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."