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Quote by Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two"

“When we passed Camp Johnson, the military compound, I couldn’t believe that I was seeing two bodies suspended from the high security fence near the gate. On Broad Street, which is the main drag in Monrovia, there were streetlights but to my horror they were being used as gallows. Some still had bodies hanging from them, which appeared bloated and badly decomposed. Other bodies were decomposing in the gutters, with runoff water swirling around them. The decaying process doesn’t take long in this tropical heat, and it was obvious from the sickenly smell that permeated the air that they had been dead for a while. The city appeared to be under Martial Law with soldiers assisting the police, directing traffic. Lacking traffic lights each intersection was congested with cars, horn blaring and nobody moving. It was a mess and heavily armed, rag-tag soldiers, were now, everywhere.”

Quote by Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two"

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Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two"

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“It seemed as if the crud of the universe had found its way into the two rose boxes. The strainers were choked with unmentionable sludge and with every handful of muck I pulled out, I expected to find a decaying dead rat. Of course, this idea was firmly planted into my cranium by the upperclassmen, but this was not to be. Instead, I found rags, paper, lots of gunky oil, a few pens, some socks and someone’s denim shirt. One bucket at a time was lifted with my hands until the job was done. Some diesel oil and clean rags cleaned the metal surfaces good enough to be painted. I have no idea how long it took to dry, if it ever did, but the engineers were impressed enough to allow me time for dinner.”

“Another thing etched into my memory, was that someone stole my swimming suit from the wash line that ran from an upstairs window to a rickety wooden pole behind the house. That someone would steal clothing from a clothesline puts the desperation of people during the depression years into focus. Discovering this, I ran to tell Charlie the Cop…. Charlie was a mounted policeman who sat tall in the saddle, and he was my idol. He cut quite an impressive figure of authority in his blue uniform, badge, and highly shined, black riding boots. Charlie, Jersey City’s finest, carefully listened to my tale of woe and promised to get to the bottom of this serious criminal matter. I believed what he said and trusted him to get my itchy two- piece, woolen, swimsuit back. Years went by and he never did apprehend the culprits, but in my heart I know that this is still an open case with the Jersey City Police Department and Charlie is still out there looking! We respected the police and thought of them as friends. Charlie on his horse patrolled our area and was known and trusted by everyone. I wish that the police were thought of in the same way today.”

“Suddenly, as I watched the powerful dynamics of the ocean, I saw a young boy and his sister trying to make their way around the front of the superstructure. Like me, they wanted to get a better view. It was just then that an exceptionally large wave struck, bringing the water crashing over the anchor windlass and the foredeck. The force swept the children off their feet and towards the railing. My first thought was that they were about to be carried overboard, into this unforgiving ocean. Fortunately, they managed to hold fast onto the lower rung of the railing, as the bulk of the water washed over the side or ended up in the scuppers. As the ship started to lift itself from the ocean’s grip, I ran across the foredeck and grabbed both children with one arm. Feeling the ship begin its slide into another trough, I grabbed hold of a stanchion with my free hand. Once more, the vessel shuddered and lifted, trying to break free of the raging ocean. In this wild roller coaster ride, we were all soaked in the cold salt water that flooded around us, but I managed to hold fast. It seemed like an eternity that I lay there trying to prevent the three of us from being washed over the side. Braced against the fishplate, my leg steadied us until the next convulsion lifted us high above the ocean again. At the right moment, we all got up and ran. Slipping and sliding we ran down the sloping deck to the relative safety of the leeward side. The Deck Officer on the Bridge, who had the watch, saw what had happened and recommended me for a “Life Saving award.” I didn’t think that I deserved an award for what I had done, but nevertheless I received one on our return voyage. And when the crew learned what had happened, I was promoted in their estimation from a greenhorn kid, to one of them.”

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago--never mind how long precisely--having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.”