WANTED: Skilled Harbor Pilot

In preparation for a new novel, I’ve been immersing myself in books and documentaries about the Halifax Explosion of December 6, 1917. Possibly not my smartest move, given how difficult it already is these days to maintain one’s mental equilibrium. Reading about the horrors of that event can drag you into dark places, but it offers lessons as well.

This prairie girl is learning so much I never knew, not only about that disaster but about Halifax itself, World War I, and the shipping industry. I’ve studied maps, listed names, and made pages of notes.

Before this, if you’d asked me what a “harbor pilot” does, I might have taken a stab at it. Like an air traffic controller for boats? Maybe from a helicopter?

Not quite.

Harbor piloting is a career that depends on where you were raised. Most pilots grew up on and around boats. They know their local harbor like they know their own mother’s face. They understand its tides, currents, and hazards. They know which ships are currently in the harbor, at which piers they’re docked, what they carry, and how fast they’re moving. They know the depth of the water and exactly what lies hidden beneath.

When a ship approaches the harbor, its captain requests one of these local pilots, who arrives alongside in a little pilot boat. He boards the ship by climbing the ladder tossed over the side for him. Once the pilot is safely aboard, the helmsman of the pilot boat tootles off to his next pick-up or drop-off. The pilot stands alongside the captain and guides the ship in, sometimes taking control if warranted. If the pilot does a good job, he’ll likely be called upon when it’s time to navigate out to sea again. With that complete, the pilot disembarks the same way he boarded.

In 1917, a full complement of pilots in Halifax harbor was 25, with eight apprentices. With so many men away fighting the Great War, Halifax was down to 14 pilots at a time when the harbor was busier than ever. Ship captains were not legally required to engage harbor pilots. They were, however, required to pay the fee for one. No captain would be foolish enough to forfeit this paid-for assistance, especially his first time in a port.

As I studied, a spiritual application arose. Have you ever wondered where that line between God’s sovereignty and your free will lies? This relationship between captain and pilot might provide a helpful picture. Although the captain remains responsible for his own ship, he knows his knowledge is limited. He needs someone wiser to guide him. To navigate. He can choose whether to allow the pilot on board. 

He can choose whether to accept the pilot’s advice. He is free to listen or not. Listening proves challenging among the thrumming engines, squawking gulls, crashing waves, and tooting of other watercraft. No matter how knowledgeable the pilot is, the captain always has the option of acting upon the pilot’s advice or going his own way.

Francis Mackey

In the case of Harbor Pilot Francis Mackey aboard the ill-fated SS Mont Blanc, language proved another barrier. His limited French and Captain Aimé Le Médec’s limited English proved an unfortunate combination in an already tumultuous situation. Both were prone to human error, as was the crew of the SS Imo with which they collided, setting off a chain of events that would result in the world’s largest man-made explosion prior to the atomic bomb.

Here my illustration weakens. God cannot make an error. Still, he gives me the choice to invite him onto my ship. He knows every detail of the harbor, but he still grants me the freedom to choose. Will I tune out distractions, listen, and follow? Or go my own way?

You’ll pay the fee either way. Why not throw the ladder over the side and welcome your Harbor Pilot aboard?