While it might seem more at home in the recently renamed Gulf of America, each week a part of Mississippi, the Norwegian Cruise Line (NCL) ship, MS Pride of America, pictured above, sails weekly between the islands of Oahu, Maui, Kauai, and the big island of Hawaii. It’s a part of Mississippi because it was built, to a large degree, on our coast.
The vessel is the only U.S.-built and U.S.-flagged cruise ship in 50 years. Originally conceived under “Project America,” a scheme intended to build a new U.S.-flagged cruise line, Litton-Ingalls Shipyard in Pascagoula was contracted to build two large cruise ships. The keel for the first was laid in 1998; however, the original contracting company, American Classic Voyages, went bankrupt in 2001 when the ship was only about 40% complete. No doubt some tradesman reading this newspaper, a welder, a pipefitter, an electrician, etc., had a hand in its construction up to that point.
Then the history of the ship, yet unnamed, took a captivating turn. Ingalls, which specializes in building ships for the U.S. Navy, had no interest in completing it, so it was sold to NCL which had it towed to a shipyard in Bremerhaven, Germany, for completion. Incidentally, Bremerhaven happens to be the first German port that I ever stepped ashore in.
Completed in 2005 and christened in Manhattan, New York, as the “Pride of America,” the ship sailed through the Panama Canal to Hawaii and has run weekly roundtrip cruises of the islands from Honolulu ever since. These cruises are extremely popular and reflect the exponential growth of the cruise industry in the last decade. For me, its success is indicative of two things: the enduring fascination that people have for the sea, and the related success of the cruise ship business in America and all over the world. Unfortunately, Mississippi has been left out of the boom, with the closest points of cruise ship embarkation being Mobile, New Orleans, and Galveston.
While some might remember the several Carnival Cruise Line ships (MS Valor, Freedom, etc.) that were laid up to offload crew members at the Port of Gulfport during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, the only cruise ship ever permanently docked at Gulfport was the “Pride of Mississippi” which later served as the Copa Casino gambling ship. It, too, had an interesting past.
Originally a transatlantic passenger liner for the Holland American Line, sailing under the name, SS Ryndam, it ferried passengers between the United States and Europe for many years. In 1988, after being retired from ocean service and while onshore gambling was still prohibited in Mississippi, it was bought by gambling interests on the coast and renamed the “Pride of Mississippi.” On day trips, those with money to lose could load up, sail outside the five-mile limit, and gamble until their heart’s content or pockets were empty. This business model apparently failed, however, because by 1991, the ship had been renamed the “Pride of Galveston” and was operating as a gambling ship out of Texas. Then, in 1993, Mississippi legalized dockside gambling, and the “Pride of Galveston” was towed back to Gulfport where it was permanently moored as the Copa Casino. Eventually, the aging vessel was replaced by a barge casino which, as I remember, was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. The original ship (Ryndam, aka Pride of Mississippi, aka Pride of Galveston, aka Copa Casino) was then sold for scrap. While being towed to India for dismantling in 2003, it sank in a storm off the coast of the Dominican Republic. There must be a moral to this long tale, but it escapes me.
Several people I’ve talked to lately have been going to the coast, primarily to visit the new Buc-ees in Pass Christian. At 74,000 square feet, it’s second only to the largest one in Luling, Texas, and features 126 gas pumps, 165 bathroom stalls, ginormous barbeque brisket sandwiches, and 200 union jobs, not to mention “Bucky Nuggets.” That’s all very impressive, but I go to the coast for other reasons. I love to look at the water, to walk on the beach, to feel the sand between my toes, to watch the sandpipers flit ahead of the gentle waves, to hear the sea gulls calling to each other overhead. It’s almost as if I have no choice – a compulsion, an urge, an impulse, an obsession?
Have you ever wondered what fuels that eternal allure that many of us feel toward the sea? What causes that timeless attraction? I know you have felt it – the Siren call of the sea. Even our polluted, landlocked, Mississippi Sound, essentially neutered by that ring of offshore islands, beckons us. Not convinced? Try to get through the Mobile tunnel on a hot summer weekend and tell me there’s no attraction to the sea. Orange Beach is practically in our back yards. I suppose that evolutionists might say that such a feeling is only a primordial, existential urge to return from whence we came, but it’s real.
