Chapter 114: Mutiny

The Lexus Maru was a luxury yacht in every sense of the word. At least, that’s what the people of Haiti wanted you to think. A group of drug dealers in Haiti had invested in a luxury yacht that was going on the auction blocks. The former owner was well known to these men. His banks had often laundered their drug money. Now his 230’ long luxury boat was theirs.

Forming a company for laundering funds, they created a luxury yacht rental business. With the name “Miami Beach Yachts”, everyone assumed they were from Miami Beach. The name Lexus Maru made many believe it is now, or used to be, an oriental luxury yacht.

For six months now the yacht had been kept busy in the United States. As long as they left from and returned to a US port, they didn’t need to clear customs again. To the rich customers, all seemed normal. Foreign crew, fancy accommodations. Some trips were day trips; others were overnights. But for the ten crew men, it was 24-hours of hell.

The engine crew consisted of just four men. Their job was to keep everything mechanical working on this ship. Sleep was rare. The ship had sat for a long time and was now always having one issue or another to tend to. The three officers, Koreans, were hired by their bosses because they said they could run a ship and looked oriental, part of the cover. The three officers however, were constantly threatening the crew. Mistakes could mean a whip across the backside. Three men worked as the deck crew, while also helping three more men with the cooking. Their work was back-breaking and never-ending. The Koreans were harsh; short-tempered and prone to violent acts when customers weren’t around.

One day they had taken a group of people out on a day trip. In the last five months, they’d gone to sea every single day. On this day, they left early. The yacht was not expected back before nine o’clock tonight. It was a Friday afternoon, hot, especially in the engine room. Nobody had gotten much sleep at all lately.

It was right after lunch. The engine men noticed the lunchmeat was actually canned dog food, not some kind of tunafish or ham salad. At some point, one of the engineers decided he’d had enough. When one of the cooks came to claim the trays, he asked why the dog food. The cook, another Haitian, said the Koreans had said they had to; there wasn’t enough for them and the passengers. Just then one of the officers came down the ladder, complaining that they were standing around when there was work to do. The engineer, Pierre Dominique, hauled off and punched the officer right in the face, knocking him back onto the floor, stunned. He grabbed a knife from the work bench, put it to the Korean. “Listen up you! We’re done taking orders from you! I’m taking over command! Now get up!” He yanked the man to his feet, holding the knife to him. He asked the other engineer if he was with him. He said yes enthusiastically; said he’d go get the others. The cook ran up the stairs with him. He didn’t run to the officers to warn them. He ran to the other cooks; told them what the engineers were doing. The six Haitians all agreed that they needed to support the engineers. These Koreans would kill them all otherwise. Just then, the four engineers came up the stairs, holding the one Korean with the knife to his neck. Another man also had a big wrench. They came into the galley area and moved towards the bridge above. The ten men together went up, the cooks grabbing any knife they could find.

Upon entering the bridge, they found the two Korean officers standing there talking to each other in their native language. They both turned and stared as the ten Haitian crewmen came up onto the bridge. Both immediately grabbed for their weighted batons, began yelling at them to get off the bridge. The ten men rushed the two officers. In less than a minute, all three officers was restrained with their wrists behind them.

Once restrained, the mutineers moved aside to discuss what to do next. OK, they had the boat. Now what? And what about the passengers? They turned to the one who started the mutiny, Pierre Dominique. Pierre looked at his dark-skinned Haitian comrades and said, “OK, look. We can’t go back to Haiti. Jean will kill us all. I got a cousin who lives on the Caribbean side of Columbia. I say...”

Actually, Pierre had been thinking about this for some time now. The pay here was terrible. The food scarce. The work endless. The beatings must stop against his fellow Haitian sailors. Today he had finally snapped. Now, standing in front of the others, he outlined his admittedly sketchy plan. “We get to Columbia and we get back into the shipping business. Away from this! First, we get the passengers together on the back deck. Slow to a stop. Pull up the rubber raft, put the people and the Koreans in it and kick them loose. It’ll take almost a week to get to my cousin’s. By the time anyone finds them, we’ll be long gone.”

No one else had any idea what to do next, so Pierre’s idea seemed as good as any. The cooks went around to the fifteen passengers and told them they were wanted on the after deck. Once there, Pierre told them of the mutiny. “Not to worry! We’ll take good care of you! You’ll be put in our rubber lifeboat, set free and we’ll call the Coast Guard to come get you. No worry!” Then things began to go south.

First, Jean jumped down onto the rubber boat as it came alongside. He grabbed the gas tank and disconnected it, passing it up to the others. He didn’t want these people speeding to the nearest port. Two cooks decided to not mutiny and stay with the passengers. The passengers were made to hand over any cell phones they might have. Quickly, they made everyone get into the rubber dinghy, but it was obvious very soon that there just wasn’t enough room. Pierre was feeling like the man in charge, and decided right then to let his fetishes make the next call.

Pierre stood on the back of the yacht. “You, you, you and you, get back up here.” Four young girls were made to get out of the boat while the adults reshuffled themselves. Still, it was overcrowded. He looked around, then pointed to a younger girl. He barked, “You! Stand up here! We need a count!” Everyone thought he was going to pull the crewmen off and see if the girls could fit in their place. Instead, he turned to the man beside him. “Cast them off,” he said. He waved to the crewman up by the throttles. The yacht immediately began to move away from the dinghy as the twelve people in it yelled for them to come back, reaching out but too late. Slowly, the rubber dinghy drifted behind them, the people shouting, yelling until they were finally out of sight.