Don’t Worry, Buddy, You’re Not Going Back

“The man who has experienced shipwreck shudders even at a calm sea.”

— Ovid

Black Tickle, on the coast of Labrador, was one of the most prolific cod fishing areas on the east coast of Canada in 1974.

Vessels from all areas of Newfoundland and Labrador, along with some from Quebec, would congregate there at certain times of the year, and fishermen could always depend on good catch rates. In fact, in the era of mainly gillnet fishing, one of the biggest problems was the large amount of fishing gear in the water, so large that it would often get tangled in someone else’s nets.

Like others from Labrador, the four-man crew of the Labrador Foam out of L’Anse-au-Loup would usually finish their season spending the last six or eight weeks in the Black Tickle area. In fact, Captain Eric O’Brien, along with his brother Elzear O’Brien, their cousin Malachi Normore, and Michael “Mike” Cabot, all from L’Anse-au-Loup, followed a routine in those days. Marcel O’Brien, brother of Eric and Elzear, also fished with his brothers from time to time, saying they would routinely start their season in Port au Choix and then move to the Strait of Belle Isle near Blanc Sablon on the Labrador–Quebec border.

“And finally, in early September, they would go to Black Tickle and fish until the end of the season, usually in late October or early November,” Marcel remembers.

On the morning of Wednesday, October 2, 1974, the captain and crew of the Labrador Foam enjoyed a hearty breakfast before the start of another hard day’s work. It was a calm and clear morning, so the crew got up extra early to get a head start on what promised to be a really good day fishing.

Eric O’Brien

A little after 5:00 a.m., Eric went to the wheelhouse and carried out routine checks such as weather forecasts and sea states, while Elzear, Mike, and Malachi donned their fishing gear and went on deck to get ready to haul nets that had soaked all night.

There was an air of pleasant expectation for a good fishing day among the crew of mostly young men. Eric was just twenty-seven at the time. His older brother Elzear and cousin Malachi were also part owners of the enterprise. Mike, who was just twenty-five, was a good friend. “Mikey,” as he was known, was married and the father of three daughters and two sons.

The Labrador Foam was working on a favourite fishing ground known as the “Saddles,” and as always when an area is known for good fishing, a lot of boats congregated in that region. For gillnetters, that presents a problem. When too many fishermen vie for the same piece of fishing ground, nets get set indiscriminately, often some on top or across nets belonging to other vessels.

Eric O’Brien with his son Colin.

Everything was going well for the crew of the Labrador Foam until ten thirty that morning. The crew was winching in a net, when suddenly the linnet stopped coming over the side.

In retrospect, it seemed another boat had set gear on top of nets belonging to the Labrador Foam, and that meant they were hauling up a tangled mess of linnet from two or more nets. To make matters worse, the men figured the mesh had become snarled around the propeller of their boat.

All four men proceeded to carry out a standard practice of tugging and pulling from different angles to try and free the net. To do that, they all stood on the stern counter and leaned out over a three-feet-high railing to haul from various angles.

After yanking the nets this way and that way for several minutes, the strain of four hefty fishermen pulling on the linnet proved too much for the railing, and it cracked and broke. Elzear let go of the rail when he heard the cracking sound and fell back on the deck. Mike, Eric, and Malachi had nothing to grab to break their fall and suddenly found themselves in the cold waters of the Labrador Sea.

In conversation with the he Navigator magazine in 2002, Eric said he was faced with an additional worry.

“Some of the net was on board before the rest got hooked on the prop, and when I fell I must have accidentally hauled some of that down off the deck on top of me. Even the buttons on my rubber clothes were hooked up in the linnet,” he said.

Meanwhile, Elzear quickly got a life ring over the stern. Eric managed to grab the ring, and then Elzear managed to lower a gaff to Malachi. Holding on to Eric with one hand, Malachi stretched as far as he could to try and reach Mike with the gaff so they could haul him closer to the boat, but Mike was unresponsive.

“We don’t know what happened—we don’t know if he got injured falling over or what, but he just seemed unaware of anything going on—it was like he was in a trance,” Eric recalled.

All three men watched in amazement as they looked at Mike slowly sink beneath the surface.

“He never made a murmur—his arms were stretched out in front of him, his cap floated away, and then he was gone—that’s the last we saw of him,” Eric said.

Meanwhile, back on board the Labrador Foam, Elzear knew that he needed help to save his brother and Malachi. He was aware that the cold water was rapidly sapping their strength, and hauling them up over the stern of a fifty-foot longliner was not going to be easy. He made a quick call on the VHF, explaining that there were men overboard and he needed help.

Labrador Foam on dock.

Fortunately, brothers Hayward and Clarence Normore, along with crew member Jack Buckle on board the Northern Fisher, heard the call and wasted no time springing into action. Also from L’Anse-au-Loup, the Normores and Jack were friends of the Labrador Foam’s crew, and they didn’t bother setting back the gear they were hauling. They quickly cut the ropes with a knife and let it go.

The Northern Fisher was a couple of miles away and would take about fifteen minutes to arrive. Aware that spending fifteen or more minutes in the icy October waters off Labrador could be disastrous, Elzear worked frantically to try and get Malachi and his brother on board, but that almost proved fatal for Eric.

“We tried by having Malachi stand on my shoulders to get as much reach as possible, but that would drive me under water, so that didn’t work too good,” Eric explained, adding that he could feel his strength waning and hypothermia setting in.

“It seemed like I was getting warmer and that everything was just fine,” he said, although he was aware that his feelings were a tell-tale sign that his time was running out.

Steaming alongside and without even tying their boat onto the Labrador Foam, Hayward, Clarence, and Jack jumped on board their friends’ vessel, and with four sets of strong arms operating at the same time, it wasn’t long before Malachi was back on deck.

Getting Eric on board was not so easy. Still tangled in the linnet and now almost delirious, Eric was unable to help himself. Tangled in twine, combined with soaked clothing and boots filled with water, hauling him in was like hauling up a small whale.

All four men on board hauled on the linnet, and finally Eric was close enough to reach. Jack Buckle, a big, strong man, reached down and grabbed Eric’s arm with one hand and got his other hand hooked under Eric’s belt.

Mostly dazed but still somewhat aware of what was happening, Eric said, “Don’t let me go, Jack.”

“Don’t worry, buddy, you’re not goin’ back,” said Jack as he gave one last mighty tug that brought Eric up over the stern onto the deck. Eric joked afterwards that he could see the print of Jack’s fingers on his arm a week later.

Although he was safely on board, Eric recalled that he wasn’t in as good a condition as he thought. “I stood up and tried to walk but fell headlong.”

Clarence walked and dragged Eric to the galley, and after getting him wrapped in blankets, he poured Eric a small shot of whisky.

“I felt my strength coming back right away. It was funny—it was like I was drunk and the whisky sobered me up. It’s supposed to be the other way around, isn’t it?”

Eric and Malachi were physically fine within several hours, but the reality that Mike was gone weighed terribly heavy on their hearts.

A search for Mike Cabot’s body was unsuccessful.

Author’s note: Thanks to Marcel O’Brien for his help in putting this story together. His brother Eric passed away in 2004.