Three outboards on a boat

The year was 1982. I was on temporary assignment to Naval Air Station Jacksonville, Florida. My department: Special (recreational) Services. My division: The Marina.

It was the absolute best job I ever had.

The Marina was on the bank of the St. Johns River at the eastern edge of the base. There were three civilians who worked there. George, the manager; Helen, the secretary; and Phil, the maintenance/repair guy. They worked Monday-Friday, 8-4, except Fridays. We had a senior petty officer who supervised the military personnel. He was usually a first-class petty officer (E6). He worked the same hours. All of them had holidays off. The rest of us, all military, were in two shifts, of 4 or 5 sailors apiece. We were off as many days as we worked. One week, my shift would work Tuesday-Wednesday, be off Thursday-Friday, then work Saturday-Monday. The next week, we flipped. Weekday hours were 6 a.m.-sunset. Weekends and holidays were sunrise to sunset.

Our uniforms? During cooler weather, we wore gym shoes, dungaree pants and were allowed to work without an outer shirt and just wear plain, white tees. But in late spring and summer, we swapped the dungarees for khaki shorts. Also, when the civilians and our military supervisor wasn't around on Saturdays, I wore a red, "Evening With Maynard Ferguson" tee I bought at a concert earlier that year.

Never mind the work. That schedule was the greatest.

But the work wasn't bad, either.

Boats: We rented out 12-foot fishing boots that were powered by either a 6-HP Johnson or 7.5 Evinrude outboard motor. Apart from being less powerful, the Johnsons were crap. We also rented out sailboats. With each rental, we also issued one paddle for the boat and a life-preserver for each person. Both types had a capacity of three adults. We had a "chase" boat with an 85-HP Evinrude. We used that to scour the river for boats that had been out too long and to make sure no one went past the I-295 bridge, which was our southern boundary.

Private vessels: Those who owned boats moored them either in slips along the pier or clipped (I'm not sure that's the appropriate term) to buoys. The owners rented those spaces. We sold and pumped gas for them, and used one of the fishing boats to ferry them out to the buoys.

Fishing: No bait but we did rent out poles. Camping: We rented out tents and lanterns, and after first learning how ourselves, taught our customers how to erect and dismantle the tents and how to light the lanterns.

When the civilians were there, we mostly hung out in the back shop, where the engines and camping gear were stored until we had to do something. We checked them out and inspect them when checking in. Helen handled all transactions and paperwork. But when they were gone, one of us would man the desk and handle the money, receipts, etc.

For my first 4-5 months there, my shift had first an E6 and later an E5 (petty officer second class) shift leader. But after they both got transferred, I became shift leader. I was an E4 (petty officer third class).

Now that you have a breakdown of how things functioned at the Marina, let me tell you about the three engines. You see, there's this photo circulating on social media of a yacht with 5, large outboard motors. That reminded me of one lazy Sunday afternoon.

Things were really slow that day. So two of the guys on my shift asked if they could rent one of our fishing boats during their lunch break. There was nothing in the rules that said they couldn't, so I said okay. I was in the front shop - where the desk and fishing gear were - when 10 or 15 minutes later, I noticed one of them taking another Evinrude out.

Me: "Something wrong with the one you had?"

Him: "Naw. But that's too slow. So we want to see if two will make it go faster."

I wasn't sure this was a good idea, but I was curious. So I followed him out to the dock. The boat wasn't made for two outboards, so these crackpot engineers thought it over for a while until one of them came up with the idea of place a 2-x-4 board at the back of the boat so the motor clamp would be stable. What do you know? It worked. They took off, happy. I went back into the building. Not 10 minutes later, I heard a commotion from the back shop. I went to check it out. Those buffoons were getting a third motor.

Me: "What are you doing?"

Them: "That one made us go faster, so we want to see what three will do."

At first, I said no. Things were getting ridiculous. They pleaded. Eventually, I decided since it was Sunday and not many people were about, I told them to go ahead. But I still felt uneasy, so I told them to get away from the Marina. Go well out into the river, Just on the chance some commissioned officer came around, or somebody took their own boat out, I didn't want them to be seen.

I made the tactical error of trusting them.

They went out. Had their fun. And brought everything back in the condition they took it. Although because of their repeated trips back to the building and time spent rigging, their lunch hour was well over 90 minutes. But once they got back with everything intact, I felt better.

That was before I found out they'd been seen.

On Monday, the chief - I can't remember his name, but his face was like a hybrid of George Peppard ("Hannibal" in the original "A-Team" series) and Eric Dane ("Commander Chandler" of "The Last Ship"). He was a cool guy. We got along great. But on that day, he was not happy.

Apparently, my moronic shift members had gone into the cove, a little nook on the base side of the river. Though the land around the cove was mostly woods, there were a few buildings nearby. An officer saw them. Now that officer apparently thought it was funny to see their contraption. Unfortunately for us, the same officer thought it necessary to mention this to our department head. Thus, the chief's visit.

Chief spent about a half hour lecturing us about safety and protocols. None of us would be written up THIS time, but the department head was understandably embarrassed and angry that people under his command would do something so stupid. And the chief, who until that day, thought I had good sense.

Chief: "I thought you knew better. Why did you let them do that?"

Me: "They weren't gonna be out there that long, and I told them to stay away from the Marina area. I figured they could do it without drawing attention to themselves."

Chief: "Don't let nothing like this ever happen again."

After he left, my resident Doofus and Dunderhead tried to apologize.

Them: "Sorry. We didn't think you'd get in trouble, too."

I told them never to ask my permission to do anything again. And if caught either of them doing something they shouldn't, I would write them up before the chief heard about it.

Me: "Get outta my face before I write you up for just being stupid."

It was an empty threat. But they went outside anyway and tried to look busy.

I wonder if they ever tried anything like that after the Navy.