The End of the Hunt

Abigail's ship sunk at a pier in Belize. Nice oil slick... courtesy of two hand held rocket shots. We found one survivor on board.


We sail northeast toward Belize, the wind at our backs. Loco has cold beer in our hands before we collapse against the gunwales. The beer is the best I have ever had, cold and refreshing. I can't imagine a beer tasting better even if I had just scaled Everest. The only thing better would be... ahhh and there it is, a Walker. Hand rolled by our hosts. From Lou's stash I would imagine.

"It is good that Blanco finds you, eh?" Loco says as he smiles and nods. He lights and then takes a long draw off of the Walker. He passes it to Lou.
"He look for you for hours. I help him." Loco tips his beer toward the radio... "Then we hear you radio call."
Lou lets out a long stream of smoke and passes the walker to Jerry, who takes a long draw.
"Man, Whitey, am I glad you were out there." He talks while he holds in his hit... at true professional. He gets a toothy grin out of Blanco.
"How did you find us." I take the Walker and hit it.
"eSmoke." Blanco wiggles his finger at the horizon. "Black esmoke I see."
Lou nods and smiles, taking a pull of his beer. "Yeah, Jake here lit that ship up with a couple of rockets Bear had on his big boat." He holds his beer with two hands and looks off over the water. "It was a helluva fight."

We are heading up the coast to the jungles of Belize in the direction that Blanco had seen our foe travelling. As we approach landfall, we can see Abigail's crippled ship sinking in the shallows. When we finally came up on it we realize that it had made it to a make-shift dock before it went down on its starboard side.
We drop the sails and coast in. Blanco brings us up on her stern so we can edge into the dock they landed on.
Lou is on the bow with the field glasses as we approach.
"Oh shit, Jake, you nailed her good. I wonder how the hell it made it this far?"
He sweeps the ship with the glasses, "No one on deck." He turns to us, "Guess we don't have to worry about that fucking gun any more."

We land the Morgan to the east side of the dock and tie off.
"Whitey, you got any weapons on board?"
Blanco nods, "Pistola."
He pulls the pistol from a cubby under his seat.
"Great, a shotgun and a pistol." Lou motions to Blanco, "Hand me that revolver, Whitey."
"Don't forget about this." Jerry holds up the speargun with two more shots.

The five of us step off the boat. Lou pulls the cylinder on the pistol and checks the rounds, then pops it back into place. "Jerry, give Whitey that speargun."
Jerry hands the weapon over and Blanco loads it with a quick hand.
Lou tucks the pistol in his belt.
"Me and Whitey will take the jungle. If they made it off the boat I can probably track them. You three see if there is anyone left on board."

With that he and Blanco skulk off toward the bush and we head toward the boat. It is hard to negotiate with the deck tipped sideways, but we manage to make it to the pilothouse on the port side. The hatch is hanging open, so we step carefully inside, Loco first with his gun at the ready. He motions for us to follow. The pilothouse is peppered with holes from Lou's rifle and the armor penetrating rounds. The rest is a series of dimples from the rounds of other weapons unable to penetrate the bulkheads.
The deck is awash with blood. There are two bodies in here, floating down by the sunken starboard side in mix of seawater and blood. We slip and slide, trying to make our way along the deck to the ladder that leads below deck.

"The crews quarters are down this ladder." Jerry whispers.
The old ships creaks and groans as the old metal deals with the varied support of the sea floor. We lean heavily on the stair rail as we creep down the steps and onto the lower deck. We are walking on the bulkheads, and as we come to a doorway, I step over and then open it. Blanco stays on the other side of the opening and then tips in with the shotgun.
We go on this way for the three compartments on this side of the ship... seeing nothing. At the end of the three rooms is a passageway that leads to the starboard side of the ship. It is a good ten foot drop and then water. I can see something floating in the blackness.
"I think I see another body."

We all look at each other, knowing that none of us want to go any further in this investigation. If there are any pirates still alive... who cares. They tried to kill us. Let them go on their way. Without a word being spoken, we all seem to agree that we will turn back and get off this ship.
"Let's get out of here."
Jerry, who is trailing the group, turns to lead us out. Just then I hear something.
"Wait... Jerry, hold on."
We all stop and are silent. There is a noise, tapping or knocking.
"There... did you hear that?"
"It is just ratas o el agua."
Jerry looks at me, "Just rats or the water."
"I actually got that, but thanks."
In the split second of silence as we turned to depart, a voice undeniably American, called out.
"Help me... please."
We have stopped now and listen intently. Seconds pass.
"Hello... are you still there. HELP ME."

We all look at each other. Yes, we all heard that. I turn and look down at the water that leads to the starboard side of the ship.
"HEY, WHERE ARE YOU?"
There is silence, and then we hear the voice choking, "I... I don't know."
Crap. I turn and now start to shimmy down the vertical passageway to the sunken starboard side of the ship. I stop.
"Jerry, there was a flashlight in a holder just inside the pilothouse. Go and grab it, okay?"
I hear him step out quickly.
"Senior Jake, is there anything I can do to help you?"
"Yeah, when Jerry gets back with the flashlight, you can bring it on down. Jerry is all shot up and doesn't need to be climbing down here."

Moments pass. I make my way down into the murky water and find my footing on the starboard compartment bulkhead. I can hear the voice down a passageway that is half underwater.
"Hey... can you make your way toward me?"
There is the sound of coughing... choking.
"I'm afraid... I'm afraid not. I am tied up down here."
As he speaks, Loco makes his way down next to me, flashlight in one hand, shotgun in the other. Both are being held over his head. I take the flashlight from Loco and shine it down the short passage. There is a bulkhead at the end, and a door hanging down and open.

