Oceans and Seas

the work of author Michael Krieger

Part 6 – Fateful Decision – All the Men In the Sea: The Untold Story of One of the Greatest Rescues in History

Posted by on Aug 8, 2017

Part 6 – Fateful Decision – All the Men In the Sea: The Untold Story of One of the Greatest Rescues in History

Fateful Decision

By early afternoon Tuesday, Superintendent Lobb and Joe Perot, C.C.C.’s operations chief and Lobb’s boss back in Ciudad del Carmen—the closest port and city, 60 miles away—had made a fateful decision.

It would determine the future of the 269, her two tugs, and all the men onboard the three vessels. Two other barges belonging to C.C.C. had also been working in the oil field.

The Sara Maria was a smaller derrick barge used only to work on offshore oil platforms.

During Hurricane Opal, which had hit the Gulf two weeks before Roxanne, the Sara Maria had dropped her big storm anchor and was still dragged more than 50 miles until she was nearly thrown onshore.

When Roxanne came along, the barge’s superintendent, Doug Hebert, demanded that she be towed into the sheltered bay at Carmen.

The old lay barge Mega Dos, similar in size to the 269, was also towed in.

Yet Richard Lobb and Joe Perot decided that the 269, which was working in the same general area as the other barges, would ride out the hurricane under tow.

Clyde 60 DE crane

All Business

Richard Lobb was a big man, 6 feet 2 inches and muscular.

Even in his middle fifties he was in reasonably good shape without having to exercise.

Lobb had worked his way up on the oilfield barges, from lining up pipe sections for welding to foreman to superintendent, and had been in that position on the 269 for many years.

At any hour of the day or night, Lobb could be seen conferring with one of his foremen or supervisors or striding down the deck in a neatly pressed shirt and jeans to be present wherever or whenever important operation was taking place.

The 269‘s head man, a gravel-voiced good-old-boy from Port Arthur, Texas, was friendly, but he was all business.

He made sure every job was done correctly. Lobb personally checked the barge’s log, in which every major occurrence during each six-hour period was noted.

And besides demanding careful work, he required personal neatness of every man onboard.

A Local Captain

Mexican law dictates that every vessel registered in that country must have a Mexican captain in charge. The 269‘s regular captain was off duty and temporarily ashore.

In his place was Acting Captain Miguel Alvarez Cantu.

Several crew members reported, however, that Cantu was licensed only to operate a vessel no larger than 7,500 tons, and the 269 was over 8,000 gross tons.

If his license was in fact limited to smaller vessels, Cantu was not legally qualified to captain her.

In any case, according to many of the divers and barge crew, the Mexican captains were figureheads.

On all important questions both captains deferred to Richard Lobb.

They didn’t spit without first getting his permission.

The crew members agreed: on the 269 Richard Lobb was king.

The one person Lobb did defer to was Joe Perot.

During the days ahead they would have frequent radio consultations.

Everyone else took orders from Lobb, even the diving contingent, who was theoretically independent of his authority.

If anyone disobeyed his orders, that person could be riding the next crew boat ashore, possibly out of a job.

Sure, they could complain to the company, but probably to no avail.

On Time, Over Budget

Besides seeing that the work was done correctly, Lobb was to see that it was done on time.

But the barge was weeks behind in her work schedule.

And now that they had to discontinue operations to prepare for the hurricane, they would fall even further behind.

Completing the work was vitally important to C.C.C. because it would bring to a close a $27 million contract with Pemex and thus the contractor would receive all the money the oil company owed it.

There was a major problem, however.

The Pemex-C.C.C. contract called for the work to be completed August 23, 1995, 180 days from the time the job began.

For every day past August 23 that the work was not completed, a penalty of 0.2 percent (1 percent for every five days) of the contract amount was to be deducted.

On October 10, when the divers were brought up, the 269 was already seven weeks behind schedule.

Delays due to acts of God (including storms) were deducted from the penalty amount but only if the storms were so severe that the Ciudad del Carmen port captain closed the port.

The port had been closed for only a few days owing to the two preceding hurricanes, so already nearly $1.5 million in penalties were due to be deducted.

If the 269 were towed to a safe port, non-reimbursable towing time would certainly exceed one and maybe two days—read an additional $54,000 to $108,000 in penalties.

If, on the other hand, the 269 held position just east of the work site, only a few hours would be lost towing in each direction.

It would later be argued that this was a mighty incentive for C.C.C. to keep the 269 in the oil patch.

Lobb, however, would later dispute this charge.

Closest Safe Harbor

Of course there were other considerations in dealing with the hurricane.

The entrance to the sheltered bay at Carmen was shallow and the channel poorly marked.

Then the bay itself was even more shallow.

They could drag the 269 in, but they might have a major job towing her out again.

There were two other ports, but they were farther away.

The closest one was Dos Bocas, about 100 miles to the southwest, and the other, Coatzacoalcos, was more than 180 miles away.

So unless either Joe Perot or Richard Lobb had a change of heart, they would take on the storm under tow.

No doubt the two men realized that there was always some risk in keeping the barge at sea, but it had survived countless storms in the past, so why shouldn’t it now?

Lashing Everything Down

Throughout the barge, preparations were underway.

In the galley the cooks were making what might be the last hot meal for the next few days.