The poets, especially the Romantics, were divided on the merits of the sea. Percy Shelly, for example, referred to it as “the slimy caverns of the populus deep.” Shelly, ironically, was drowned in a sailboat accident off Naples in 1822 when he was only twenty-nine. Much earlier, Shakespeare spoke of the sea’s power to transform and to blend beauty with death: “Full fathom five thy father lies, of his bones are coral made, those are pearls that were his eyes” (“The Tempest,” Act 1, Scene 2). The Bible, while containing over 300 references to the sea, including the cautionary tale of Jonah in the belly of the whale, perhaps reflecting the worldview of essentially a non-seagoing people, looks forward to a time when there will be no more sea: “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more” (Revelation 1:1)
I’ve recently read where Lumberton, my hometown, has a new mayor. He’s a native of that fair city, a graduate of its schools (Class of 1983) and, like me, a retired naval officer. I wish him well and plan to visit him briefly once the dust settles. I’m going to drop by, introduce myself, learn about his plans for the town, spin a few sea stories, and then I’m going to ask him, point blank, if he ever feels “it” like I do? “It,” of course, is the call of the sea - the unexplainable, inexplicable, need to pack up and say “goodbye,” the need to go beyond where the green water turns to blue, that restless itch which cannot be scratched, the incessant longing to see over the far horizon.
As I’m writing this, I’m watching the parade marking the 250th anniversary of the U.S. Army on television, and it fills me with pride – pride that I was blessed to serve my country and that my son, Benjy, spent five years on active duty as a paratrooper in the Army’s 82nd Airborne Division. I know the parade was controversial, but in my humble opinion, any criticism is feckless unless those objecting have some skin in the game. While, overall, cruising vacations have become very popular over the past few years, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Hawaiian ship, “Pride of America,” has profited from the patriotic implications of its name. Depending upon their routes, cruise ships often take on “personalities.” If they frequently run short 4-day trips, you can expect the younger, more progressive crowd with children. If the cruise is 7 days or more, expect an older, more sedate and conservative group of shipmates.
Although it’s a “bus driver’s holiday” for me, I still love to go to sea, and I take as many vacation cruises as I can work out. NCL has a nice two-week trip out of New Orleans in February 2026 that calls on Colombia and Panama, as well as the usual Caribbean ports. I need to make up my mind because, like me, many others are attracted to the sea, and berths are filling up fast. Globally, there are around 323 cruise ships in service, and over 19 million American passengers set sail in 2024. The average capacity of each of these ships is around 3,000; although the largest, the “Icon of the Seas,” launched last year, can carry 7,600. Port Canaveral, Florida, is now the world’s busiest cruise port, embarking over 4 million passengers in 2022. Last year, the Port of Mobile boarded 120,000 passengers, but Carnival, the only cruise line serving the city, only sails from there during the months of October through March.
One of the things I like to do on a cruise, other than sleep, eat, read, and otherwise waste time, is to sit in my deck chair and speculate why other cruisers are there. If you’ve read the book, “Ship of Fools” (1962), by Katherine Ann Porter, or seen the later movie, you are sensitive to the intrigue and true-life stories often playing out before your eyes. I wonder, too, about the chaos that would ensue should the ship sink. About ten years ago, most cruise ships stopped actual emergency musters at lifeboat stations, and now passengers just meet in the lounge or some other designated spot to have their name checked off on a computer. In addition, so many cruisers today are elderly, with mobility limited by their walkers, wheelchairs, and scooters.
When I’m planning my own cruises, I like to visit the online chat rooms that most cruise lines have available. You can pick up some valuable information as well as be amazed at some of the questions that first time cruisers ask. For example, here are some I saw today on a popular website along with my annotated but unpublished responses:
1. Will the ship wait for me if I’m late returning from an excursion ashore? (No, you will become what is known as a “pier runner and waver”).
2. Should I book an interior cabin because it’s so much cheaper? (No. If you are the least claustrophobic, you will freak out in a few days).
3. Should I pay extra for the medical insurance that will transfer me back to the States for treatment? (Yes, unless you want to die alone in some third-world country hospital).
4. Should I tip my cabin attendant? (Yes, if you ever want clean sheets and towels).
5. If I tend toward sea sickness, in what part of the ship should I try and book my cabin? (Preferably amidships, as low to the waterline of the ship as possible).
6. How many entrees can I order at each meal in the main dining room? (Two, then you pay for the third – but that’s a lot of food).
7. Should I take my passport? (Yes, see #3 above).
Sooner or later, however, it all must come to an end. The Greek poet, Homer, tells of his hero, Odysseus, finally getting home to Ithaca twenty years after the Trojan War. He’s tired of wandering over the face of the earth, but a prophet, Tiresias, tells him that he has one more thing to do before he can find peace. “You must take up your oar, put it on your shoulder, and walk inland until you find a place where no one knows the ocean or salt. When a stranger mistakes your oar for a winnowing fan, plant it in the ground and make a sacrifice to Poseidon, the god of the sea. Only then will your trials end.” The moral of the tale:
There’s a time to wander and a time to rest.
Even the restless sailor must one day become the farmer.
To make peace with the gods, you must make peace with yourself.
Light a candle for me.
