Chapter 64: Pirates

It was mid-afternoon when we spotted the old trawler making its way at an angle directly towards us. Seeing other boats in the Caribbean was not unusual, there were lots of yachts and rental yachts out and about. But this one looked more like a fishing trawler, except there were no nets or other fishing paraphernalia scattered about. And we knew that it wasn’t unheard of for fishing boats to be out begging when fishing was poor.

When they were about a mile away, it begin to dawn on Captain Alfred that they might not be friendly. And as they came closer we could see that the crew was armed with a motley collection of old rifles and pistols. Captain Alfred didn’t think that we could outrun the trawler.

“Can you stop them son?” Captain Alfred asked, “I fear for the womenfolk if they pull alongside.”

I focused on their engine for a moment and it began to smoke. Seconds later there was a large puff of smoke and the pirates, for that’s what they were, began rushing around the deck. No life rafts came out and I wondered if they even had them. They began calling out to us for help, but we didn’t offer to stop and help them and continued sailing on past.

As I watched the pirate trawler disappear on the horizon behind us, I began to wonder if I could disrupt a human’s EMF enough to stop them or kill them. I had never thought of doing something like that, but it suddenly became clear that I needed to be able to defend those that I loved.

It was maybe an hour later that we came upon another smoking yacht. This one was sitting dead in the water and had two people on it that were waving a piece of cloth to signal us.

“Trim the sails, Alex,” Captain Alfred said. “I think we should take a closer look.

As we drew closer, everybody soon lined the rails to take a look. It was a rental catamaran, about 15 meters (50 feet) long and had the name of the rental company on the side of the boom bag (the place where the mainsail is stored when not in use). The two passengers were obviously females, wearing skimpy bikinis. They appeared to be late teens or early twenties. “Everyone should probably go get dressed,” Roland suggested.

“Help us please, our father is having a heart attack!” they cried when we were closer.

Captain Alfred called for Henri and Phillipe and instructed them to put out the fenders on our starboard side. The fenders were large plastic ball-shaped devices about a meter in diameter and tied to the rail to hang down the side of the hull to act as buffers when tied to a pier.

“Be on your guard and watch out for any tricks. They may not be as they seem,” he said.

I think it was their pitiful pleas that finally made the decision for him.

“Alex, when I come around, attach a line to the aft cleat and throw it to them and have them tie it off to their aft cleat. Then do the same to the fore cleat,” he instructed as he came around and approached the other catamaran on its port side to our starboard side.

With shouts and gestures, the girls finally understood what to do and soon the two catamarans were lashed together. I did add a third line to the center cleats for good measure.

Carina and Roland jumped across the narrow space between the yachts as Captain Alfred had pulled back on the throttles, just barely keeping enough speed for steerage.

The next thirty minutes were chaotic as Carina attended to the man. She said it didn’t appear to be a heart attack, but a stroke. She allowed me to do what I could for him, and I was able to stabilize him, but he couldn’t speak clearly. Part of his face had been paralyzed. He was going to need lots of rehab to get back to some semblance of normal. We were going to have to get him to a hospital, and in the islands, that usually meant an airport to fly him to a big island with a real hospital.

Carina had us move the conscious man and the two teens to our yacht because we had food, water, and medical supplies on board. We also had air conditioning.

“Check the map and find us an airport,” Captain Alfred instructed. He had his hands full with steering the two yachts.

“The Exuma International Airport at George Town is less than twelve miles ahead,” I told him. As I showed him the map. The challenge became finding a marina nearby. But all the marinas were on the other side of the island and would add hours to our trip. Finally, I noticed a beachside restaurant that appeared to have a small pier that we might tie up to. And it was less than two miles from the airport.