Pirates Ahoy

PIRATES Ahoy 1996

Since we got back recently from wrestling our yacht "Hagar" around

the world, all anybody ever wanted to hear about were the difficulties.

My friend Mike took me aside one lunchtime at work. He’s been saving up for years to buy a sailing boat.

From his conspiratorial manner I thought he was going to let me in on some worthwhile gossip. But no. He was after blood.

"What did you do about pirates in your travels?"

"Not a problem." I told him. "Why do you think we carried the shotgun? Why did we buy those Sudanese fighting swords? Why the electric fence? It was surely not for protection from sea cows. The knife in the cockpit. The bow and arrows under Ben's bunk. (Well just the arrows actually. The bow got left behind by mistake.) The machete under the chart table. The ultimate secret weapon - our fire extinguishers - handy by the hatches."

"Come on be serious.” Mike insisted “What were your actual experiences?"

"You reallv want to know?"

"I really do."

"Well, the first time we encountered Pirates was off India en route from Sri Lanka. We rounded Cape Cormorin, the continent’s huge Southern extremity at dawn, and as we came into the lee of the land we could smell the morning charcoal of a million cooking fires. We got pretty excited about making landfall.

The wind, so strong to the East of the Cape, died progressively as we motored northwestwards ten miles out from the surf beaches of the Malabar coast. By midday it was calm and very hot. The kids were sweating over their schoolwork and all the fans were going full blast.

The engine had been overheating for the last few days, but it didn’t matter while we could use the sails. Now it was our only option. To avoid permanent damage I turned it off and got out the tool box.

I was head down inside the engine compartment pulling the water pump apart when Jan called out from the cockpit. “A fishing boat’s heading our way Rog.” My stomach gave a jolt. “Not now, of all times.” I thought.

We couldn't move till the engine was fixed, so I told Jan to keep them occupied. I worked as frantically at the water pump as my adrenalin pump worked on me. I should have gone up into the cockpit. There was a bump against the hull, then voices. I heard Jan asking them something and I strained to hear the answer. What I heard was so unfamiliar that it took me time to realise that she was screaming. I extricated myself from the engine compartment in time to see her thrown overboard. Two men stared down the hatch at me.

I grabbed for the fire extinguisher and let them have it in the face. They bellowed with the pain, clawing at their eyes and leapt for the side. I followed them across, emptying the rest of the extinguisher at them as they tumbled into their boat. I was pretty worried that the others in the fishing boat would take advantage of the empty extinguisher so I shouted to Jan bring up the shotgun."

"Hang on, you said they threw Jan overboard."

"They did. but she climbed back on board"

"And went downstairs to dry herself?"

"No, to try and protect the kids."

Mike looked puzzled. "There wasn't time for all that to happen."

I felt a twinge of unease.

"You're making this up aren't you?” He said. “There was no fishing boat was there?"   

"Yes there was. Well, it was a canoe actually. A big one."

"Did it really come alongside while vou were stuck in the engine?"

"Yes."

"Really. And it was full of pirate fishermen."

"Well not exactly full, two actually."

"And these two brave Bluebeards leapt aboard your yacht with pillage and purloinment in mind?"

"Well .......no. I may have exaggerated a little."

"More than a little I’d say."

"They asked for a glass of water."

"And that was their excuse to leap aboard?"

"No. Jan came downstairs. She was pretty worried and asked me what to do. I said give it to them. So that's what she did. She took them some bananas too. I didn’t stop working on the engine.”

"And they were in the cockpit by the time she went back up?"

"No. they stayed in their canoe. They were so pleased with the food and drink that they wanted to give us some of their fish. We couldn't take them of course. They had caught so few. And they looked so thin. They carried on fishing near us while I got the engine going. As we pulled away they waved goodbye till we couldn’t see them between the swells."

"That's it? That's your ‘encounter with piracy’?” What an exciting life you led! Most of it in the imagination by the sound of it."