"Everything okay down there?" Jerry's voice echoes down the passage now behind us.
"Yeah, we need to make it into a compartment ahead." I shine the light ahead of me, "You still there, pal?"
"Hurry."
I make it to the door, chest deep in water, with Loco in tow. Shining the light up into the compartment, I can see that it goes up and then in. I hand Loco the light and heave myself out of the water and up into the doorway. Once I get a purchase, I reach for the light and make room for Loco.

We both look into the compartment, playing the shaft of light off the bulkheads and support beams. There is no one here, just water and cabinets and a few work tables bolted to the floor.
"Hello?" The sound echoes in the waterfilled room.
The voice startles us. I shine the light to where I think it came from.
"Where are you? I can't see you."
"There isn't much to see, I'm afraid. I am bound to this beam, and my face us just above the water."
I hand the flashlight to Loco and then slip into the water. My feet find a submerged work table the must be bolted to the deck. I keep one hand on the floor, now verticle, and walk to the edge.

Ahead of me, in the shadows of the flashlight beam, is a support beam that is partially submerged. Where it meets the water it is wrapped with duct tape. I manage to make it to the beam, waist deep in water, and I see a face.
"Do yo think you might be able to unwrap me from this beam. The water seems to be rising and I don't think I can hold my breath until the tide goes back out."
In front of me is a face straining to stay out of the water. He is bound with duct tape to the beam, and is craning his neck to keep his face is the air.
"Can you take my glasses. I don't want to lose them in here."

It takes a good ten minutes to get him loose. I am thankful it is just duct tape and not handcuffs or zip ties. We don't have tools down here and certainly don't feel like searching this shithole looking for a way to free him.
He is stiff and moving is not easy.
"How long have you been tied up down here?"
"A couple of days. I was taken prisoner off of the coast of Guatamala. I was on a working holiday and pirates took our boat. They took me and tied me up down here, asking a lot of questions of things I don't know about."

We all manage to make it up and off the boat. Our rescued captive seems relieved. He is not dressed for the Caribbean, more for a mid-west college campus. Button up shirt and slacks. He is even wearing dress shoes.
I am about to question him in depth about him being here when we hear gunshots, three of them somewhere in the triple terrace jungle away from the beach.
"The PIRATES." Our friend hits the deck, then scrambles for the safety of the Morgan. "Those men killed Arthur. They will kill all of us."
"Hey, relax buddy, that is my friend Lou just taking care of business most likely."

We retreat to the Morgan, where our little friend uses the head and partakes in our catered food and beer. He is standing in the cabin door when Lou and Blanco return.
"Hey, who's the nerd?" Lou uses his pistol to point out our guest.
"I'm not a NERD, thank you very much." The guys says through a mouthful of sandwich. He eats like he was starving. It turns out that he hadn't been fed since his capture.
"What were you shooting at out there?" I ask as Lou steps onto the Morgan.
"I was putting one of those pricks out of his misery. Bugs were getting to him already and he wasn't quite dead yet. His buddy was done, though... shot right through the chest. I don't know how he made it that far. The other guy must have carried him, shot up leg slowed him down."
"So... you killed him?" Our guest stops eating his sandwich, aghast at the murder that has surrounded him these past days.
"Yep. Its one of those "Him or Me" situations you hear all about."
"So he tried to kill you first?"
Lou looks at me, then Jerry and Loco. "Who the fuck is this guy? YEAH I killed him. You're next, you little fucker, if you don't shut the hell up."
With a raised brow, the little guy sets down what is left of his sandwich and wipes his hand on his wet slacks.
"I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot."
"No shit."
"Yes, well, I appreciate your timely rescue. I heard a tremendous battle going on around me earlier in the day. Just be glad those gentlemen aren't around to cause anymore trouble."
Lou once again looks at all of us, and we all trade glances ourselves."At any rate... " the little guy continues, "I am in your debt."
He holds out his hand, "Let me introduce myself... Justin Zildgen at your service."

Knights in White Satin

I rush into the salon to find Jerry standing over Abigail... her eyes open but not seeing. It doesn't hit me that I am the one that killed her. I am too concerned with the fact that we will are living a bad remake of Titanic right here, right now.
"Jerry, we gotta get out of here."
I rush through the salon and down the stairwell to the crew's quarters. There is a good two feet of water in here now rushing in through the engine room. The port engine is still running strong, but has seawater lapping at its mounts. I try to close the door but the water pouring through... it fights me. I push with all my might and manage to squeeze it closed and throw the handle to latch it. The water has stopped rushing in, but there is no comfort in this. I know there are probably four more holes just like this one in her side that are uncontained.
I turn to face the emergency cabinet I remembered. I yank it open and pull three life vests and a locator beacon. There is also a canister with a flare gun, a waterproof flashlight, and some liquid shark repellant. I snag it and run back up the steps to the salon.

Jerry is still standing over her body... staring.
"JERRY. We have to get off this boat, man. She's going to the bottom."
He looks at me, vacant and far away.
"Snap out of it, Jerry."
A blink or two and now he is with me. "My arm."
I look at the blood as if for the first time. We aren't going into the water with that, not anywhere near me anyway.
"You and Lou need to dress those wounds."

