“Monique was the most unlikely girl to be tending bar at a place like the French Hotel in Monrovia. She was the girl guys would ask, “What’s a sweet girl like you doing in a place like this?” I, like everyone else, liked Monique and always chatted her up. Monique loved the attention and had a heavy hand with the bottles. The later into the evening it got, the more she poured. In Liberia there were no laws holding a bartender responsible for the inebriated actions of their patrons and she was just being friendly. What’s more is that all the expats kept returning. Monique was a dark haired beauty. Slight of stature, she had a pleasant demeanor and a cute French accent. Having some difficulty with English, she would listen intently and try to repeat what was said. Her mannerisms were a delight to watch as she tended bar. For the men, in this hot forsaken place, Monique was a breath of fresh air and an attentive young female to talk to. Her French perfume was a most pleasant contrast to the foul odors that normally filled the air in Monrovia. I liked Monique, didn’t everyone? She was a hot French mademoiselle and looked the part with her cute slightly turned up nose, brown eyes and dark brown hair. In fact she looked very much like Leslie Caron. No one took photos like they do today, so just to give you an idea of how she looked, I was tempted to use a publicity photo of Leslie. However with copyright laws being what they are, I prudently resisted that idea. Although Monique always flirted with me, it was always in a cute or perhaps an innocent way. Without the little encouragement, which I hoped for, I was starting to think of her more like a sister. No, that wasn’t quite it. Although she was always flirtatious and cutesy, the truth was that she just wasn’t available to me and I didn’t know why.” AfricaBeautiful GirlLiberiaMma Captain Hank BrackerMonrovia Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
“In 1955 flying was much more dangerous than it is now, but there was a party atmosphere aboard long flights and everyone enjoyed the ever-flowing drinks and food. Smoking was the norm and it didn’t take long before the cabin was full of smoke. The stewardesses were friendly and I can remember some that were very friendly. I don’t remember much about my time in Lisbon because, before I knew it, we were in the air again heading south across the ocean to the vastness of the North African desert. The light yellow sand under us in Morocco and the Spanish Sahara was endless. The fine sand went from the barren coastal surf and endless miles of beautiful beaches, inland as far as the eye could see. After a time I saw what I believed, at the time, to be a radio relay station located out on a desolate sand spit near Villa Bens. It was only later that I found out that it was Castelo de Tarfaya, a small fortification on the North African coast. Tarfaya was occupied by the British in 1882, when they established a trading post called Casa del Mar. This forgotten part of the world is now in the southern part of Morocco.” Mma Captain Hank BrackerAfrica MoroccoThe Sahara Desert Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
“There were times when I had to face problems that were of a tribal nature and unless I could solve them instantly they would fester and eventually lead to unexpected consequences or perhaps even my death. I encountered this sort of situation with my steward Henry Roland Cavalla. At the time he had a financial problem at home because of gambling and asked for a raise in pay, which I was not authorized to give. To do so would cause problems with the other crew members who could all justify a pay raise for one reason or another. It must have been the umpteenth time that he Henry had approached me with this request and as usual I turned him down with an explanation as to why. At times I would give him a few extra dollars out of my pocket but this time I reacted with a curt “No! I told you how it works countless times!” Although this time was no different than the other times Henry reacted violently. Lunging forward he bit me through my shirt with teeth that had been sharpened with a file. Fortunately my Bosun Togar was there and jumped into the fray. Holding Henry at bay I went to my head (bathroom) and after pouring 90% pure alcohol on the wound, covered it with a towel and a new shirt. When I reappeared it was as if nothing had happened. Sitting down at my desk I proceeded to read the regulations by which I could fire him and even turn him over to the police…. Crying he begged for forgiveness, telling me how financially strapped he was and how much he needed this job. Togar even added that he knew how much Henry needed the job and that he had never had a problem with me and could I give him another chance. In the end I suspended Henry for a month telling him and to go back to his village and straighten things out. He never knew how severe my wound was but it did heal, however I carried a very visable scar for years.” ScarsSea StoriesMma Captain Hank BrackerLabor LawsLiberian History Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
