The Gaze of Empowerment

                                                               Anchored in San Francisco Bay my shipping port, we waited patiently for the tide to turn, which would allow the huge tanker to transit up the Sacramento River. The wharf launch was headed toward the ship, bouncing over the harbor swells being lifted by the incoming breezes from the Pacific Ocean. It carried the Pilot who would take over the navigation of the ship while sailing up the river to Benicia where the ship would be discharged of crude oil. When the launch bumped up against the hull, I dropped the heaving line to its deck to be attached to the Pilot's sea bag so we could haul it to the deck. Leaning over the rail of the MV San Francisco, I watched the Pilot ascend the Jacob's ladder that dangled down the side of the ship. About half way up the ladder, the Pilot looked up at us and stopped climbing for a moment to stare at me. Ah, he noticed. A woman on the crew. I intuitively knew the question running through his mind: Will she be at the helm when we navigate the river? Can she do this job? Welcoming him aboard, the bosun chatted with him about his time off and the traveling he had done, my ship mate and I hauled the sea bag up the side of the hull, flopped it onto the deck and released it from the heaving line. Then we pulled the Jacob's ladder back onto the deck. The Pilot turned to acknowledge me and stopped for a second, critical look at my face, eye to eye, and I returned his gaze, but he made no comments other than a short greeting, a hand shake, and a nod of his head. I thought, how refreshing this is; before me stands a man of intelligence, self-assured confidence and respectful countenance all existing simultaneously in a single personage. Here is someone who offers respect and thus was worthy of respect. It was a rare commodity and highly noticeable.

The trip up the Sacramento was smooth and efficient. On the down river trip, I was on watch as the helmsman. The Pilot's navigational skill, timing, and focus gave me great confidence at the helm. We functioned like a well-oiled machine, he giving the commands for degree changes, me executing them with confidence and finesse. My focus was completely upon him and my duty to steer the tanker through the narrow Sacramento River channel. After the final buoy had been passed and the watch changed, I was relieved from the helm, but not before the Pilot turned and looked me squarely in the eye to say, "Well done, sailor." I answered with a nod and said, "Thank you."

Remembering this encounter from my days of traveling by ship, for Exxon Shipping Company, before the 1989 Valdez spill mind you, I am reminded of Spurr's comments about the journalist's dependence upon visual observation, and that the gaze "marks an exclusion as well as a privilege: the privilege of inspecting, of examining, of looking at..." Two human beings who are able to look one another in the eye, to form an unspoken understanding that they each have a common goal is reassuring. To offer trust to another human being and receive a sense of that person's offer of mutual confidence, gives a tremendous sense of empowerment for both parties. That is the exciting thing. There were few people I met in the industry who actually had the kind of confidence that comes from experience and capability, but meeting someone with a self-identity that places confidence in others, even when the stakes are high, is a great comfort.  Maneuvering a loaded oil tanker through very narrow channels is high risk and creates high stakes because many people are responsible to work together, but the final responsibility always rests in the Pilot of the vessel.