I drag Jerry behind me with one arm, the other looped through three life vests, the kind you would use on a jet ski. In my hand I hold the container with the flare gun and associated items.
Lou is still at the wheel, backing us toward land, which is now visible on the horizon... maybe ten or fifteen miles away. It doesn't look good.
"Engine room is flooding."
"Yeah, we'll run her until she quits."
I look down at the radio. It looks like there was a small fire.
"What happened to the radio?"
"Caught on fire... what does it look like?" Lou gives it a swift kick and the microphone goes flying. "Piece of shit worked for maybe a minute and then started smoking. I think it caught some shrapnel from the deck gun."
"Do you think anyone heard you?"
He looks at me. The absence of an answer is my answer.
"Let me take the wheel. You and Jerry need to treat those wounds. At least clean up the blood. If we have to go into the water, I don't think you'll want to be ringing any dinner bells."

I am on the bridge alone. We are low in the water. I have to back off on the throttles at one point because now the water we are pushing with the stern is starting to come over the transom. I look at the horizon. Land is growing in the seam between sea and air. It is is still too far way. For the first time I let the fear grow inside me. It starts to turn in my gut like the flu.
I just keep my eye on that land and try to will the boat to take us there.

The boys return. They have plastic rap and duct tape around their respective wounds. Lou has picked up a life ring from somewhere.
"The Galley is gone. A huge hole... HUGE fucking hole. But there were still a couple of drawers with shit in them." He holds his plastic wrapped upper arm up for inspection. Blood is still trying to flow under the tightly wrapped plastic. He holds up a small Band-Aid like a sardine between his thumb and forefinger, then hands it to me.
Jerry looks down a what was his good arm. Not broken bones... he thinks. But this may sideline him for a while if we get back to land. Both of their bandages display some gruesome wounds. I feel rather petty as I pull the protective paper off of the back of my Band-Aid and put it on my split ear. They both watch me as if they are observing a field amputation or something.
"Wow... you okay?" Jerry puts a hand on my shoulder.
"Fuck you Jerry, I was just lucky."
"Hey Jerry?" Lou turns him, "Make sure you don't lose this." He pulls the speargun from over his shoulder and checks the weapon. Safety is on. He gives it back to him.
I hand them each a life jacket.
"You better put these on."

Just as it seems we might make it close enough to land that we may be able to swim for it, the engine finally succombs to the flooding in the compartment. As soon as we lose our momentum, the KOZANOSTRA starts going down fast.
We stand on the flybridge, all buckled into our vests. Lou takes my canister and opens it.
"Hold this." He hands me the opened container and pulls the flaregun.
"No time like the present."
While he loads it we watch the water cover the main deck and up the side windows of what was the salon. He puts one of six flares in the kit into the gun and straightens his arm over head. Once the flare is launched, he opens the gun and discards the spent shell and loads another. He hands the gun to me.
"We should launch another when that one lands. It'll fly a little higher while we are up here." He takes the container from my other hand.
"What else is in here?"

A couple of minutes pass and the water has engulfed the bow of the boat and has momentarily slowed. Must have some large air pockets that are slowing our descent.
I launch the next flare.
Lou picks up the emergency beacon.
"That is activated by sea water."
"No shit." He heaves it over the side of the boat.
"Why did you do that?"
"To have it activated by seawater. Why wait."
"Makes sense. I am not thinking as clearly as I would like, you know... the sinking and possible death by shark on my mind and everything."
Lou slaps me on the back like we are sitting at the bar drinking a few beers.
"Don't worry so much. We have this."
He holds up a couple of pouches of shark repellant.
"What the fuck is that going to do? Make our blood turn pretty colors?"
Jerry turns away. "Can we stop talking about the fucking SHARKS please."

Another flare later and the water is now lapping at the flybridge, moving up slowly. Lou points to the flashing light on the beacon.
"Well, at least that is working."
Up to our calfs now.
I try to read the small print on the shark repellant pouch. "Why would they have the instructions so small. It's the last thing you want to do when you are facing sharks... read small print before you can protect yourself."
Lou closes my hand around the pouch.
"Don't open that until the boat is out from under us. That shit is like a dye plume that is supposed to surround us. If you let it go too soon then the suction of the boat going down will disperse it."
He stops as he looks in the container some more.
"Hey look, gum. " Lou pulls the pack of gum out and holds it up to each of us in turn. We refuse.
"There isn't a blow up raft in there, huh?" Jerry tries a little levity.
"No, but here are some waterproof matches."
Up to our thighs now, and going fast.
Lou puts the stick of gum in his mouth and then hands me another flare to load into the pistol.
"Are you going to be able to handle that speargun, Jerry? Is your arm up to the task?"
He unshoulders it and hands it to Lou, who puts the strap over his shoulder.
Up to our chest now. I fire the flare gun and now I can't drop my hand because the water is up to my chest.

The three of us feel the boat go out from beneath our feet and we watch the Loran antenna disappear beneath the water. There is a bit of a commotion as trapped air from the ship bubbles the water around us. After a long sixty seconds or so, the water calms and it is the three of us bobbing around in a fairly calm ocean.
I launch another flare. Jerry jumps at the shot.
"Jesus... you scared the shit out of me."
"Hey, I'm just doing my job."
Lou hands him a dye pack. "Open it and swoosh it around in the water."

Jerry opens the dye pack and before you know it we are in a large plume of flourescant green dye. "Try not to kick your feet too much. We want to keep everything inside the plume, and the plume as concentrated around us as possible."
Me and Lou look at him.
"What? I saw it on Discovery Channel once. This shit will work... for a while anyway."

