We were the smallest tug in the Crowliss fleet, but we were all they had available. On the plus side, our hull had recently been cleaned and both engines were running perfectly. We dropped the tow at the brickworks and headed upbay with the engines screaming and the throttles jammed against the stops. Those poor old "Jimmies" were screeching in protest and I watched nervously as the thermocouple indicators on the exhaust manifolds were creeping towards their redlines.
The two engines were connected through a bull gear to the single propeller shaft and were direct reversing with compressed air start.
I could hear Capt. Goodall leaning on the air horn, sounding the emergency alarm as we raced across the busy bay. Other bay traffic would be scattering to give up right of way.
We could feel the motion of the tug change as we crossed Banana Reef, the bar just beyond the "Gate".
The Farallon Islands were rocks sticking up out of the sea about twenty-five miles outside the Golden Gate. There was nothing on them except an automatic light, sea gulls and seals.
I don't know what went on topside, Mr. Demming kept me busy nursing the antique air compressor that supplied starting air for the engines. In order to reverse the propeller, the engines had to be stopped and the timing changed by an air cylinder and a roller cam, then restarted. That was all controlled by the console in the wheelhouse. If that air compressor ever tripped out, we would have been DIW - "Dead in the Water"!
The one time the motor on the air compressor tripped, I was able to hit the start button right away and it took off again.
We could feel the Skipper maneuvering the Percy around, he "backed down" several times before he stopped both engines and dumped the clutches. The clutches were oil couplings, much like the torque converter in an automobile automatic transmission.
Shortly before the engines were restarted, Mr. Demming told me that once we started the tow, the seas would be so rough between the rocks and the Gate, if we lost the engines, we would be swimming home.
I heard the clutches fill and the air start valve opened. The engines "huffed" a couple of times and then caught with a roar as the Mate brought the engines up to maximum power.
The Percy took up the strain and bounced and squirmed until the Benson and its tow began to move. Everything in the engine room was groaning and rattling. I watched, kinda wild eyed, as the engine exhaust temperatures started climbing towards the red line marked on the pyrometers again. The needle hovered right on the redlines for several minutes, I was about to call the Chief, Mr. Demming, when I heard the engines back off a bit and slowly, the pyrometer readings began to fall on both engines.
It was 3 AM before we finally got the Benson and its tow back to Crowliss Pier. I took a quick shower and hit my bunk. For all excitement of my very first "rescue", I felt drained and could hardly keep my eyes open long enough to climb into my bunk.
A word about that shower, there was but one shower and one head (toilet) for the entire crew, the shower was so small, if you dropped the soap, the only way to retrieve it was step out of the shower and bend over!
For once, Billy didn't go ashore, he jumped in the shower just as I was getting out. I was asleep before he got in his own bunk and neither of us heard a thing until the Mate, Mr. Watters pounded on our door.
The next day was our day off, the company had a couple of washing machines and dryers in a small building on the pier for the tug crews to use and both Billy and I spent the morning doing our laundry. I was going have to spring for some more underwear, everything I had was dirty.
I had gotten paid that morning and there was a Bank of America not too far up the street from our pier. I agreed to meet Billy at a little diner he knew about for supper. They weren't too fussy about ID's, and we had a couple of beers before returning to the Percy.
The days turned into weeks and suddenly my probation period was up, I was now a permanent employee of Crowliss Marine!
Besides getting a pay increase, the Chief handed me a booklet and told me to start studying. It was all the information I would need to pass the Coast Guard Examination for Fireman/Oiler.
Crowliss got the contract to haul concrete for the new flood walls along the river as it flowed through Sacramento and we were assigned to hauling duty for the duration. The river flow is at its lowest during late fall and early winter, so construction was going all out to get the flood walls in before the spring melt in the High Sierras.
We spent four months hauling concrete from the Kaiser-Permanente Plant to the worksite. Everything, including ourselves, was coated with gray cement powder.
Even my toothbrush tasted gritty!
We would make four round trips each day, we were working our days off at overtime, so my bank account was rising fast, but I would have given most anything to have a day away from those howling engines!
Try as I might, I could not keep the decks in the engine room free of cement powder. Fortunately, the Chief understood, and as long as there were no piles of dirt or cement powder, he said little about the situation. Before long, everything felt and tasted of cement, our skivvies (underwear) were gritty and our feet were coated with partially hardened cement.
Billy was beginning to look a little haggard, as deck hand, he was responsible for making up the tows and the only way he could do that was to leap from the stern counter of the Percy to the barge, and then to the next several barges that comprised our tow. He would occasionally slip and have to climb back on board, dripping river water at every step.
By the time the contract ended, Billy had lost about twenty pounds and there were dark circles around his eyes, he looked like a bandit!
I had six months and a bit more on my Wiper ticket, so I got my papers signed by the Skipper and the Chief and on my day off, I took the street car over to the Coast Guard Headquarters and applied to take the test for Fireman/Oiler.
They scheduled me for the next week, fortunately, it was my day off, so I wouldn't miss any time. The Chief grilled me on all the questions he could think of that might be on the test before he said that I was ready.
I was worried about it though and I don't think I slept a wink the night before. I was an hour early to take the test and an old First Class Petty Officer took pity on me. He showed me where the coffee pot was and handed a clean cup.
By the time they called the test, my nerves were only half-shot!
I needn't have worried, the test was only fifty questions and I swear every question was one Chief Demming had grilled me on. They scored the test right there while I stood there and the clerk typed out new documents for me. He had them sealed in plastic while I waited and I was on my way, a rated Fireman/Oiler!
That night, the Chief and Joe Martinez took me out for a steak and a few beers. I must have looked older because the waiter didn't even question me about my age.
I was not yet 19 and the drinking age in California was 21.
We sailed the next morning for Vallejo where the Navy had a tow of junk parts and scrap to go to US Steel at Pittsburg. The tow was unwieldy, the Navy had just dumped the stuff on the barges and they tracked like wild steers! We could feel them charging and tugging even in the engine room. Those barges worked poor Billy near to death, his hands were ragged and bleeding and he was soaked wet from being dumped in the bay.
I had to wait for a Fireman/Oiler opening before I could sail on my ticket, but I was ready when an opening came along.