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The Sea Captain By Ralph Grizzle Visit the North Carolina Maritime Museum in Beaufort, and you're likely to run into Captain Biff Bowker. The good captain, now 84, began sailing on tall ships when he was just a boy. During his long career, he has dodged torpedoes, navigated (successfully, we might add) the treacherous waters off Cape Hatteras and worked alongside surly old salts who made their living at sea. Today, life is a bit more relaxed for Captain Bowker. Instead of commanding ships, he commutes from his home in Sea Level to the Maritime Museum, where he volunteers several days a week. Visitors to the museum welcome the opportunity to talk with a real sailor and to hear Captain Bowker's sea stories. He says he may be the last of the sailing ship generation. "I don't know of any others," Bowker says. "I don't even see them at the museum." Captain Bowker has not only sailed a slew of ships but also penned three books. His knowledge of ships and sea runs as deep and as long as the Gulf Stream. "We call him our living nautical treasure," says the Museum's Connie Mason. A Tall Ship and a Star to Steer Her By As a boy living in Mystic, Connecticut, Francis "Biff" Bowker loved watching sailing vessels pass along the Atlantic shore. His father owned a hunting and fishing shack at the tip of Cape Cod. On outings to the coastal retreat, Bowker often took his telescope to train on passing ships. He learned to identify the ships, and could soon tell not only where they were going but also what they were carrying. "There was a building boom in Miami, and these big sailing schooners were transporting building supplies from north to south," Bowker recalls. "I could see the mast of the schooners sailing by from my father's hunting shack." To get a better view, the young boy ran across the point and clamored up on a high sand dune to eye the passing ships with his telescope. "I was just fascinated with these vessels," he says. And he knew that some day he would sail on one of them. That day came when a three-masted schooner docked in Boston. Bowker, then a teenager, went to the docks to ask the captain if he might join the ship. The captain was not in need of additional laborers. But Bowker said that somehow he was going to get on the ship, now or later. Obviously impressed with the boy's resolve, the captain responded, "Well, I can't afford to pay you, but if you want to make the trip, and you're willing to work hard, I can take you along."
During five weeks at sea, Bowker learned a lot about the trade, and when the trip ended, he couldn't wait to go on another. His opportunity came through an article in the New York Times. The paper reported how more than 500 people had stormed the New York docks in an effort to gain passage on a Venezuelan five-masted ship known as the Edna Hoyt. The steamship workers were on strike, and people were eager to obtain any kind of transportation they could, even on a sailing ship that transported goat manure from Venezuela to New York. But the captain of the Edna Hoyt refused to take on any passengers. In protest, the crowd collapsed the gangway. "I read all of this and said to myself, 'I'm going to get on that ship,' " Bowker recalls. "But I didn't go to New York." Bowker knew the ship made frequent trips. He also knew the owner had offices in Boston, so he paid a visit. Bowker recognized the owner from the newspaper article. "What can I do for you young fellow," the owner asked. "I want to sail on the Edna Hoyt," Bowker said boldly. "And so did 500 others in New York," the owner rebuked tartly. "What makes you think you can get on?"
"Because now, sir, you only have one to deal with," Bowker replied abruptly. The owner sized up the young boy and said: "Tell you what. Come back this spring, and we'll see what we can do." Bowker did return, and he left with a commission to sail on the ship, which was docked in Jacksonville, Florida. The teenage boy bought a pair of new boots, packed some clothes and boarded a bus. He arrived to a beautiful, trim vessel tied up at the dock, and proceeded up the gangway, admiring the fine ship. The captain, his wife and the captain's first mate sat under an awning at the back of the ship. Upon seeing Bowker, the captain stood up, put his arm on the rail and asked in a gravelly voice, "What can I do for you young man?" Bowker produced a letter from the owner. The captain looked it over and said: "I'll tell you what you can do with this letter. You can put it in your [expletive deleted] back pocket and get back down that [expletive deleted] gangway." Bowker was stunned, but he calmly replied, "Yes sir, I'll do that." "Well get going," the captain commanded. "No sir," Bowker responded.
