BT3 John Crego

We were going through the Panama Canal. Or was it the Suez? Well, it was one or the other. I was up on deck watching the goings on, though I probably should have been down in the Hole scrubbing deck plates, or more importantly, dusting steam lines. The point is, we had slowed to a crawl for navigation purposes I suppose. Needless to say, this creeping along gave the local entrepreneurs a chance to sell some of their wares.

I remember this one particular salesman because he had come out in his dingy and tied up to the ship and was taking care of business. Well, eventually we reached a point where we had to speed up and be on our way. A couple of Bowsins mates started to untie his line, but he would have none of it. He just kept yelling, NO, NO. He was bound and determined to make that last sale come Hell or high water. Now, we were starting to gain a little speed at this point and these guys were trying to set him free but he still kept yelling NO. His boat started slapping the water pretty good and the Bowsins mates new they had to turn this guy loose or he’d get killed. The funny thing to me was that even with that, he still didn’t want them to untie him. And when they finally tossed him his line, all he could do was yell back at them, “Sons of Bitches, Sons of Bitches!” as he faded off in the distance bobbing around in our rapidly growing wake.

Well, that’s it. Maybe there’s someone out there who witnessed this and can verify it or say I’m full of crap and it didn’t happen that way at all.

‘Now sweepers, sweepers, man your brooms!’