"It's nasty out there — as we say, 'It's kicking butt,' " Harbormaster Joe Savino says, looking back over his shoulder as he cranks the wheel and nudges the 27-foot Boston Whaler back toward the sheltered harbor.

He's more concerned for his visitors than himself or the boat, which the port authority launched in June with a $200,000 federal Department of Homeland Security grant.

"It's basically unsinkable," Savino says. "You could fill it with water and it would still float. It's filled with foam."

Savino, 63, squints, then grins: "You'd get pretty wet, though."

For 16 years, he has been Bridgeport Harbor's top cop, overseeing its security and the safety of those who use it.

"We are basically responsible for everything that happens in Bridgeport Harbor," he says.

That's saying a lot.

Residents whose only view of Bridgeport Harbor is over the Jersey barriers on Interstate 95 may have no idea it's the Northeast's biggest banana port and an important oil terminal.

They may never stop to think that the two Bridgeport-Port Jefferson ferries that cross each other's paths 11 times a day might make tempting terrorist targets.

It's also home to Bridgeport Harbor Station — the power plant whose red-and-white, 498-foot smokestack is the harbor's de facto landmark — Derecktor Shipyards and an assortment of lobstermen, commercial anglers and recreational boaters.

It's a lot to keep tabs on, and the job is likely to get bigger, Savino says as he leads a tour of the harbor, nosing up Yellow Mill Channel and poking into Johnson's Creek.

He steers past the site of Steel Point: a gloomy, weed-choked lot wedged between the Pequonnock River and Yellow Mill, a long-delayed redevelopment project that promises to transform it into a thriving complex with apartments, shopping and marina.

On the other side of the harbor, Savino points out the former Remington Products factory next to Seaside Park, the proposed site of a high-speed ferry terminal that would serve Stamford and lower Manhattan.

In the gray distance, mid-Sound, cranes perch spider-like over a freighter, offloading coal onto a barge.

Savino works closely with Officer John Klesyk of the Police Department's marine unit. Between them, they command two patrol boats; a larger, 42-foot former Coast Guard utility boat; two 44-foot amphibian craft; a 14-foot Zodiac inflatable; and a small hovercraft, now up on blocks.

Both patrol boats — the harbormaster's and the Police Department's — are new, courtesy of Homeland Security grants.

The Port Authority obtained funding for its boat as part of a larger $3 million grant, announced in December 2003, to upgrade security in Bridgeport Harbor. Its enclosed cabin has heat and air conditioning — even windshield wipers — and is crammed with high-tech detection and navigational gear. The black-leather front seats are hydraulic, shock-absorbing and have lumbar support.

On deck, there's a winch and diver doors; assorted rescue equipment is stowed all around in hatches. Aft, a pair of hulking, turbo-charged 250-horsepower outboard engines can churn out speeds up to 50 knots — nearly 58 mph.

The new patrol boat replaces the previous craft, a used 21-foot Chris Craft donated by a periodontist.

"It's great for Bridgeport because we've always worked on hand-me-downs," Savino says.

The new craft is part of a wider effort to protect the nation's marine infrastructure, according to U.S. Rep. Christopher Shays, R-4, who helped secure the funding.

"As the home to one of the country's busiest car ferry services, Bridgeport Harbor is an important entry way for people and freight into our region, but that also means it's more vulnerable to terrorism," Shays said in a prepared statement. "Bridgeport Port Authority has made safety their top priority and we've had success working together to bring federal funding for their security needs."

Savino came into the $58,550-a-year harbormaster's job through a combination of circumstance and connections.

He served 27 years on the Bridgeport Police Department, entering its marine unit and eventually heading it.

During his time in uniform, he was the driver for Mayor Tom Bucci. Bucci appointed Savino as harbormaster in 1990. It wasn't something he went looking for, he says.

"You end up in places you never think you'd end up in," he says. "I kind of took to it."

Savino — sturdy, alert and weathered, with hair going white and an easy laugh — grew up in the city's Hollow neighborhood. He spent lots of time during his younger years on the Sound or in the harbor. His father was a lobster boat worker and an avid recreational fisherman.

"Our going out was learning to row the rowboat so he could fish," says Savino, who still lives in Bridgeport with his wife. He has two grown children.

As harbormaster, Savino says he tries to spend as much time as possible on the water, checking for trouble at the oil terminals or under the highway embankments. Sometimes he escorts the ferry.

"I try to get out every day. I'd much rather be out here than in my office shuffling papers," he says.

Not all of the problems at the harbor are obvious to the naked eye. Savino points out the Cilco Terminal off Seaview Avenue, where boats offload bananas.

"The bananas that come here go all over the Northeast," he says. With the bananas, stowaways and other contraband can arrive.

"When we first started we used to get a lot of cocaine," Savino says. State Police divers used to check incoming banana ships, but the ships' captains have become more diligent, reporting anything suspicious.

"They don't want the trouble," he said.

Operations kick into high gear when the federal government boosts the marine security — or MarSec — level. When that happens, patrols are out 24 hours a day, seven days a week, he says.

"Spring of this year, we were at MarSec level two: our unit was on, State Police were here, the National Guard was here," he says. "The biggest concern was obviously the passenger ferries."

Savino also is called to help in emergencies. Anglers fishing illegally on the breakwater routinely get stranded there when the tide rises. It can get hairy scooping them out — bringing the boat broadside with the waves, the hull slapping up against the rocks.

"People take their kids out there and they get stuck out there," Savino says.

In October, the port authority's patrol boat was called into service to rescue some windsurfers who'd gone out in a storm off Long Beach in Stratford. The gusts were strong enough to carry one of the windsurfers 30 feet in the air before dropping him back into the roiling waters with a separated shoulder. When help arrived — Savino was off and Klesyk was at the helm — both windsurfers were in the early stages of hypothermia, even though they were wearing wetsuits.

"It was a very dangerous day," Savino says. "You get accustomed to dealing with them, but the fear thing is always in the back of your mind."