dolphins to us from within a one hundred mile radius.

We then began to broadcast this frequency into the sea and waited impatiently to see if the dolphins would arrive. We saw some activity on shore and knew that time was of the essence. Finally, we heard the knocking on the hull from below that signaled our bottlenose friends had arrived.

The leader of this group of dolphins was named Tuffy and the reader can learn more about his adventures by entering “Tuffy Navy” on the World Wide Web. He assured us that his crew could make the trip to the oiler which had the necessary hose in an expedient manner. He said he would remain with us to keep a watch for enemy divers or submarines. I issued the necessary request chit to the oiler in triplicate as per regulations and we tucked it neatly in a canister which was attached to one of the dolphins. The

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dolphins left then and I began the longest seventeen hours of my life.

It turned out that we were very lucky Tuffy had remained with us because he did waylay some enemy divers who tried to approach us. I had no idea why we were not fired upon from the shore since they obviously knew we were there. Now it would be necessary to relocate the empty fuel tanks below us undercover of darkness before Tuffy’s crew returned.

After dark we did relocate the tanks and it was very spooky performing this operation without lights of any kind. The timing was perfect though as Tuffy’s crew returned just as we finished. The new hose was installed and just as we were preparing to weigh anchor and leave the area the radio of the USS Deliver began to blare a message from friendly helicopters above that our location was known by the enemy. We, at this point, had to trust to luck that the enemy would not then know the new location of the tanks. I never knew if they did, but I did know I was not dreaming this time as the three inchers began to drop in the water all around us. We maneuvered as best we could to avoid being hit, but did take one shot which hit the rudder and the rest of our escape I managed to steer the ship with her engines. A few of Tuffy’s crew were lost and the Navy has erected a wall on shore in that area to commendate them.

As we steamed south into friendly waters we were proud to have accomplished our mission. Our jubilation ended in a flash as we realized we had left one of our divers behind. Unsure what to do I desperately broadcast the sonar signal once again to Tuffy. He and his remaining crew returned to the scene and executed a marvelous rescue of our diver. I cannot stress too much the appreciation I feel for these mammals of the deep who are no doubt man’s second best friend. In my retirement I met up again with Tuffy in Point

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Magu, California, and we only slightly embellished our stories to the avid fans he was entertaining. Stories such as these attract embellishment, I think, because the teller of them is trying so very hard to communicate the excitement and adventure the real event makes one feel.

CHAPTER TwelveLost At Sea

With the remaining crew I had with me and only one engine, no rudder and extreme fatigue we all felt we must have been lost for a few days because it was difficult to take a position or plot a course under such conditions.

Somehow we ended up near a small group of Islands and late at night I was up on the flying bridge alone, when I fell

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overboard. I should not have been alone. But I was and I assume my crew didn’t miss me until the following morning.

I was subsequently rescued by the US Navy and returned home, the war having been lost while I was lost.

And when I returned it all came full circle for me. I realized that I had gone and fought a war and that I had thought as I left that I was doing so to protect our freedoms. As it turned out that war was not about freedom but for me and my Skipper and the First Mate it had been. That was enough for me. And even though I saw things which still give me nightmares. Even though I did things of which I have never been proud. Even though I endured discomfort and misery beyond my ability to tell about, I knew when I returned, when I saw the look of pride in my Skippers eyes and was held closer than ever by the First Mate that I would need no parades, no Medals of Honor or Bravery but instead I would always know, as would the people who matter to me, that I had earned my place at the dinette.

I know now that my Skipper was fooled by men far worse than the bad men we both thought at the time I was going to fight. Worse because in order to get me to go they had directly and indirectly dishonored the men who had fought against real evil in the second world war. Men who had lost their lives on a far away beach never to see their families again. For this deception and lack of respect for those who have truly lost everything my Skipper and I can never for forgive them. The worst part is that we will never even know who they were, for they have hidden themselves among those who, like my Skipper were fooled. But now that I have returned home, it is not the time for bitterness. I did receive a full education in the ways of the sea while I was gone as well as a political awakening. And now I am home. Now I can

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appreciate a sunrise a little better than before, my food tastes better now. But there is a nagging guilt in knowing that at least partly it is so because of those who didn’t come home. My Skipper and I have talked about this and he says it is just one of the things in life we cant understand. That some of my littermates didn’t make it ,but I did and the same with my shipmates who were killed. He says we just have to accept the way it is that some live and some don’t, and while I respect my Skipper and love him very much I have learned that he can be wrong. So it is left to me, a 35-pound dog with soft fur and a perfectly tapering snout to remind you the reader …… If every person in the world would get a dog and learn to make him happy there would be no bad people, and there would be no dogs left on the side of the road and there would be no souls left on distant beaches.

CHAPTER (LAST)

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So, now you know my story. Well, most of it. These days I spend lazily sailing around the bay with my Skipper and First Mate. Sometimes when we feel up to it we make the crossing to Santa Catalina, a beautiful little island just a few hours away. It is like the rest of the world should be, I think, for they don’t allow cars or trucks there. As we relax to watch a sunset the farthest things from my mind are such things as Wagon Noises or distant beaches. I have done the best I could to relate to you what is necessary to make the world a better place. Some will certainly say that my solution is just too simplistic. They are probably right. But it’s just a dream. A dream I often have as I lay across her lap and watch through slightly raised eyelids as he raises the sail so that we may once again feel the hand of God.

CAPTAIN SHADOW

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