Never Let the Spiders Take Over the Bridge
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The Bridge of Der Admiral HassenpfefferI know exactly what this is like:
Authorities in the U.S. territory of Guam have turned away a ship after thousands of spiders overflowed from its cargo.
The Guam Department of Agriculture says hundreds of large spiders and thousands of smaller ones were seen when stevedores began offloading insulation and beams for housing units from the ship, the M.V. Altavia.
The cargo was returned to the ship, and the Agriculture Department on Friday ordered that the ship not be allowed to dock. It was last ported in South Korea.
Agriculture officials say they don't know what type of spiders were on the ship, but said it's a type that isn't normally found on the island. They said there was concern the spiders could damage Guam's environment.
The ship was carrying housing units and accessories for a work force village expected to house up to 18,000 temporary workers.
Spiders? Well, that's better than rats or beavers, I guess. I've fought infestations of both.
The rat infestation of the Admiral Hassenpfeffer was fairly well understood to be a problem with the lower decks. The rats used the areas below the waterline to create their own miniature society, and they elected their own parliament. That allowed them to tax their rat constituents and build an armed assault force which attacked us on the night of April 18, 2009. I fought them off, spectacularly, of course, but they were able to seize the bridge for a few hours. We were isolated in the forward turret, unable to breathe in the closed confines, when, suddenly, I had an idea.
My best ideas are snap decisions made under moderate duress. I sprang into action, grabbing a shotgun, a fishing net, and twenty feet of coiled rope. Peej followed me because I'm a leader, and Peej needs to be led, otherwise he comes up with ridiculous ideas like calling for help and using cheese to lure the rats away from the ship's controls.
I had Miranda find some of the hairspray that Babs Worthington usually leaves on board--Aqua Net, of course. Once Miranda was able to fashion a flamethrower from the Aqua Net by practicing on the side of the lifeboat, we were ready for a counterattack.
I kicked open the door to the bridge and saw rats teeming over everything. Resisting my first urge to blast them, because that would have blasted out the windows and the controls to the ship, I howled at them to get their attention and threw the net into their midst. They sat there, dumb little animals that they are, and some even started gnawing at the net. I laugh and yanked it back, pulling confused rats along with it. Once we had the net pulled back out onto the rear deck, Miranda doused it with flames and Peej kicked burning rats into the water.
"One more time," I said, and everyone watched as I bravely bounded back up the stairs to the deck and threw the still-smoldering net onto the rats. I dragged a few dozen of them back down the stairs and we repeated our macabre dance with the evil bastards. One of them had gnawed on my laptop, creating several weeks of limited or no blogging, which at that time didn't really matter because I haven't ever even really started to blog yet. I sensed a general feeling of indignation from the rats, as if they were entitled to take over the vessel and do whatever they wished with it. We were vulnerable, after all. Miranda and Peej and I were the skeleton crew and we should never have ventured out of St. Thomas without more help on board, besides the men who worked in the engine room who usually just ignore us.
I remember being excited and disgusted at the same time. It was hilarious fun to set rats on fire, but getting them out of my pantleg wasn't so much fun. They were crazy with fear, but managed to maintain unit discipline. Even with my net and my shattered nerves and my fierce kicking, it could very easily have gone the other way. In battle, you are always a moment away from the irresistible tide of defeat before the gnashing teeth of a primitive enemy.
It didn't go their way because of the net, and this tactic seemed to be working. We dragged rats down to the main deck and set them on fire and then kicked them into the water. The wake of the vessel, which was traveling south-southwest at seven knots, was littered with little burning rats in the water. Inhumane? Absolutely. I do not care a fig for militant rats who have been charged with taking over my vessel.
Now, common sense should tell you that we had to stop using the net once it burned up. We had a spare fishing net, but it was being used to hold stuffed animals over Miranda's bunk--stuffed animals dressed like members of the Cure, of course.
I changed our tactics--I am a great leader, after all, and switching to balls of duct tape was practically the work of a genius. I would make a ball of duct tape on the end of a broom handle, grab up a few rats, and then Miranda would set them on fire while Peej looked on in horror.
This went on for days until we cleared the ship. I've also fought off a small beaver infestation, but that was because we were tied up in fresh water for a while and I neglected to put out traps. That one was on me, not the beavers.



