We float. Everyonce in awhile some debris pops to the surface and startles us. This whole thing reminds me of the final scene in Jaws where they are waiting for that big ass shark to appear and end it all. I have to get my mind off of this.
"So, Jerry, what happened with Abigail?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why did she do all this, man?"
"Money. She had gotten into a big deal with the Dominican Brothers for a lot of money. Not that she owed them... not like that. She arranged a few huge deals with factions overseas that wanted something other than heroin to push on the streets of their perspective countries. The deal was struck and arrangements made. Some courier named Montoya was supposed close the deal. So this whole thing was over payment from those factions to the Dominican Brothers."

"Oh for Christ Sake. So now the Dominican Brothers are going to be after our asses. We JUST got done convincing them that we weren't the enemy." I take the last of the flares from the container and launch it, then toss the flare gun back into the waterproof container and close it.
"They're dead."
"Who?"
"The Dominican Brothers."
We watch the flare as the little shoot blooms and slowly descends on the breeze.
"How do you know that?"
"She fire bombed them with what sounds like the same shit they had you use on that canyon."
Lou looks at me, "When she showed up is when the bombs showed up. She had the skills."
"I'll be damned. She killed them?"
"Yep. I guess early retirement's beckon call had her looking for one big score."
"And she told you all of this?"
"Yeah, on the boat before you guys came along."
"Why?"
"Dunno, funny how much someone will tell you when they are going to kill you."

After a long silence Jerry looks past me and then his eyes get real big.
"Oh crap."
Fins break the surface of the water, three of them. They look huge from our vantage point. But we feel so safe with this cloud of green dye to protect us.
"What do we do?" Jerry looks at the both of us.
Lou pulls the speargun off of his shoulder and takes the safety off. Now, for the first time, I see the two extra spears that are being held against the grip and the body of the gun.
"Hey... extras." I tell him, pointing.
Lou turns his back. "We all keep our backs to each other and watch for any of them to make a move."
"And?"
"What do you want me to do, spell it out for you. One thing I know is that these things don't like to be hit on the nose or eye gouged. Try that if they come at you."
"That's easy for you to say. You have the speargun."
Jerry holds up a hand... "Quiet."

The three of us stop talking and we listen.
"Hear that?"
Silence
"What?" I whisper.
"Music... Moody Blues, I think."
We listen again.
"You're losing it, man."
"Sssshhhh." Lou has his hand up now.

Sure enough, on the breeze you can hear it, fading in and out... music.
I nod, "I can hear it. Knights in White Satin?"
Jerry's eyes get huge. "A BOAT."

Lou smiles, "Hell, that isn't just a boat, thats the fucking Morgan."
"HEY WHITEY." Lou calls out, waving the speargun overhead.
I whistle as loud as I can. We all make as much noise as possible and then see the Morgan change course and head straight for us. There is a blast of gun fire, then another.
"Hey, its Loco. HEY LOCO."
"TIBURONES." He calls to us. I think it is a new nickname or something until Lou translates.
"Sharks."

As the boat approaches Loco picks his targets and fires. Between the boat and our position are dozens of sharks. Now in a feeding frenzy over the dead and dying tigers at Loco's hand.
"Loco, stop shooting." Lou calls to him as the boat closes the distance from a hundred feet.

Blanco turns the boat as he comes up on us and puts what he hopes is most of the hunting pack off his port beam and us on his starboard. He drops a rope ladder over the side and we swim for it.
"Lou, you and Jerry go first, you're bleeding." I hold the ladder steady.
Jerry gets on board and then Lou starts up the ladder.
Loco points, "Tiburone... he is coming fast."
He goes to jack a shell into the chamber but realizes he is out. His hand goes to his pants pocket and comes up empty. "Oh shit, senior Jake."
"Oh SHIT?"
I scramble for the ladder.
"HERE IT COMES." I hear Jerry's voice and the panic has me launching myself out of the water without getting a foot on the rope ladder.
Lou lets the spear fly and I swear it parts my hair it is so close. I can't tell because I am busy hauling my ass off of the buffet table, but Lou's shot finds its mark.

We are safe. Safe like nobody's business. On rare occasions such as this, avoiding certain death and being found in the middle of the sea by friends, I thank God and anyone else looking out for us up there.
Blanco takes a few bear hugs from his admirers. He looks at us and smiles. I don't think old Blanco has a whole lot of friends, but he has made three for life with us. We give Loco the same treatment, to his embarassment. These two saved our lives and we will be forever grateful.

"Louis... " Blanco starts, "Big boat... is gone?"
"Yeah, Whitey, they sunk that motherfucker right out from under our feet."
"I see big grey boat head to shore, tipped in this water." He holds his hand to show the angle.
Lou looks at us, and then at Whitey.
"Show me."

Going Down

"That's it... they shut us down." I try cycling the switches and go for a restart. Another muffled explosion and now the fire suppression light comes on for the engine compartment.
"FIRE."
Lou lifts Jerry off the deck and brushes him off. "Can you make it?"
Jerry gets that sly look in his eye, "Fuck yeah... I can make it. Give me a gun."
Lou looks at me. "Let's empty the armory and bring it all up here on deck. We aren't going down without a fight."

