Pursuing Chase

by C J Schnier

  “Alright, now it’s time for another beer!” he exclaimed before once again disappearing down the companionway.

  Within seconds he had returned, carrying two beers, one of which he thrust in my face. Grateful, I took it from him. I knew that after such a hard day I needed to drink water, but the allure of an ice-cold brew was just too strong. Popping the top, I held my can up in salute to Andy before taking a huge swig. Putting the can down I checked our heading and then looked from him to the flag fluttering overhead.

  “So, a pirate flag huh?” I asked with mock disbelief.

  “Yup,” he replied, taking a swig from his own beer.

  “Is that supposed to strike fear in his heart and make him give up when he sees us?”

  “If he knows what's good for him it will.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” I prodded.

  “Then we will take both of them back by force. No tricks, just the element of surprise and overwhelming force.”

  “So that’s your big plan?”

  “Yup.”

  “You’re enjoying this,” I stated.

  “You’re god damned right I am. It’s about time I had some fun on this trip.”

  I rubbed my weary eyes, fighting the oncoming exhaustion. “Andy, that all sounds great, but I’ve had a hell of a day. Would you mind taking over so I could get some shuteye?”

  “Oh right! I’m sorry! I just got caught up in the pursuit, Chase. By all means, make yourself at home on the salon settees. I’d give you the v-berth but it leaks like a sieve, and it’s basically just sail storage.”

  “No worries, the settees will be fine, I prefer a more midship berth when underway anyhow. But all the physical and emotional stress of the day just hit me like a semi truck, I need to rest,” I said, finally giving in to the exhaustion.

  “Of course amigo, there are sheets in the locker above the port settee. Get some rest, you won’t be any good for Kelly or Paramour if you’re too tired to fight,” he said dismissing me.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled with a half-hearted wave.

  I staggered down the companionway steps without injuring myself. This was a notable feat of difficulty considering the extreme angle of heel that Romulus maintained as she tore through the azure waters in pursuit of her sister ship.

  Moving from handhold to handhold I maneuvered myself to the leeward settee and allowed myself to fall face first into the padded cradle it was making. I must have been snoring before I even hit the cushion.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Romulus never let up, she held a speed of over seven knots the entire way to Freeport. Within nine hours of departing we had arrived at the city under cover of darkness. Andy, not to be deterred by such trifles as lack of visibility or prearranged reservations, piloted his vessel into the harbor and then into an empty slip at a marina before we both fell asleep.

  At 0700 we awoke to rapping on the hull and then moments later a more aggressive pounding followed. Burying my head under a pillow I groaned and tried to ignore it, we had only been asleep for less than two hours. Andy, on the other hand, got up, opened his cabin door and walked to the companionway, naked except for his boxers, which were a welcome change from the kilt he had worn all the way here.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he croaked as he unlocked the hatch doors.

  Andy threw the doors open and stuck his head out, climbing halfway up the stairs to see better.

  “What?!” he roared.

  “Sir, you can’t just dock your boat here without a reservation,” a polite but firm voice responded.

  “And who the hell are you?”

  “The dockmaster of this marina.”

  “Is this how you treat all potential customers who come in late? I guess your half-empty marina is so popular that you can just turn away business. Is that it?”

  “Well, no sir, but this is private property, and we did not have a reservation for you,” the dockmaster replied, starting to backpedal.

  “We come in, after a long passage, hoping to get a slip for a few days. We pick the emptiest looking marina around, hoping to spend some of our hard-earned dollars and to rest for a while. But instead of welcoming us, you wake us up at the ass-crack of dawn with your god awful knocking.”

  “But you are trespassing, you must leave,” the dockmaster stated.

  “What if we don’t want to leave?” Andy challenged.

  “I’m afraid you must. Unless of course, you want to part with some of that hard-earned cash you claim to have. You know, so that the owner might turn his head the other way,” the man said.

  “You want a bribe? Seriously?”

  “Consider it a “Service Fee.”

  I rolled over on my back and put my arms behind my head. This was getting interesting.

  “Service fee my ass. Piracy if you ask me.”

  The man said nothing and, frustrated, Andy turned to me.

  “Got any cash Chase? This prick wants a bribe for us to stay here.”

  I just stared at him in mild disbelief. What my mom would have referred to as a “bless his heart” kind of look.

  “Oh right, I guess you wouldn’t would you? Shit, alright,” he conceded.