“As the captain of a ship in West Africa I was lord and master. Of course this left the door open for a lot of shenanigans, some of which I describe in my book "Seawater Two." It was an exciting adventure!” ShipsAfricaSea StoriesLiberiaMma Captain Hank Bracker Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
“Seawater Two - Adventures in West Africa is part of a series of books illustrating the life and times of Captain Hank Bracker. Seawater Two follows his adventures as a young Ship's Captain and Harbor Pilot in Liberia, West Africa. This book takes the reader for a boat ride along the dangerous coast of Africa and into the interior by river, during the post WWII years. Being a no holds barred book it describes the environment, culture and personal encounters with the people of Liberia. It's not the kind of book you would want to put down until you have savored every page.” ShipsAfricaSea StoriesLiberiaMma Captain Hank Bracker Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
“When I joined Farrell Lines I didn’t know that I would become part of a legend. The company had a reputation of looking after its own and it was understood that the employees would also be willing to go the extra mile when called upon to do so. As for the rest, the company didn’t try to micro manage. As the captain of one of their ships I was, kind of, the lord and master. Of course this left the door open for a lot of shenanigans, some of which I will describe throughout the book. All in all, it was an exciting adventure!” ShipsSea StoriesMma Captain Hank BrackerFarrell Lines Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
“In one corner of the large bar room I saw a pit filled with mud and a pig. I watched a buxom, mature woman as she rolled around in this soup, trying to catch a pig that seemed to be more elusive than expected. Squealing the pig escaped from the pit and ran for his life. Everyone joined in trying to catch the critter and eventually some guys did return him to the pit he called home. Picking him up with a mud covered towel the woman and her pig disappeared behind a curtain, only to be replaced by two other women who started wrestling each other. It was an expected typically crude performance that everyone seemed to enjoy. After finishing my overpriced beer I hightailed out of there and took the city rapid transit back to the ship.” PigsPigpenMma Captain Hank BrackerSeastoriesHamburg Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
“… I said, “Jimmy, tell the Captain that Maarten will most likely call crying about me.” Jimmy laughed and said, “He already did!” Back on the river, fighting a seven knot current we made slow headway upstream towards Harbel. First my First Mate Olaf was murdered, and now my Chief Engineer. In my gut I knew that Maarten was right about who killed Eddie, but what possessed Eddie to have sex with one of the tribal girls was beyond me. He must have known the consequences if he got caught; I just didn’t understand what got into Eddie. Messing around with tribal girls was bad enough, but once they have been promised to someone else by the chief, it spelled real trouble. Suddenly the thought came to me that Maarten may have been fooling around with the native girls as well. Was it Maarten? If so how could he have twisted the facts around so that Eddie would take the fall? No ready answer came to me, so I would have to let it go. Besides, Maarten was alive and had a family. Without proof I had nothing, other than a lingering doubt.” MurderMma Captain Hank BrackerSeastoriesTribal Girls Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
“BA Nubian Princess Zahra for a young man, Liberia was exciting, but it was also an outright dangerous place to be. It wasn’t only the dangerous situations that could present themselves, such as suddenly being confronted by gangs or petty criminals on the streets or along the roads between villages. There were also natural dangers that could run the gamut from snake bites to being attacked by wild animals. I constantly heard stories, told to me by my crew members, of friends, family and neighbors being seriously hurt or killed in the bush. When I was born in 1934 my life expectancy was 59.3 years. When I came to Liberia the average life expectancy in Liberia was 33.1 years. Now in the United States it is 78.5 years and in Liberia it is 62.9 years. Things have improved in both countries, but at my “advanced age” I consider myself very fortunate. Regardless of the severity of the obvious dangers in Liberia, the greatest danger is still what could come from not understanding the tribal rules based on long held traditions, which were both secular and religious in nature. Fooling around with the local women might be a nice way to spend an afternoon or evening but the ramifications could be costly, dangerous or even deadly! It wouldn’t even matter if the flirtation had been started by the girl, or let’s say woman, because Liberia’s women don’t remain girls very long. But, the memories of their families are long-lasting!” AfricaLiberiaMma Captain Hank Bracker Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