"Well it was you that was so keen to hear about pirates. Mike. To tell the truth we were pretty careful and tried to avoid tricky situations before they developed. But we were close to encounters with pirates that WERE true. Wanna hear one?"

"Okay, but stick to the facts this time."

"This happened two weeks before we arrived in Cartagena. We first heard it as a rumour on the ham radio while heading that way. We heard the rest of the Boca Chica Incident from the horses’ mouths.”

The sail from Curacao to Cartagena is a boisterous three days in a region where the Carribbean tradewinds pick up strength.  Not long enough to get into the rhythm of watchkeeping. Enough though, to get desperately tired. The flotilla of two Swedish and three American yachts that arrived off Cartagena Bay in the late afternoon were in no mood to spend the night hazarding that vast expanse of navigational hazards if they could avoid it.

Of the two entrances to Cartagena Bay. the biggest, Boca Grande offers a tempting shortcut. But it is a trap. The Spanish conquistadors built a reef across it a metre under the surface to dissuade Sir Francis Drake's marauders.

This was where the Inca Gold was stored for shipment to Spain. The small entrance of Boca Chica far to the South of Boca Grande was easily and heavily defended by forts on both sides.

The forts are now abandoned. At the base of the northern fort, a fishing village forms a tattered counterpoint to the fort's magnificence. It was here that the yacht flotilla decided to anchor for the night. They set their anchors carefully, to give themselves enough chain to prevent dragging if the wind should rise, but not so much as to allow them to drift within range of the rocks near the beach.

Ulf and Lisbet on "Marquita" set a meal to cook. Jurgen on "Gormlaith" was so tired that he went straight to sleep. But not before he had mounted his infra-red burglar alarm on his cabin top. It went off shortly after dark but he grumbled at it and turned it off so he could sleep in peace. On "Marquita" Ulf was starting to eat when a movement at the porthole caught his eye. It was his outboard motor being lowered into a canoe. He rushed up on deck in time to see it disappear along with the thieves. He wasn't too worried. It hadn't worked for a long time. But the loss of the dinghy would have been serious. Nearly all its securing ropes had been cut through. Ulf called urgently to the other boats, warning them and waking Jurgen. Once their eyes were accustomed to the dark they could see the fishermen in their canoes. Shadowy figures waiting outside the range of the dim light from the portholes.

"Marquita" and "Gormlaith" decided that a night of navigating unfamiliar beacons was preferable to this waiting game so they set off for Cartagena and the relative safety of the Marina. "Spicy". "Hey Jude" and the third American boat figured they had every right to anchor there and mounted an anchor watch. This may have worked in most other countries, but in Colombia it didn't. At some time during the night the canoes became more active and bolder. One of the watchkeepers. fearing an attack and hoping to scare them off. pointed her flare pistol towards the canoes and fired several flares. The canoes paddled off to the beach much to the relief of those on board. Their relief was premature.

In the starlight the fishermen could be seen conferring. Things moved swiftly after that. War was declared. The canoes attacked the three yachts with a hail of stones. There was talk of bringing out the rifles but no-one wanted to kill for the sake of a peaceful anchorage, let alone end up in a South American jail. They decided to leave. The other two yachts hauled anchor with no trouble, but as "Spicy" was bringing up her anchor, the chain snagged in the bow rollers.

The others were anxious to go but couldn't leave "Spicy" on her own. The cause of the jam was a rope knotted to the chain. It took what seemed like an age to free it with the threat of more stones to come. It was a long rope and it lead to the beach. Under cover of the stone throwing, some fishermen had attached it to the chain. They had been waiting for the right moment to pull "Spicy" onto the rocks. They very nearly succeeded.

"Hmm" said Mike.

It was time to go back in to work but he walked off in the opposite direction.

"Hey, - where are you going?" I shouted after him.

"I'm sick of this job. I'm going to buy some rope and get me a yacht."