I guess you could say it’s in my blood.

There was the Coast Guard-approved course, then finding a boat less than 50 tons but over 32 tons to build time to upgrade my license; learning about marine diesel engines … figuring out the differences between operating a small boat for pleasure and a large boat for profit.
Three months on a 100-foot crewboat out of Texas nearly
killed the dream: a first captain who was a perpetually angry dry dunk, a
management culture that feared and openly despised its employees … it was a
useful learning experience, but not a lot of fun.
This spring I hit the road and traveled to the heart of
workboat country – Southwest Louisiana. Within three days I had two job offers
(and have received two more in the three weeks since). At the same time, three
other captains I used to work with running fishing trips and eco-tours in South
Texas also landed workboat jobs here.
The work is out there for anyone willing to do some research
and invest a little shoe leather.
Today I’m third captain on a 145-foot fast supply vessel
working as a field boat on the outer continental shelf. We normally come back
to the dock in Morgan City, Louisiana, once a week for about 24 hours I'm relief master (second captain) on a 165-foot fast support vessel working out of Port Fourchon, Louisiana.
This, then, is my running commentary on this fascinating
industry. It will, no doubt, be a chronicle of my greenhorn mistakes as well as
any success I might find. It is the point of view and impressions of one person
who is not an expert and does not have a global view of offshore marine
transportation.
I may not always be very specific, and names sometimes will
be changed to protect the innocent (or ambiguously guilty). I’ll re-tell some
stories I hear from others, and already I’m starting to understand that
wheelhouse stories are kind of like fishing stories: I can’t vouch for their
veracity if I wasn’t there.
Otherwise, I am not making this shit up.