Boldly, Bowker demanded to be compensated for his journey from the Northeast. "I earned every nickel to make my way down here," the boy said. "I worked on a chicken farm, selling eggs to pay for my bus fare, hotel room and food. I'll go as you want me to, but I want to be paid back the money I spent getting down here." The captain scratched his chin and told Bowker: "All right. Come back tomorrow morning at 8 and be ready to work."
The Perils of the Sea Bowker sailed several trips on the Edna Hoyt and went on to crew on other ships. When World War II broke out, he sailed supplies from the West Indies to the East Coast. It was a particularly risky business, as German submarines were downing ships. Bowker watched as other ships foundered with gaping holes in their hulls, while he tried to steer clear of danger. But on the way to Bermuda, German subs tried to sink his ship. Alerted to a torpedo firing, Bowker, a first mate, commanded, "Hard left and get her straightened out!" The captain, who had been below, stormed on deck. "What's going on?" Bowker pointed to a light that indicated that a torpedo had been fired. "You did the right thing," the captain said. But the young man did not leave the war unscathed. During a transatlantic crossing, he ruptured an ulcer that nearly killed him. Unconscious for most of the voyage, he remembers overhearing two doctors discussing how he wasn't going to make it unless they could get him to a hospital. The ship just happened to be 40 miles off the coast of Newfoundland, and the two doctors had good reason, in addition to the care of their patient, for wanting to make a port call. "Say, do you remember those two girls we met the last time we were in Newfoundland?" Bowker overhead one of the doctors ask the other. "Would you like to see them again?" "Sure would," the other replied. "Well, if we can arrange a convoy to take our patient to St. Johns." The other doctor needed to hear no more. "I'll go talk with the captain," he said eagerly. Bowker still credits those two Canadian lassies, unknown to him, with saving his life. Snug Harbor After several weeks in the hospital, Bowker recovered. But a doctor advised him not to undertake any more long sea journeys. It appeared as if Bowker's dance with the sea had ended, so he returned home to his wife and three children. He worked for his wife's uncle but wasn't satisfied being away from the sea. He started a Sea Scout program that eventually led to his becoming captain of the Brilliant, a schooner operated by the Mystic Seaport Museum. He held the post for 25 years, spending a quarter of a century taking young boys and girls on sailing adventures. When his wife of 53 years died, the captain of the Brilliant moved to North Carolina. He lives at Sea Level with about 100 other merchant marines at The Sailor's Snug Harbor, a retirement home for merchant seamen and women meeting the basic requirement of at least ten years deep-sea service. Most of the Snug Harbor residents worked on steamships, making Bowker, the tall ship captain, somewhat of an outsider. "There was a fellow here who worked on a square rigger when I first came," he said. "But he's dead now. I'm pretty much a loner. The other fellows talk about the ships they were on, but they're not interested in the ones I was one. They figure I wasn't a union man." He hasn't been to sea since arriving in North Carolina. "If I had the chance, I would go," he says eagerly. "But no one has asked."
There may be hope yet. As this article went to press, a square-rigged schooner was scheduled to arrive in Beaufort during the month of October. This one is a replica. Bowker sailed the real thing. And with it, many other ships making their way to the Southerly latitudes will call on Beaufort. Surely, someone will stop to ask the captain out to sea once again.
Sidebar: Sailor's Snug Harbor Revolutionary War hero Captain Robert Richard Randall founded a "home by the sea" in 1801 when he arranged to bequeath his 21-acre estate, located in the heart of Greenwich Village, to a perpetual trust. Randall's intent was to provide a home for "aged, decrepit and worn out seamen."
Built originally on Staten Island in 1833, the first Sailor's Snug Harbor housed more than 11,000 disabled and retired mariners before moving to the small summer boating and fishing village at Sea Level in 1976. The trust still owns much of the estate today and collects rent on those New York properties, which funds the operation of Sailor's Snug Harbor. |
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