In Perilous Duty

The Tragedy & Honor of Lightship Service

- Jonathan Cooper

If a marine archeologist could resemble a thing, that person would be Nathaniel Howe: tall and lean, sporting a captain’s cap smeared with grease, a wispy beard, peacoat, and an easy manner. He is the steward for three vintage ships moored at Seattle’s Northwest Seaport, a floating maritime museum located at Historic Ships Wharf on south Lake Union. Nathaniel’s charges are old souls, including the most recent arrival, F/V Tordenskjold, a 1911 halibut schooner, and the longest-standing resident, the 1889 tug, Arthur Foss. The former is one of the oldest fishing vessels of her kind, the latter the star of the 1933 MGM picture, “Tugboat Annie.” The third ship in the fleet is perhaps the most distinctive, aided by her massive proportions, bright red hull, and 6-foot-tall white block lettering. Meet Swiftsure, known formally as United States Lightship LV-83, a long-since-retired floating lighthouse.

Nathaniel and I are standing in the officer’s quarters at the after end of Swiftsure. He is describing the layers of peeling and cracked paint on the wooden trim and steel support beams that surround us like a geologist might discuss striations in exposed granite. You can picture the calm night on station, the air thick with cigarette smoke, and a game of gin rummy playing out on the room’s central table. Surrounded by cabins for the captain, 1st mate, communications officer, and others with the stripes to gain access to this part of the ship, this is where decisions were made, but stripes or not, everyone was subject to the seasick inducing motion of a lightship on station.