The three of us make our way to the armory and grab armfuls of loaded rifles and shot guns. Jerry picks up a speargun.
"We won't need that." Lou tells him.
"Just in case." Jerry throws the strap over his shoulder. We take a couple of ammo cases loaded with clips, and a couple of shoulder belts stuffed with shotgun shells.
"I can't believe that she is trying to kill us." Lou says to him.
"Who?" I turn and follow the two of them out of the armory and back up toward the flybridge.
Their ship is only five hundred or so yards back. They will be on us within the minute.
"Abigail." Lou stops at the ladder leading up to the flybridge, "the Reina Mortal is Abigail."
He turns and climbs to the flybridge with us in tow.
"No shit."
Jerry nods, "She had her boys beat the shit out of me looking for those diamonds."
"What did you tell her?" Lou doesn't look at him, but at the ship on our tail. It is slowing now and about to come up on us.
"Nothing. I told her I was down here on a run and that was it. I didn't know where you boys were or where you were going." He grabs an M-16 and pulls the clip, tapping it on the deck and then slapping it back into place. With a quick move the bolt is pulled and the gun ready to fire. He tosses it to me.
"I'm sure glad you guys showed up when you did. They were going to throw me overboard."
"Hey, what are friends for." I put the M16 strap over my shoulder.
Jerry does the same for three more rifles and then picks up a shotgun and starts loading shells into it. "She's lost her fucking mind. You know what those stones are worth?" He waits for beat, sliding a couple more shells and then jacking one into the chamber. "Almost ten million dollars. She says they are perfect five carat stones... that they will bring a couple of hundred thousand dollars per carat for a stone of that size."

They fire the deck gun for effect. Because they are following us there is no way they can hit us without overtaking our boat.
"There HEEERE." Lou calls to us, as though company had just shown up for cocktails.
Gunfire errupts from their decks and we immediately engage them. Lou uses the FN-FAL and with single shots picks off two of their members.
I fire back with one of the Uzi's as another pirate pops up to take a shot. I spray him with 9mm ammo and he goes down. The boat is almost stopped, gliding by us... thirty feet off our starboard beam. The deck gun will be on us is a heartbeat.
"JAKE... get down to the engine room and see if there is anything left."
"What about them?"
"Me and Jerry will deal with them."
Jerry peels off a three round burst from the M-16 and another pirate goes down. Another blast and the runabout that they craned on board bursts into flames as the fuel tank is ruptured.
I grab the other Uzi jam a couple of clips down my shorts as I race off the flybridge under a hail of bullets fired from the other ship.

I have no idea what I will find, or what I will be able to do. As I race through the salon to the back to the ladder leading to the crew quarters and engine spaces the deck gun opens up. Two rounds blast through the hull and whistle through the salon and explode on the port bulkhead, the explosion blowing me down the stairwell. There are no more shots from the big gun... not yet anyway. Lou must have silenced the gunner and no one has the balls to take his place.
The blast has me disoriented. I shake it off. My ears are ringing. Red lights are flashing from the fire suppression system that had been activated in the engine compartment. Halon most likely. That stuff will kill you just as easy as the fire if you are in the wrong place at the time.
I look through the small porthole in the door and see that the fire is out.

I open the compartment hatch and set the hold open catch. I am met with the smell of diesel and the choking existance of spent Halon, but much of it has vented. There is a hole through the bulkhead and the starboard engine is totally blown. I can see the hull of the other ship now right outside. That is why they have ceased fire. They mean to board us and get those diamonds. With their ship so close, the deck gun is ineffective.

The port engine looks untouched. The problem is the metal fuel line. Shrapnel from the starboard engine burst must have torn it in half... hence the fire. It is a half inch line, with no chance of repair without a special kit or new line. I look around in the compartment as quick as I can. There is a garden hose with a spray nozzle coiled on a holder on the bulkhead next to the open hatch. I go to the small workbench and start yanking out drawers until I find what I am looking for.
Small arms fire can be heard as Lou and Jerry exchange volleys with the pirates. I hear someone land on the fantail above me, then another. They are boarding. I make quick work of the hose and cut a nice two foot long piece. I look back over my shoulder at the ruptured line and the ragged edges on both sides.
"Damn it." I turn and look for something to smooth the ends so I can slide the hose over them. I find a pair of dykes and run over to the torn lines. As quick as I can I bend and try to quickly smooth the edges. I feed the hose over to the engine side and up about three inches, then work it on to the fuel supply side, all the while being drenched with diesel as it gravity fed from the tanks.

All the while I can hear a fierce gun battle going on above my head. The unmistakable sound of the FN-FAL as Lou peels off one shot at a time. Shotgun blasts... I can hear them in the salon. Jerry must be fending them off as they come on board.
I wipe the lines with my shirt and then take some electrical tape I found in the drawer and seal the ends of the hose patch.
I search the control panel and flip a couple of switches... nothing. I look at the bulkhead and see a red reset button. I slap it and then return to the panel.
"Fuel pump on." I hear the sound of the pump running.
"Blower." I say to myself, jumping slightly with another shotgun blast as it comes from above... closer now.
"Okay, baby... lets go." I turn the switch and engage the starter. It rolls for a second or two and then fires. It is the most wonderful sound I have heard today.
I look for the intercom button and hail the bridge. It monitors... all I hear is gunfire and Lou cursing whoever it is he is shooting at.
"LOU."
Nothing.
"LOU... ENGINE IS RUNNING. GET US OUT OF HERE."
More gunfire and then the intercom goes silent.
"Oh for CHRIST SAKE." I look for the engine room controls put this thing in motion. I find them in the tangle of metal between the two engines. Pushing it forward and engaging the boat in that direction is not going to happen. But reverse looks good. I pull the safety and bring the lever to the reverse position.
The big ship lurches and almost knocks me off my feet. I run to the control panel and give it all she has to give... well maybe eighty percent. Don't want to blow her up out of panic.
I run from the engine room and pull one of the UZI's from around my neck. I slap in a double clip and then eye the stairwell.

