Chapter 1

My Papa had died a couple of years ago. I had lived with my Papa and Mama since my folks were killed in a terrorist attack while on vacation, when I was a kid.

I was graduating from college next week and Mama had gotten my Papa's sailboat fixed up and made arrangements for me to take a sailing trip for a month this summer, before I started my job as an engineer at Papa's company.

My mother was Papa's only child and he taught her about those things he'd liked to do. He was an engineer and a man's man. He was a hunter and fisherman as well as a target shooter and sailor. Mommy could outshoot most any man that she knew, including my dad.

After I came to live with my grandparents, Mama took me to love and Papa took me to teach how to be a man. He taught me to shoot fish and sail, as well as how to be a loving person, and how to take responsibility for myself.

Papa's boat was a thirty-two foot tri-maran with a mainsail and a jib. It had a small inboard diesel engine to supply propulsion and to power a generator. Mama had it fixed up and modernized. It had a mast top turbine for electricity production to keep the batteries up and a pull behind generator to power appliances that needed 110 volts while under sail. It had a gas stove and a desalination unit for drinking water. It had a capacity large enough to use for drinking and cooking as well as a rinse after bathing, but not for a bath.

Mama came to my graduation up at Gainesville, and we rode home together. During the trip, she talked about my upcoming vacation and talked about how her family had done a bit of rum running during prohibition, and how her uncle had known Terra Cia bay like the back of his hand. Terra Cia bay is a shallow bay that has access to places where the cargo could be off loaded discreetly, while keeping the Coast Guard from being able to follow you around the many islands.

During the next week and a half Mama and I planned and loaded the boat for my trip. I planned to take a path down to the Dry Tortugas and then across to Bimini and down through the Bahamas. I was going to fish and sight see.

Mama had read about some pirate problems in the Bahamas and made me take Papa's rifle and pistol. I think he read too much Elmer Keith, because he had a stainless steel revolver in .45 ACP and a stainless steel model 70 in .338 Winchester with a synthetic stock. His motto was 'a big bore kills better'. I also took my shotgun, a 12 gauge Bennelli; I was more comfortable with it because I hunted with it. I stored the ammunition in a waterproof 20mm ammo can, so I had room and took plenty for each.

I was aware that the Bahamian authorities were opposed to possession of guns in their country, so I utilized the "smugglers hold" in the starboard hull to keep them in. I could get to them fairly quickly, if needed, and they were undetectable without x-ray equipment.

I took plenty of food and water. This boat had a bunch of storage space that didn't get in the way of the living area, it would sleep four comfortably, and could be sailed by one person without too much inconvenience, an electric winch on the mainsail made that more easily handled.

I had a short wave receiver as well as a ship to shore radio, not to mention my cell phone for communications.

On June 17th, I hugged Mama good bye and motored out into the Manatee River for a well-deserved vacation. There was a nice breeze from the southeast so after I was moving toward the Gulf I raised the sails and shut off the engine.