Chapter 2: Jellyfish

Once we had mounted the larger life raft and got situated, I broke down into tears. Matt and his sweetie hugged me and cuddled me, but Patricia was in worse shape. I held her in my lap and rocked her, but until I was cried out, I was inconsolable and otherwise useless.

It took air-sea rescue somewhat over twelve hours to find us. We were all naked and hot under the raft’s canopy. Sunburn would have been worse. Our clothes were spread out in the bottom of the smaller raft and were almost dry. They would be salty-dry, so nobody was in a hurry to dress. Besides, there is often something special in the relationship of mutual survivors. If we had ever cared about shared nudity in the past, it would never be a care again.

While we waited, Matt explained some of the action that I and the others didn’t understand.

Matt told us, “When I went to the helm on the way to help Bernie, I activated a handheld emergency dead man switch. We could use the switch to cut the John’s engines in an emergency – say if I fell overboard or was killed. We wouldn’t want the rafts or people run down by a still moving boat.” Matt grimaced, and continued, “I also radioed a Mayday call and activated the onboard emergency locator beacon. Unfortunately, I think the beacon was destroyed when the John exploded and sank.”

“Your devious brother,” he explained, “had placed several jerrycans of high-octane gasoline in the engine compartment, over the day fuel tank. The idea was, if the Hoppin’ John was ever going to be lost, send the bastards along with her and hope the crew and passengers could make it in the life rafts. Almost worked perfectly, almost.”

Dammitall, dammitall, dammit all!

“When I saw the hit, I knew, but I checked again to be sure,” Matt was crying, “so I pumped four rounds into the jerrycans and one into the day fuel, then I tossed down the igniter flare and threw the dead man switch overboard.”

Matt regained his composure, and looked around the life raft. He stood, and walked a wobbly walk to each of the survivors and placed both hands on their shoulders – me last. Then, very softly, he said, “Jess, if it matters any now, I’m pretty sure that guy you shot was the bastard that killed Bernie. They were both wearing green shirts, anyway.”

Then he spoke seriously to us all, “There’s going to be a shit storm over this already, and Jess doesn’t need any extra. So! She never shot anyone. All the pirates were either killed before the ship blew, or they died in the firestorm. That’s the story and we’re sticking to it. Agreed?”

I was truly surprised when there were seven nods – including mine. As far as I know, no one has broken that pact. It’s my secret, so I can choose to tell you.

So my brother’s blood bought the Jellyfish. Indirectly, anyway.

Dammitall, dammitall. Oh God, dammit all!

The company that owned the Hoppin’ John had her flagged in Puerto Rico. They won’t do that again, because the crew was covered under US Workers’ Compensation regulations. Our physical injuries were minor; the psychological trauma was significant. Puerto Rico paid out as they should, but the company’s rates went up.

But there was some screwy provision, at least company lawyers said so, and there was no death benefit payout. They refused to reimburse us for lost personal property. Assholes! I did get the payout of Bernie’s company life insurance – Bernie paid the premiums for that - and the very large payment from his private insurance. I was the named beneficiary for both.

Dammitall. Fuckin’ blood money! Pour, dammitall! Pour!

Turned out that said company screwed with the wrong people and really pissed them off.

Hoppin’ John‘s charter passengers were every bit as wealthy and powerful as we had supposed. I’ll still not name names, it isn’t important – just that they were as honest and honorable as they had presented themselves aboard. Did I say they were pissed? That doesn’t half describe the reaction when they heard how we were being stonewalled.

At first, I had no idea why they sued, or on what grounds. Usually they couldn’t because the company’s charter agreement required arbitration and prohibited lawsuits. The company’s agent in the Caymans must have been desperate for commissions, because he signed off anyway when the contract came back with the arbitration provision lined out and initialed.