You can hear the ships collide and the sound of scraping metal. With that and the diesel screaming along it temporarily drowns out the battle raging on above my head. I take the steps as quickly as possible, looking aft to the fantail first to make sure no one is at my back. Then I look from the top of the stairs into the salon.
Jerry has been shot... again. I can see him pressed up against the bulkhead near the stairwell that goes down to the staterooms. Abigail and one of her men are still standing, two others are down and dead from the looks of them.
"DROP your gun, Jerry." She peels off a shot and it splinters the corner above his head.
"I don't hear your friend's big gun any longer." She chides him, "He is dead, Jerry... and you will be as well if you do not stop this foolishness."
As if on cue, the firing resumes from Lou's big gun. But in return the deck gun from the other boat is firing back now. You can feel the impacts as the gunner walks his shots down the side of the ship and then the bow.
"HEY."
Abigail turns, as does her bodyguard. I let the Uzi rip and draw a couple of lines across the two of them. The man folds with three slugs in his chest. Abigail, whom I wish I had a good hour or two to talk with to find out what the FUCK she is doing out here, drops her gun and clutches her neck and shoulder.
"JERRY... You alright?"
"No, I've been shot... AGAIN. But yes, I am alright." He stumbles into view and we both disarm our two guests. The man is definately dead, but Abigail is still alive. She is bleeding pretty bad from the neck wound.
"GO... " Jerry kneels down next to her tearing his shirt and wadding it. He presses it to her neck. "Go help Lou."

I make it to the fly bridge to find Lou with one hand on the ships wheel, the other struggling to reload a clip. His arm and hand are covered in blood. I see the wound, on the outside of the upper arm. Looks like a through and through.
The other ship is steaming toward us, backward so as to keep the gun trained on us. Lou must have dispatched the good gunner, because now the shots are not hitting us.
"Take the wheel." Lou steps back and I take his place. Just as I thought I was going to get out of this without a scratch a bullet whizzes by and splits my ear open about a quarter inch from the edge. It stings like a mother but I don't even say a word in the wake of my buds getting shot up much worse.

"You better move side to side a little, I have been giving that shitbag a go of it. He hasn't his me with anything for about six rounds."
Hardly a second passes before the deck gun blazes off four shots in quick succession. All of them find their mark and the whole boat shudders.
"Weave, Jake, WEAVE the fucking thing."
"They TOOK those shots before you TOLD me."
I crank the wheel from one side to the next. She is real sluggish and it looks like we are getting closer to the water.
"She's going down, Lou."
"Oh, that's great." He stands and draws a bead.
"Hold her steady for a second."
"Which is it, swerve or steady? I can't do both."
"STEADY Goddamnit."
Another two rounds from the deck gun hit home before Lou lets a clip fly on the FN-FAL in full auto mode. The gunner's head on the other ship explodes and the gun falls silent.

We watch as the pursuit boat slows and then seems to stop. They then change course and head for landfall. They are low in the water and I can only assume that the holes I put in them have been a little too much for the pumps. They are sinking and are trying to make it to the shore before they end up on the bottom.
"We better do the same." Lou looks at the compass. "I think we have been heading out to sea this whole time. We might just be screwed."
He turns the ships wheel until we have the stern pointed back toward Belize. Then grabs the radio and calls out a MayDay.

I turn and head down to the salon to check on Jerry. As I see the waterline from the main deck I realize we don't have much time before KOZANOSTRA is reunited with her owner. The only lifeboat on board is a Zodiak that I passed on the way off the flybridge. It is shot all to hell and of no use at all. I can hear Lou yelling his distress call into the radio as I make the turn into the salon. I am thinking of only one thing right now and it is full of teeth and scary as hell. I can only hope it isn't feeding time in this part of the Caribbean.

Terror of the High Seas Part II

The KOZANOSTRA lifts gently on the swells of a sapphire blue sea as her engines are brought to idle after a short push to reverse. Her momentum slows, then stops as we sit two hundred yards off the bow of our target ship.

We can hear conversation on the other ship and the sound of running feet. I look at Lou and he at me. I guess asking "what now" is out of the question. There is a long silence. Captain Blood doesn't move an inch... no wave, no "Ahoy", nothing. Just when I thought the silence would last forever, he speaks. Lou whispers the translation to me.
"He told them the radio is out, that it was shot out when they took the boat."
More silence.
Lou taps Blood on the side of the calf with his knife, "Tell them you have a hostage that knows the location of the stones. That he want's to speak to whoever is in charge."
Blood repeats what he has been told, that the man wants to speak to the Reina Mortal... that he will tell only her.
"That's a good boy, Captain Blood." Lou puts his knife away and pulls the Kimber, checking the load and then tucking it back in his belt.
"So now what?"
Lou hands me his rocket launcher. "Take this... and don't miss."
"What?"
"You are going to take the shots at the ship while I take Captain Blood here down to meet our guests."
"Oh crap, are you shitting me? You are the one that knows how to use these things. I was going to give you mine."
"I have to deal with whoever they send over... hopefully she comes with them." He makes sure I am looking at him, then continues. "When you hear gunfire, then take your shot... just below the waterline and closer to the bow if you can."

"They are coming." Captain Blood starts to look down at us, but then snaps his head back out to sea.
"Showtime." Lou reaches up with the handcuff key and frees our hostage. "Nothin' funny, Blood, or I cut you."

