Facing the perils of the sea in a catboat

Don Tatum at his home in Cotton Tree Bay, Cayman
Brac

Mr Tatum was Special Engineer for dry-docking in
Greece

Don Tatum at sixteen years

Friday,  January 6, 2006

Nobody had to tell Don Talbert Tatum that a seaman’s life could be dangerous. 

His father’s name is inscribed in the Tower Hill Memorial in London, which commemorates men of the Merchant Navy and Fishing Fleets who died in both world wars and have no known grave.

Able Seaman Talbert Tatum perished in 1941, at the age of thirty-three, when his ship, the SS Tunisia, was torpedoed during the slaughter of World War II.

Nevertheless, with few options open to men on Cayman Brac, Don Tatum spent a life at sea, beginning at age fourteen when he went to Morant Cays off the coast of Jamaica.

He went with his grandfather Smite Tatum, Stepfather Lemuel Bodden and Capt Clide Scott on the sailing vessel Kirk B.

“Life was hard, but I didn’t mind. I wanted to learn; things went well. My pay was ten shillings a month and the money from what fish I caught.” 

Mr Tatum told Cayman Net News of a long and perilous journey made in 1950 in a catboat when he was just sixteen.

That year, he made his third voyage to Morant Cays, again with his grandfather and Capt Scott, this time on the motor and sailing vessel, the Tailor.

“I think Captain Scott liked me. He said he would give me a man pay this time. Boy, was I glad we stopped off at South West Cay Morant Cay’s to fish and get the Cay’s ready so the birds could lay eggs! 

“This was the purpose of our trip, to get bird eggs to sell in Jamaica, and we got them by the thousands.” 

Smite Tatum stayed on Morant Cay with two other men, while Don Tatum and Latin Ebanks (who was slightly younger) stayed on Pedro Cay with the “cay boss” Lithon Bodden.

Meanwhile, Capt Clide took the Tailor back to run freight around the coast of Jamaica until it was time for the birds to start laying their eggs. This was to make extra money on the trip, since they were working on shares and not wages.

“It was time for Capt Scott to come back, but no Tailor. We were out of food, only fish and turtles to eat. We didn’t know what had happened, but we knew something was wrong. We had no way of knowing, not even a radio,” said Mr Tatum. 

After a week, Mr Bodden said, “Don, lets go to Jamaica in the boat.” He referred to a catboat, fourteen feet long with sail and oars, and Mr Tatum agreed. 

They sailed over to Morant Cay to drop off Latin Ebanks with the others, and there his grandfather told him not to go because it was dangerous - seventy miles of open water to mainland Jamaica, and about one hundred and thirty miles to Kingston. 

“I didn’t listen to my grandfather, and I have been sorry every since,” he said. The two young men set sail about 10:00 am for Jamaica. Everything went well, but they could not see Jamaica because it was so much rain. 

“Night was coming, no land in sight, no food and little water,” recalled Mr Tatum. They set course by the sun, but in the growing darkness and in the rain, they almost missed Jamaica completely.

When finally they sighted land, they were almost midway across the island. The little catboat spotted an English 10,000 tonne cargo ship out of Kingston, but the crew, mistaking them for local fishermen, waved and passed them by.

They reached the port of Bouding at the eastern end of Jamaica twelve hours after they left the Cays, but now it was dark and they didn’t know their way through the channel.

The first time they tried to get through, the sea from the reef broke on the catboat and they almost sank. This happened again the second time.

“The third time we said we were going to go no matter what happened. We were worn out and tired and didn’t care any more.” 

Miraculously, they made it through, and landed about 10:00 pm that night. With twenty-one shillings in their pockets, they were able to buy food and rest on the dock until daybreak. 

There was no breeze that day, so the boy and the young man rowed until they reached Kingston, around 3:00 pm that afternoon. 

“Hungry, tired, wet and sleepy, we thanked God, for we knew he was guiding us.” They went along side MV Kirkson, whose crew gave them food and told them the Tailor had sunk along the coast of Jamaica. 

It was an old sailing vessel converted into a motor and sailing ship, and part of the bottom of her had just dropped out, Mr Tatum explained. All the crew survived and sixty percent of her cargo had been salvaged.

She was loaded with bird eggs and turtles, and Capt Scott had run her aground to save as much as possible, he said.

Mr Tatum and Mr Bodden left that night to pick up the other men with the Lady Huggings, a motor vessel owned by the Jamaican Government. 
Its purpose was to look after the buoys, and the captain, Martin Ritch and Mate Lee Jervis, were both from Spot Bay, Cayman Brac.

“I guess I can say we were the only Caymanians to sail 130 miles in an open catboat. They normally just ran between here and Little Cayman. I don’t even know of anyone doing the trip between the Brac and Grand Cayman.”

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