Rough seas pushed by strong southwest winds sunk Delcambre shrimper George Romero’s boat 3 hours before sunrise Aug. 10, leaving him to fend for himself as he drifted east along the Gulf Coast wearing an inflatable PFD.
High winds from the same direction two days later prompted Lorrie Ardoin of Lafayette, the charter boat captain who rescued Romero, to try inside waters along Southwest Pass. If he brings three clients to near-offshore waters that morning, he never sees the survivor.
“I definitely think God put me in that place that day,” Ardoin said. “It’s definitely a miracle for that guy he’s still alive.”
Ardoin, 56, won’t get an argument from Niles Romero of Abbeville, Romero’s grateful and thankful son, who said, “That flotation device saved his life. It was a miracle start to finish.”
Without food or water, barefoot and in his boxers, Romero drifted, walked, waded or swam an estimated 19 miles from 3 a.m. Thursday to 8:30 a.m. Saturday. He believed — as tired and somewhat disoriented as he was — he could reach an old game warden’s camp along Bayou Fearman on the State Wildlife Refuge.
Getting attention
Romero was in the Horseshoe, moving 50 yards at a time to conserve energy, a few hours after sunrise Saturday. It’s an area he fished with gill nets decades ago.
“I heard something. When I turned around I saw an outboard running. Man, I started splashing water, waving,” Romero said, while resting in a recliner in the comfort of his home. “Definitely a sight for sore eyes when I saw him whip his boat around and come straight toward me.”
He put his palms together and raised his arms in prayer.
Ardoin, a retired teacher and basketball coach at Abbeville High School, who has become a successful fishing guide since 2019, always scans the water and horizon looking for birds diving over shrimp.
“I’m looking. I’m looking. I said, Oh my God! That’s a man waving his arms!’ I started driving to him. He was raising his arms like, ‘Thank you God!” he said. “When I get to him, he was very coherent. As he gets on the boat, I said, ‘Are you OK?’ He’s like I was his best partner.”
Romero said, “The first thing he told me, he said, ‘Man, you are my hero. I said, ‘Bull—-! No. You’re my hero.’ ”
He drank six bottles of water and two more on the way to Cypremort Point, where Ardoin’s friend, Vince Palumbo, picked him up and took him to Delcambre.
Our Pride, a 52-foot long wooden shrimp boat Romero rebuilt and bought from a friend after it sank during Hurricane Rita, sank for the last time and broke up near the mouth of Freshwater Bayou.
No time to call
Romero’s family was unaware anything was amiss throughout the ordeal. Romero, who ran Vincent’s Slaughterhouse for 28 years in Erath, habitually went out 4, 5 days before returning home. They know he’ll call if he gets in trouble.
Romero had no time to call or broadcast a mayday. Around 3 a.m., while he had the nets down, 4- to 5-foot waves proved to be the boat’s undoing. He blames himself on several fronts.
“I shouldn’t have been pushing there in the first place,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been pushing in that weather.”
Wave after wave bashed the boat, bashed him, knocked his eyeglasses off. He rushed inside to get his phone but a wave crashed through the door and knocked him into the shower. He climbed atop the cabin.
Sinking rapidly
As the boat floundered and rolled wildly, he jumped in. Then a skimmer’s frame that “bogged down in the mud” punched a hole below the water line. Our Pride, Romero’s pride and joy, a vessel that brought so many shrimp to people, went under in less than a minute.
“It sank very rapidly,” he said. “She went down upright until she hit the bottom. It started bumping and bouncing again. That’s when the boat started coming apart.”
He grabbed a 15×15 piece of the back deck when a wave pushed it to him. It became an impromptu raft that day and first full night on the water. He pried the ice chest lid from underneath for a crude lean-to that also served as a makeshift sail to help southwest winds push him north and east.
Staying in the fight
Romero, whose 64th birthday is Nov. 16, said he briefly lost hope after a large crew boat, one of several he saw within 440 yards, chugged past him in Southwest Pass. For a split second, it crossed his mind he was going to die.
“I had a little inclination to step into the deep channel and poppin’ the clip on the life jacket,” he said, somberly, noting he was exhausted and couldn’t have swam 20 yards. “Then I said, ‘Man, I’ve got some beautiful grandchildren who I love and need to go see.’ I said, ‘I’m not going down without a fight!’”
Niles and Heidi Romero’s three children and Chase and Jonica Romero’s young twins still have a paternal grandfather to hug thanks to the PFD he was wearing. Niles bought it online for his dad two years ago from Academy Sports + Outdoors, the elder Romero said.
“If I ever go out at night (on the boat) or it’s rough, I wear one,” he said. “I recommend the inflatable life jacket to anyone. Those things are great, wonderful and saved my life.”