And with that they are gone. I am on the bridge of this yacht with two rocket launchers, two uzi's, a forty-five automatic, and a case of nerves that would shake the Rock of Gibralter. I chance a look at my target and see that we have turned in the water, showing our starboard side to their bow. I also catch a glimpse of the runabout before it disappears behind us.
I extend the tube on one of the launchers, flip up the sight, and take the safety off. It is ready to fire.
Seconds pass. I wait for gunfire? I am waiting until someone gets shot? There must be some way to hear what is going on down there.
I look at the control panel. Someone had a hard-on for toggle switches when they built her. I find a bank dedicated to the intercom system. I find the one for the salon and switch it to monitor.

I hear movement... then Captain Blood says something in Spanish, to which the reply is the sound of arms being brought to bear.
Then Lou's voice can be heard, "So you are the Reina Mortal, huh... I wouldn't have expected that."
Now I hear a woman's voice... "I am told you have the stones?"
There is a pause.
"No... but I know where they are."
There is movement.
"Not another step or I kill him."
I wait. Then there is a shot. Oh shit... they shot him, or he shot Blood... or her.
I freeze for a moment, then grab the rocket launcher and stand, lining up the waterline at the bow in my sights. I can hear voices on the intercom, barely audible over the beating of my heart.
"Enough of this foolishness." She sounds pissed. "He meant nothing to me. I don't think you are afraid to die, but why take any more lives with you. I have a friend of yours... a guest aboard my boat."
There is the sound of a man on a hand held radio speaking to someone on the other boat. When the talking stops, I can see two men with a man slumped between them on the bow of the other craft. A familiar shirt... shape, it's Jerry.
"He has made it plain to see that he has no answers for me. But you, sir, I think you can be persuaded to give me what I want."
There is sporadic gunfire once more. I hold the rocket launcher up and take aim. From what I can see, Jerry has been beaten badly. He can't stand on his own.
I can't take the shot. I can't kill my friend... the hesitation is endless. I slump down out of sight.
"Take the shot." I hear him say from the salon. I don't know if he is talking to me, or them.
"Do it now. Take the shot."

I stand line up on the waterline and pull the trigger. A lick of flame shoots out of the ass end of the launcher as the rocket zips toward the boat.
WHAM... it hits the target two feet above the waterline. The explosion knocks the men down on the bow and Jerry is free. He either falls or jumps over the side and splashes into the water.
"Oh SHIT."
I ready the other launcher. At the same time the runabout, with Lou aboard as prisoner, is speeding back toward their ship.
I draw a bead on the waterline, this time a little lower. It must kick up a little when the rocket fires. With a pull of the trigger I send the second rocket on its way. This time I hit low and aft of the first hole. It is right below the waterline, tearing an opening about three feet wide, and coupled with the other hit about four feet high.

When the smoke clears, I can see the water pouring into the hole. There is smoke from the engine room as the old diesel is fired. General mayhem on the deck as the men left aboard scatter to do damage control.
I look to the runabout just in time to see Lou, hands bound, go over the side in an attempt to escape. I have lost sight of Jerry in this crazyness, but find him about twenty yards out and floundering.

I run from the bridge. There is a life ring and a long rope on the stern of the ship. Taking the ladders two steps at a time, I make the main deck in a heartbeat and run for the fantail. Just as I make the back of the boat, I see Jerry going down for the last time.
The life ring... I grab it and the line and hurl it toward him. It overshoots him by about ten feet. His arms flail and catch the rope. He is at the end of his energy... barely getting the ring under one arm before he collapses on it.
I haul it in as quickly as I can. As it comes toward me, Lou surfaces... out of breath and still hands bound. He calls to Jerry, who takes a limp arm and collects him with it. They are right at the back of the boat and I haul Lou up on the deck, and then grab for Jerry.
"Come on, Jerry... hang in there. Stay with me, buddy." He looks like he is going to pass out on me.
"Get these fucking ropes off of me." Lou hisses, pulling at them.
Too knotted, too tight... I have to get a knife. He knows what I am thinking.
"My knife and my rifle are in the salon, behind the bar... hurry."
I run in and see Captain Blood, dead from a shot through the skull, laying by the bar. I reach behind the bar and grab the rifle and knife and return to the fantail. With a quick swipe I cut the bindings and Lou is up on his feet immediately.
"We need to get this boat moving, right now." He jacks a round into the rifle and then slings it over his shoulder.
"Grab him, we'll take him topside with us."

With Jerry up on the fly bridge we make her ready to get under way. I take a quick look over my shoulder and see that the runabout has rendezvoused back with the old ship. Now instead of the bow, we are seeing her stern, and a very large gun being aimed our way.
"Lou... "
He puts the boat in gear and pushes the throttles forward.
"LOU."
The first of four shots blows over our head, the second explodes into the deck below us, the third presumebly tags our hull. All as we are moving out... making our escape. The fourth round causes a major dilema. I think it has disabled one of our engines. With her huge, lumbering weight we still feel her lurch. The control board lights up with failures as Lou cranks the ships wheel giving them our good side.
"TAKE THE WHEEL."
Lou unslings his rifle and peels off a flurry of shots. He manages to take out the gunner, but he is replaced with another man.
"GO, JAKE, KICK THIS PIECE OF SHIT."

The throttles are at their stops. I crank the wheel back the other way. Maybe zigging and zagging will make for a harder target.
Lou fires a couple more rounds... he rakes the pilot house. If there was anyone standing in there, they aren't standing now.
We start to put some distance between us and them. Another barrage of shots from the deck gun. The flybridge shudders as one of the explosive rounds hits about ten feet behind us. Fiberglass and teak wood pelts us, the debris covering Jerry as he lays on the deck at our feet.
Lou takes a couple more shots as their boat turns.
"Here they come."