  Andy walked back to his room and came out with a crisp $50 bill in his hand. He climbed the stairs and must have handed it to the dockmaster.

  “Thanks. You can stay here for a few days. The rates are $2 per foot per day. Please come to the office and pay once you get some rest. I am sorry to have bothered you so early,” the man said in a pleasant yet smug way.

  “Yeah, I bet you’re sorry. Fifty bucks worth of sorry. Don’t go too far pal, for my money I am expecting a little information on where I can find some stuff, or some people in town,” Andy.

  “Of course sir, however I can be of service, just ask,” the dockmaster replied in a friendly tone.

  The man’s footsteps clunked down the dock as he walked away. Andy stayed in the companionway watching him until long after The sound of the footsteps faded.

  “Pirates man. Fuckin’ pirates. The lot of them,” Andy said at last when he came back down below.

  “Maybe he saw your flag and figured you for an easy mark,” I suggested.

  “Very funny,” he said. “Since we’re both up, you want some coffee and breakfast?”

  “That sounds awesome. How long did we sleep anyways?”

  “Only two hours,” he answered, while he put a kettle of water on the stove.

  After a few minutes of waiting on the water to boil, I thought about how much help Andy was offering. “Hey, about the bribe money and the dock fees. I’ll pay you back once we get to Kelly and Paramour. We still have a bit of money saved up in our stash,”

  “I don’t want your drug money, Chase. I’m doing this to help you and Kelly. You two don’t deserve this,” Andy said staring at the tea kettle as the first wisps of steam escaped.

  “You were pretty pissed about paying him. I just thought I’d offer,” I said and moved over to the dinette table. “So how's that coffee coming?”

  “I’m still paying child support on my kids, and fifty bucks is fifty bucks. Know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. Before I ended up running drugs for the Acosta Cartel, and hell, even after that, until Kelly came into my life, I was broke. Not just broke, but I didn’t have two pennies to rub together. After we set her father up to take the fall, I was left with nothing. When she tracked me down a few weeks later, I was sitting in a bar drinking my last twenty bucks away. So yeah, I get it.”

  Andy nodded and turned back to the kettle just as its shrill whistle started to sound.

  “How do you like your coffee?” he asked, turning off the stove.

  “Black and strong. The only way to drink coffee.”

  “Black and strong coming up,” he said before dumping some coffee grounds into a big French Press and pouring the water over it.

  “Do you really think we’ll be able to find Paramour or Kelly here?”

 
; Andy stared into the French Press for a moment before turning to me. I could see the determination, the resolve to find Kelly at all costs. But I could also sense the doubt in his own mind. There were so many places that they could have gone. Once again I found myself wondering how this cartel stooge had managed to find us over and over.

  “Look, Freeport makes the most sense. It is populated, and it has an airport. Plus, it was relatively easy to get to from where we were. Nassau could have been a possibility, but Freeport was closer. And with his paycheck onboard, he’ll be looking to cash in as quick as possible. Especially after all the hell you two have put him through. I doubt he is accustomed to being outsmarted.”

  “I agree, Freeport makes the most sense. So assuming we are right and he came here, how do we find him? There are dozens of marinas and even a couple anchorages if I remember right.”

  “Nobody really anchors here, and believe me, he’ll want a slip. He doesn’t know your boat, and it would be easier for him to tie off somewhere instead. Plus that gives him access to shore to move Kelly when the time is right,” Andy pointed out.

  Andy poured us each a mug of hot coffee and placed mine in front of me. Grateful, I took a sip that scorched my lips. Just the way I like it. Andy slid into the dinette seat across from me and held on to his mug for a moment, letting it cool before taking his first sip.

  “But that brings up another point Andy, what if he moves her from the boat? Like to a hotel or something?” I asked, realizing just how hard it may be to find them.

  “One thing at a time Tiger. First, we’ve got to find the boat. From there we’ll just have to play it by ear and make our plans as we go.”

  “Alright, we’ll improvise. Any ideas on where to look for Paramour?”

  “Good old fashioned leg work I guess,” he replied.

  We both drank some more of our coffee while we mulled over our dilemma.

  “Actually, I think there’s a cruiser’s VHF net that starts soon. We could cut in towards the end and ask them if they’ve seen Paramour. She’s pretty hard to miss, and I doubt that our friend would be listening,” I offered.

