A couple of springs ago, while I was sailing my 45-foot sloop back from the Bahamas to its home in Newport, RI, we found ourselves off the Bight of New York and on a collision course with a freighter. We were sailing fast in a north easterly direction and it was accelerating, now that it was out of the confines of the channels, and steaming in a southerly direction. We saw the ship early and, after taking a series of bearings (that didn’t change) and tracking him with the AIS, we realized we would have a very close call. We waited for a few minutes to see if the ship, which was the burdened vessel according to the rules of the road, would alter course to his starboard to avoid us, the stand-on vessel. But, even though we knew he could see our AIS signal, it didn’t turn so I grabbed the cockpit VHF mic and called him on channel 16.
“Southbound freighter Helios, this is the northeast bound sailing vessel Lime’n one mile off your starboard bow. What are your intentions, please?”
The watchkeeper on the ship’s bridge replied almost right away in broken English. “We will be altering our course to starboard.”
We waited for the ship to make its turn so it would pass well behind our stern and then radioed him back. “Thank you, captain. Have a safe voyage. Lime’n out.”
“You, too. Helios out.” he relied.
The rules of the road are simple and clear. Yet, I am never quite sure whether or not the sailors driving ships or the captains driving big yachts or the guys buzzing at high speed around harbors actually know the rules or will obey them. It pays to keep a vigilant watch and to communicate in plenty of time to avoid the most dangerous thing in the ocean – a ship steaming without an alert watchkeeper.