208 days ago
208 days ago
Finally, the ferocious storm passed and the all-powerful ocean deflexed it's muscles. By this time, I was so exhausted! It was as if I had been beaten by a club over every inch of my body. Every muscle, bone, and joint ached from the past six days of purgatory I had just finished.
Of course, when it was no longer critical, the GPS and loran began working perfectly, giving fixes within a tenth of a mile of each other. I got out the Sailing Directions for
While making my navigational calculations, I noticed a ship on the radar that was seven miles behind me on my exact course. While I continued to work at the chart table, I would occasionally look outside and scan the horizon. Nothing! Only the bleak glow from the crescent moon. I followed the radar target which had a decreasing range and constant bearing. When the range was down to four miles, I began to feel uncomfortable. Adding to my apprehension was the fact that I could not visually spot any navigation lights.
I altered course 20 degrees to starboard, feeling that if this was a vessel returning to port on a similar course, then this maneuver should solve the problem. Again, I peered back into gloom trying to detect lights or a shape, but I was unsuccessful. I dropped below to the navigation station and saw that the other vessel had altered course as well. It was again directly behind me with a decreasing range.
My thoughts turned to piracy. I had always been fascinated with this aspect of the sea and recently had read an interesting work on the subject. Though the coast of
Fortunately, I was well armed, but never before had I taken my guns out during a voyage. I carried a nine millimeter Baretta pistol with a 15-round magazine as well as a .223 caliber Galilean Israeli assault rifle. I thought back to the numerous hours I had spent at the shooting range learning to handle these powerful weapons. But now that danger was approaching, I found removing the guns from their locker difficult. I rechecked the radar and the range was two miles. My mouth became dry, my stomach churned and my palms began to sweat.
I went out into the cockpit and peered back, searching again for any form of light. Still nothing! Certainly at this range, if the vessel had any lights at all, they would be visible. I also should have been able to see some type of shape unless the vessel was very small.
I scrambled below again and began calling on the VHB radio- giving my position and asking for the vessel two miles from my stern to come up on channel 16. The only thing I heard was rapid Spanish which I had been hearing since entering Mexican waters.
His range continued to close, so I reluctantly got both guns placing the pistol in my foul weather pocket and bought the rifle up on deck. My mind continued to weigh other options, but why would a vessel traveling without light quickly come up behind?
I frantically checked the radar again and the range had closed to a mile. As I headed back to the cockpit, on impulse I grabbed my one million candlepower spotlight. By this time I could vaguely make out a dark shape from behind and I definitely ascertained that no lights were showing. I could not believe that I was going to be attacked by pirates in the latter part of the 20th century. I gave another attempt on the handheld VHF, screaming for the vessel to turn away, or else. But the same rambling Spanish was all that crackled through the speakers.
I aimed the search light in the direction of the vessel, turned it on and held it place for five seconds, illuminating everything in sight. I could now see it was an old, wooden, fishing boat in very poor shape. A single man was standing right in front of the deck; he appeared startled by the volts blinding his face. I turned the light off and waited. It took a while for my eyes to readjust to the darkness, but when they did so, I could no longer see the form behind me.
By now my nerves were strung as taut as piano wire. I again ducked quickly into the cabin to glance at the radar, only to find that the target was now heading off sharply at 90 degrees. Relief flooded over me like a tsunami. I sat and watched the radar as the target's range gradually increased bleep by bleep. My hands were trembling as I retrieved the rifle from the cockpit to break it down and store it once more.
I still think back on this incident and wonder if this was a Mexican pirate trying to get the benefit of surprise or just a fishing boat following me toward the coast. Much of the evidence, in my opinion, points to the former. Although I didn't have to pull the trigger, I'm sure as hell glad that I was prepared with enough fire power to counter any aggression he was willing to bring.