I look over my shoulder. Their ship is turning behind us. Thick black smoke is pouring from the stack as they put the coals to her. KOZANOSTRA has a bit of a smoke trail as well, but this is battle damage.
"We are slowing."
Just before their ship turns completely to follow us, the deck gun lets loose with one last barrage. They hit just above the waterline at our stern. It seems like they must have saved their best gunner for last because none of the four shots missed their target. A muffled explosion and it was apparant that we were not being propelled forward any longer.

Terror on the High Seas

The three of us are on the fly bridge. We are letting the yacht drive itself most of the way to our destination. I cut back on the power while we readied our defenses. Now, probably twenty minutes away at this speed, the two of us are armed well enough to take an aircraft carrier.

Lou has shown me how to operate my rocket launcher, and where to aim for ultimate effect. Our pirate friend told us that it is a Costa Rican Navy ship turned into a personal yacht. Costa Rica hasn't had armed forces to speak of since 1949. Any ship that might be considered to be part of their navy must be the only ship of it's kind and older than the hills.
"That's a good thing." Lou says as we discuss it.
"Why is that?"
"Old ships are easier to sink."
I peel the rocket launcher off my shoulder and dangle it by the strap, "What is the actual plan here, Lou? I thought these things were a "just in case" type of option. Now you're talking about sinking their boat?"
"HEY... they killed our friends, Jake. DEAD... there isn't any coming back from that." He puffs on the stub of his cigar and manages to re-stoke the cherry at the end. "They aren't going to let us go on our way. Not a chance."
"So we are just going to sink their shit and be on our way?"
"I want to make sure she is on board. If you cut off the head, the body will die."

Lou has a few more questions for our captive; does the ship have radar? Any big guns? How many of you cutthroat bastards are on board? Unfortunately for him, he has few answers... even with a little coaxing that would make a Gestapo agent squeemish. I will never smoke a cigar again without thinking of it.
What we do garner from the information is that there are another dozen men, and the Reina Mortal, the Deadly Queen. She is on board. Maybe Lou is right. If we take her, and the ship, then it should be over.
What we don't know is anything for sure about big guns or about radar that would surely give our approach away. There won't be any element of surprise. The pirate thinks there is a deck gun, but it is aft of the pilot house if it is there. He had spent his time up on the bow of the boat the short time he was on board, but saw big rounds of ammunition in cases amidships.
"That would make some sense." Lou says as he flicks the one inch stub of his cigar over the side of the boat. "Thanks for the smoke, Bear." He says under his breath.
"What?"
"It makes sense that they would have the gun aft. A small ship like that, it wasn't built as a war ship, so the gun was added as a defensive meaure. Those old ships were really vulnerable at the stern, they need to protect from a rudder shot that would disable their steering. Plus they would be firing from a defensive position."
"You mean running away?"
"Yep."

We have been running dark the whole journey. Not a light on. We have the radar running just until we see our target and verify it is there alone. Then we shut that down for good measure. It isn't going to mean much with the moon tonight and our white hull.
Our captive was to deliver the KOZANOSTRA to the coordinates, so we cuff him to the ship's wheel and leave one hand free for a friendly wave when we get there.
"I think she means to take this boat as a prize. So I don't think she will fire on it even when things get dicey." Lou says, repositioning the Kimber tucked into the broad leather belt that he took from one of the dead pirates before making him a midnight snack.
"So what do you want to do?"
"We approach them from the bow and get within range of these rocket launchers, a couple hundred yards max. Then we let her come to us. When they check us out the will see their are no small boats, and only Captain Blood here piloting the craft." He slaps the back of our captive's head and gets an unapproving look in return.
"Oh, and by the way, " he grabs the pirate by the face and makes sure they are looking eye to eye, "I speak fluent Spanish and French." He releases the man's face, who stares out over the bow but still listens. "If I hear or see anything other than what we tell you to say or do, I will fuck you up so bad your mother's hairdresser's gardner will cry like a baby when he hears about it."
I look at Lou. I should be accustom to his unending talents by now.
"You speak French?"
"Oui."

Not much talking going on as we see our target on the horizon. First just a mast light, then the bow and stern lights. She is about twenty miles off our bow when Captain Blood tells Lou that he is to radio them and let them know he is approaching.
"Fuck that, Captain Blood, when we are within shouting range, you can yell to them... how does that sound. You can tell them that radio was shout out when you took the ship."
Captain Blood doesn't seem to like that idea and steams on it for a while. I can only assume there would have been some secret code word or something to let them know things went south.
The ship looks more like a cross between a fishing trawler and a cargo ship in the coming light of dawn. It is a hundred fifty feet or so in length, hard to tell with out seeing it from the side. There are a couple of main decks and a tall pilot house with maybe three decks. From our head on approach we can't see if there is a deck gun, but we will assume there is. Better safe than sorry. It's time to get out of sight. We take up position on the deck just behind our captive.
"Captain Blood, what frequency were you to contact them on?"
He gives us the numbers to which Lou responds and tunes the ship to shore to that frequency. Immediately you can hear them hailing us repeatedly.
Lou turns to me, "They are telling him to respond." He waits and listens, then sees our captive reaching for the horn button.
"Don't do it, Captain Blood." Lou pulls his diving knife and puts the business end to the man's calf. "Not another inch, asshole."
"What?"
"They told him to tap the ships horn if there was trouble."