“Entering the city of Monrovia on Tubman Boulevard, the road suddenly became paved and a little smoother. Most of the other streets were made of sand and coated with used crankcase oil, making them extremely slick. I couldn’t believe the huge water-filled potholes everywhere; couldn’t they fill them in? A major problem was that there was no way of knowing how deep the holes were since they were full of water…. Jimmy had his hands full bouncing along in a car that didn’t seem to have shocks, and from the looks of the tires I don’t believe the front wheels had ever been aligned. Some of the streets went from being a rutted, muddy mess, to being exposed bed-rock with shale stone filling in the worst holes. Somehow Jimmy skillfully navigated these streets, at what I considered at the time, as being reckless speeds. We passed simple dwellings pieced together from flotsam, debris, and recycled planks or pieces of plywood, including what appeared to be random soft drink signs and the likes. It reminded me of some of the Mexican border towns I had been to. There were mangy dogs picking through the piles of garbage, without much hope of finding anything edible. The raw garbage, scattered on the streets, had obviously been picked through already by people or other feral beasts trying to live off the land. If the dogs and cats left anything behind, I could only imagine the rats getting it!” AfricaLiberiaMma Captain Hank BrackerMonrovia Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
“Olaf’s casket was carefully placed on canvas straps across the open grave, ready to be lowered with hand cranks. At the head stood the young minister who I felt certain, couldn’t wait until all of this was over. He mumbled a few unintelligible words that ended with “forever and ever, amen.” When he finished, I nodded to the two men to start lowering the casket on its final descent. All went well until halfway down one of the straps suddenly snapped, and with a thud Olie dropped headlong into the place of his eternal rest. The canvas strap had rotted and now the casket was jammed at an awkward angle in the grave. Fortunately there was a tow-rope in the pick-up. I leaned over and balanced myself with one foot on the tilted casket and managed to pass the rope under it. Then with everyone’s cooperation and strength, we managed to level the casket and properly lower Olaf into his grave. Although happy may not be the right word, all of us were pleased to have this behind us. Before leaving, Captain Duffy suggested we go to the new hotel on the beach owned by a Belgian couple. Now with the money already set aside by the company for this occasion, the mood quickly changed from one of mourning to a celebration of Olaf’s life.” CemeteryBurialLiberiaWest AfricaMma Captain Hank Bracker Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
“One of the crew shouted, “Man overboard!” Seeing what had happened, I instantly threw the engines into reverse, attempting to stop the vessel’s headway without backing over my floundering steward. As the ship shuttered from the unexpected reverse thrust of her engines, now running full speed astern and fighting the current, I watched helplessly as a large prehistoric reptile slithered into the muddy river. Instinctively he was followed by others. Within an instant they were underwater and out of sight, but I knew they were heading in our direction hoping for a tasty dinner. It took a while for me to actually stop the ship’s headway and start to back down. The bosun already had a ladder over the side and yelled to him to stop trashing around, but Henry was panicking and we all expected him to get pulled under. Henry quickly became aware of the imminent danger he was in and stopped floundering, thus allowing the current to carry him in our direction. Now with the ship stopped, we were at the mercy of the current. Henry, with fear painted on his face, would never be closer to us than now. This was the time for him to swim the last short distance, but his fear and knowing that splashing would attract the crocodiles caused him to freeze. With everyone shouting instructions it became confusing, so calculating the risk, I dove in and with just a few powerful strokes was next to Henry. The water was cool compared to the moist air and I thought it felt refreshing, but the only thing I should have been thinking about was getting the two of us out of there! Reaching out, I grabbed his already torn shirt and in what seemed less than a nanosecond towed him back to the ship. A push by me and a pull by the ship’s bosun landed the hapless steward on the deck like a fish out of water. Not wasting any time, I was up the ladder and onto the main deck in a shot. Looking back I half expected to see the huge mouth and glistening white teeth of a fearsome crocodilian. However, nothing stirred as we drifted with the current. Looking back to the now empty river bank I knew that just beneath the surface, they were in the murky water looking for us. Firing the engines up again, I turned the ship away from the bank and back on course in the channel. Handing the helm over to the Quartermaster, I went below to get changed since we would be approaching the treacherous sand bar in about a half hour.” Sea StoriesMma Captain Hank BrackerMan Overboard Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
