A tragedy in Maryland

May 2022

By Jack Farrell

The talk of the waterfront these days is the terrible disaster in Baltimore that took down much of the Francis Scott Key Bridge, killing six construction workers, closing the port, and disrupting traffic in the region for perhaps years to come. The Singapore-flagged cargo ship Dali lost reliable propulsion and slammed into the bridge in the early morning hours of March 26 while heading out of Baltimore Harbor.

The Dali is a 984-foot, 91,000 gross-ton container ship with a beam of 158 feet, capable of carrying nearly 10,000 containers. She is powered by a single diesel-fueled main propulsion engine generating 56,000 horsepower, a 4,000-horsepower bow thruster, and two 4,400 kilowatt generators for electrical power. The vessel is capable of speeds up to 22 knots. Dali was built in South Korea in 2015 and was inspected by the United States Coast Guard as late as September, 2023.

The vessel was escorted from the Seagirt Marine Terminal in Baltimore by two McAllister tugs, which were released by the pilot at 1:09 a.m. By 1:25, the vessel was observed to be off course, and the tugs were re-called by the local pilot on board. With smoke billowing from her stern, the Dali struck the bridge less than four minutes later, and just before the tugs could arrive to assist.

A retired Baltimore pilot noted in the days that followed that some ships retain tug escorts beyond the Key Bridge transit, and some do not. It was not unusual, he observed, for a ship as large as the Dali to release her tug escort before passing under the bridge. Regulations vary from port to port, and the high cost of a tug escort (about $15,000 in this case) is always a factor for ship owners.

Back home on the Piscataqua River in Portsmouth, all large vessels are escorted by tugs from a point a mile or two outside of the river mouth until they are secure at their berths. As in Baltimore, all ships of a certain size are required to have local pilots aboard when entering or exiting the harbor. Tight bends, a narrow channel and sometimes frightful currents in the Piscataqua River make Portsmouth one of the most difficult harbors to negotiate. And even with tug escorts and experienced pilots, I have witnessed two serious incidents in recent years. In one case a ship was unable to make the left turn outbound against an incoming current at Henderson Point, and went aground on the Newcastle side of the channel causing minor damage to itself and some recreational boats moored nearby.

In another case from a few years back, I heard the whole drama unfold on the VHF. The oil tanker Harbour Feature had just tied up at the New Hampshire State Pier just above the old Sarah Long Bridge (since rebuilt). The two escorting tugs had been released and were heading back to their berths a mile or so away. The legendary Piscataqua tide was still running in at four knots past the bow of the ship, and a moderate west wind was blowing away from the pier on her starboard side. As the story goes, the winches on the ship were not strong enough to resist the forces on the bow lines, which eventually parted causing a sequential failure of the remaining lines. This allowed the bow to swing off the pier in the wind and current, and the ship drifted sideways toward the old bridge. The master put out a frantic call to the harbor pilot pleading for the tugs to return, as the crew attempted to stop the ship by dropping anchors.

The Coast Guard responded with its usual line of questioning: “Captain, what is the color of your vessel? How many people are aboard, and are they wearing personal flotation devices?”

The master abruptly interrupted in a language that was obviously not his first: “Never mind that, just send the tugs back, now! We’re going to hit the bridge.” The tug captains were listening on the radio, too. They were underway from their dock at Ceres Street as fast as possible, but the Harbour Feature was pinned against the bridge along her port side just minutes before they could arrive.

All of this is to remind us that the whole enterprise is fraught with peril and danger, even with the best precautions and most qualified operators. In the Baltimore case the question must be, why are ships like the Dali allowed to operate in such a congested area without tugs alongside, or at least nearby? Watch for more stringent federal regulations regarding tug escorts to be proposed in the wake of this tragedy.

Coincidentally, March 26 was also the date of the first drydock inspection of the Shining Star by the local Coast Guard since she was built two years ago. Things went very well, and we were cleared for launch – but not until we had a long discussion of safety precautions, and the firefighting and lifesaving gear aboard. While the Coast Guard’s inspection process for commercial vessels is often frustrating, with hundreds of pages of rules interpreted and applied by a revolving cast of inspectors, I welcome the process. These inspections, as well as the lessons to be learned from reflection and analysis of marine accidents like the one in Baltimore, help to keep me focused on the fact that it’s dangerous out there. And as our boatbuilding friend and former charter boat owner Jonathan reminded me after the inspection, “All those souls on that boat are counting on you.”

It was something of a reunion when the truck from Independent Boat Haulers arrived to take the Shining Star back down to the shore on April Fool’s Day. My oldest son worked on that crew for many years, and he had come by to see his old friends and help out. I think it was also a gesture of support for his old crewmates (and his old dad), considering the fact that the boat is on the edge of what their trailer can reasonably take on the public roads. As I followed them down the steep gravel drive to the state highway, staring down at the “wide load” banner flapping across the 15-foot transom, I could see why. It was definitely a friends and family trip with that big boat on the truck.

Meanwhile out at Star Island, the unofficial capital of the Isles of Shoals, yet another coastal storm assaulted the beleaguered shoreline with gusts to 60 knots. The open-up season officially began a week or so ago, but had to be cut short by the impending gale that left Alex the caretaker alone on the island once again. There would be no more trips out there for days afterward, and I was feeling very guilty after I forgot to transfer a longed-for supply of fresh bagels before we left. I can still see the look of deep disappointment on Alex’s face when she met me at the dock and learned the unhappy news. The bagels are in our freezer, and I promised to get them out to her as soon as the seas would die down again.

As we finally headed back out with the bagels a few days later, we found ourselves in a convoy with an outbound nuclear submarine heading to sea from the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard. This Piscataqua River escort consisted of three tugs, two Coast Guard patrol vessels, and at least three naval police launches with manned machine guns on their bows. The bagels shortly made it safely to Gosport Harbor, and the sub disappeared quietly beneath the sparkle of the waves in the early April sun.

Jack was the manager at Star Island for many years. He currently manages major construction and utility projects there and provides all-season boat service to the island (average 250 trips per year) for luggage, food, employees, supplies and guests. He also runs Seacoast Maritime Charters, LLC providing year-round private charter boat service and marine logistics to the general public, now in the Shining Star. He still enjoys cruising in his classic Ted Hood sloop, Aloft, and teaching skiing at Sugarloaf Mountain in Maine.

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