Below the living deck even more frantic activity was taking place, especially on the machinery deck.

This, the lowest deck, running nearly the entire length and width of the 269, housed all the mechanical equipment that operated the various systems needed for the barge to do her work and to provide up to 250 men with good living conditions.

Forward on the machinery deck, engineer’s assistants were securing everything that wasn’t already lashed down in various compartments containing generators, compressors, the desalination and tanks (which produced the huge amount of fresh water needed every day), the air-conditioning and refrigeration equipment, and most of the vessel’s other large operating machinery.

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Part 1 – All the Men In the Sea: The Untold Story of One of the Greatest Rescues in History

Posted by on Jul 20, 2017

Part 1 – All the Men In the Sea: The Untold Story of One of the Greatest Rescues in History

To the men of the Captain John,

the Seabulk North Carolina,

the Ducker Tide, and the DLB-269,

who risked their lives so that others might live.

Also this book is dedicated to the men

who didn’t return and to those

who are still suffering.

 

P R O L O G U E

269 tattoo

Luis Domingo de la Riva gazed up at the great Clyde as the crane rotated its boom above him, swinging it toward some sections of oil pipe to be moved.

The young Mexican deck-hand was still learning his way around, and the twenty-four-hour bustle of work on the 269 never ceased to amaze him.

A group of American divers passed on their way to the saturation chamber.

They were the elite, the high-paid crew who did the most difficult work of making the final connections in the un­dersea oil pipeline they were building.

Most of the vessel’s crew were Luis’s fellow countrymen, except for the dive crew, the head man, Richard Lobb, and some other “technicos” who kept all the specialized equipment running and were in charge of the anchor operations.

Luis had heard that the company was owned by a rich Mexican, but the boy had never seen him.

Luis just did as he was told and tried to absorb as much as he could in hopes of advancing and making more money.

He knew little about the offshore oil business, but he was learning rapidly.

barge 269

The DLB-269 and her two towing vessels would face Hurricane Roxanne together.  (Illustration by O.P. Chauvin, one of the men in the sea)

Why Offshore Drilling?

Luis knew that most of the world’s oil and gas initially came from wells on good old solid ground.

Beginning with the first wells drilled in the latter half of the nineteenth century, the deposits that could be most easily extracted were those first depleted.

As more and more resources on land were drained and oil was discovered in shallow coastal waters, a new industry emerged.

In the late 1940s the first offshore wells were drilled in shallow water and undersea pipelines were laid to bring the oil and gas ashore.

Then, as more discov­eries were made in deeper water, the technology was de­veloped to exploit them.

Huge offshore drilling rigs were anchored in the seabed or sometimes floated on top of it.

Pipelines, often hundreds of feet beneath the surface, first had to be prefabricated on specially equipped barges or ships and then lowered to the ocean bottom and, once there, somehow held in place.

Derrick Lay Barge

Although some ships were used for this work, most ves­sels were derrick-equipped barges especially built to lay under­sea pipelines and to construct and repair the drilling platforms.

The name given these barges, at least in the United States, where the largest offshore construction companies were head­quartered, was “derrick lay barge.”

They were unpowered and were towed by tugs and by anchor/supply vessels.

The 269, on which Luis Domingo worked, was a derrick lay barge.

Built in Japan in 1967 for Brown and Root, then one of the largest offshore contractors in the world, DLB-269 was 400 feet long by 100 feet wide and had a 19-foot draft.

She Carried Stacks of Oil Pipe

Sections were laid end-to-end in an assembly line in a special “pipe alley” which ran from near the bow to a stern ramp that dropped into the sea.

Two cranes on board moved heavy materials, including pipe sections, which might be 40 feet long by 3 feet in diameter and weigh over two tons.

The concrete-covered sections were welded together in the pipe alley, then checked with X-ray machines to make sure the welds were solid and there were no holes through which oil or gas might leak.

Derrick lay barges move along preset pipeline courses like floating spiders, pulled by retrieving cables to giant anchors, which are put down, picked up, and then reset by accompanying tugs and anchor tenders.

As a barge moves, a pipeline drops off the stern, lowered diagonally from the end of a “stinger,” which protrudes from the barge’s transom.

Once the pipeline is on the seabed, divers are lowered in a diving bell to make final undersea connections.

Jet Sled

Then a jet sled, low­ered from and towed behind the barge, blasts a trench beneath the pipe using high-pressure water jets.

The pipe drops into the trench and then is covered by sand or silt blown over it by the jet sled.

These operations require welders, inspectors, riggers, divers, dive tenders, and a shipload of technicians, mechanics, roustabouts, cooks, cleaners, and other support personnel, including deckhands like Luis, who all live on the barge.

On October 10, 1995, the crew of DLB-269 numbered 245 men.

Thus, when we talk about the 269 we are talking about a small town—and a vulnerable one.

Even being towed by her two tugs, she could not be moved very far very fast.

The 269 and all the men aboard her were floating victims. Their attacker would be named Roxanne.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

Since all vessels and aircraft mentioned used twenty-four­hour/military time, it is the standard used in the book. Conversion from civilian time is simple, as illustrated by the following examples.

One minute after midnight = 0001

8:30 A.M. = 0830

Noon = 1200

3 P.M. = 1500

11:59 P.M. = 2359

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