“Once inside, I stood in the shadows where I knew that I was out of sight and carefully peered through the windows. What I saw made my heart skip a beat. It was Franz Knüppel, making his way between some of the huge bales of rubber towards the forward part of the ship. In the dark I fumbled for the signal pistol kept in a box on the bridge for emergencies and rammed a cartridge into its chamber. Not wanting to lose sight of Knüppel, I quietly stepped out onto the wing of the bridge, all the time keeping my eye on him…. I don’t think that he knew that he had been seen, because by this time he had made his way to the bollard holding our bow lines. Still trying to stay out of sight, I quickly stepped forward and watched as he suddenly took a few steps to where he could leap across the open space between the dock and the ship. “What’s he up to?” I thought, as I saw him coming down the port side of the Farmington closing the distance between us. My heart was racing as I stepped out of the shadows and pointed the pistol at him from the bridge and said in my most convincing way, “Get off my ship or I’ll fry your ba11s with a flare!” I was so nervous that had I pulled the trigger it could well have happened. “I’m just looking for Olaf,” he lied. Acting as judge and jury I proclaimed, “The hell you are, he’s dead, you killed him and now it’s your turn!” I never saw anyone move as fast. Knüppel jumped to the dock and ran, ducking between the big bales of raw rubber. Suddenly all of the lights on the dock came on, illuminating everything within sight. The watchman having heard the commotion had thrown the master switch and now started blowing his English Bobbie’s whistle as he gave chase. I knew that the watchman was no match for Knüppel and hoped that he wouldn’t have to confront him. By now the entire Port of Harbel was awake! I could see lights going on everywhere, but Franz Knüppel, the deserter from the French Foreign Legion, eluded the watchman and disappeared into the dark. I’m glad that I didn’t have to pull the trigger because I only had one shot handy and would have had to make it count. I don’t know where Knüppel went, but the night swallowed him up!” ShipsSea StoriesWest AfricaMma Captain Hank BrackerMonrovia Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
“Asking him about how I was expected to do all of this, he told me that “Maine turns out good seaman and they needed another Harbor Pilot at the Liberian Port.” At first I didn’t understand his reasoning for this, however he explained that Farrell Lines, being one of three American companies that constituted the “Port of Monrovia Company,” had the responsibility to operate the marine part of it. Liam Janssens, the chief pilot, was leaving for Belgium and would be on leave for the next few months. He explained that the junior pilot was skilled and anything but junior. Captain Wethersfield came from England and had been involved in coordinating the difficult evacuation from Dunkirk. He would have taken over for Liam, but having been wounded hampered his ability to climb the ladder from the tug to the ship! He also let it be known that he felt that he had the promotion coming and told Captain Hickey as much. Hickey was caught between a rock and a hard place as he told me “You know the harbor as well as anyone, so the job is yours; that is if you want it.” His purpose for doing it this way was first to avoid hiring Wethersfield who in effect, challenged Captain Hickey authority and secondly he had confidence that I could handle it. Besides “You know that everything pretty much runs itself and it would be a nice way to earn an extra few bucks!” He was saying that this would allow me to run the MV Cestos and still be able to fill in as a harbor pilot…. It was a job I wasn’t licensed for or had ever done. To me it was just another violation of the norms accepted in the rest of the world. Legally I would be covered with Liberian endorsements and besides, who would know the difference just as long as everything went smoothly during the weeks ahead? Personally I didn’t think that he took into account the immense liability involved but this was West Africa where most things were fudged anyway, and besides, since this hadn’t been planned for, he didn’t have much choice! I couldn't help but wonder about international licensing laws, possible insurance consequences, not to mention his own rules.” LawLiberiaMma Captain Hank BrackerMonroviaHarbor Pilot Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."