  “That’s a good idea, any clue what channel they’d be on?”

  “Nope. Guess I’ll just have to search through the channels the good old fashioned way,” I said mocking his earlier phrase.

  “How can you cut jokes in a time like this?” he asked me with acute seriousness.

  “I don’t know, it’s just how I’ve always been. The tenser the situation, the more smart-ass I become. I think one of my ex-girlfriends said I used humor as a crutch so that I didn’t have to feel real emotions. Whatever that means. It probably doesn’t help that I’m a smart-ass to begin with either.”

  “Well that’s fine with me, as long as you’re taking it all serious,” Andy said.

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little skirt about that, I am taking it very seriously.”

  “It’s a kilt, asshole.”

  I laughed at that and shrugged. “What’d I tell you? I’m a smart-ass.”

  We both chuckled, releasing some of the tension we were both feeling, and relaxed as much as we could with our coffee. The respite from the stress was very much-needed and appreciated.

  After a moment and stood up. “Speaking of kilts, I guess I should get dressed,” Andy said and drained his cup of joe.

  “God, you’re not going to wear that thing again are you?”

  “It’s comfortable in this heat, but no. I think blending in is a better idea.”

  “Well, since we’re on a manhunt, I wholeheartedly agree, that is probably a good idea,” I replied. “Speaking of clothes, do you think I could borrow some? These are getting a little crunchy with all the salt.”

  “And smelly. Your stench is ruining my coffee. But, I’ve got some clothes that should fit you.”

  “Just as long as they’re not kilts,” I stipulated.

  “Try one on one day. You might like them,” he said.

  “Oh, I’ve actually got two. It isn’t the kilt itself, it’s just that I don’t want to wear one of yours. I don’t know where that thing has been,” I said lightheartedly.

  “I’m going to make sure you have to wear one of them now,” he said in between laughs.

  “You had better have some shorts and a shirt, or I’m stealing your wallet and going to town.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch Chase. I’ve got something that will fit you, I’m sure of it.”

  He did have something that fit. He went into his cabin and a moment later produced a pair of wrinkled camo shorts that looked like they had lived in the deepest bowels of the boat for years. They were the kind of shorts that had huge billowing cargo pockets on the thighs, modeled loosely on military fatigues. He also handed me a plain gray t-shirt that was rolled in a military fashion.

  Grateful for the fresh clothes I excused myself to the head and turned on the shower. Andy had installed one of those propane, instant-on hot water heaters, and within seconds the shower was pouring out steaming hot water. A shower had never felt so good. Rinsing salt and grime from my hair and body, I finished up a few minutes later feeling like a new man.

  “You about ready to track down this bastard?” Andy asked from the other side of the door.

  “Absolutely,” I answered, slipping into my borrowed clothes.

  “Alright, I’m gonna go see that dickhead in the marina and see if he can help. You get on the VHF and see if you can get the word out on the cruiser’s net,” he commanded, all business now.

  “Aye aye, Captain, I’m on it. Let’s find this prick and get both my girls back!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Flipping through static-filled channels on the VHF is about as much fun as watching barnacles grow. After nearly twenty minutes I was starting to think that perhaps this wasn’t the best use of my time when the sudden squawk of a female American voice boomed from the radio. At 0815, I had finally found the cruiser’s net on channel 68. Maybe here I could get a fix on Paramour’s location.

  All across the world, and especially in the Caribbean, cruising sailors get together on VHF channels in major ports to update each other on all manner of life. Some listen in and take part for the social aspect, others are looking to buy or sell equipment, and yet others are just there to look for other cruisers that they may know in the harbor. It is a terrific resource for the isolated boating community, but it comes with its own set of drawbacks.

  Most cruiser’s networks have a relatively rigid structure, mostly due to necessity. Only one person may talk at a time on any given VHF channel. If two try to speak at the same time, a garbled transmission may be picked up, or whoever has the stronger signal may overpower the other person, often with a lot of static and interference.

  By necessity, one person is in charge of the broadcast, and nobody else is allowed to interrupt except in the case of a dire emergency. Me asking if anyone had seen Paramour was not by their definition an emergency. Though if they knew the real reason, perhaps they would change their minds.

  Somehow, telling a bunch of strangers that someone hijacked my boat and kidnapped my girlfriend did not seem like a useful tactic. I was all but certain that they would point me towards the island police, an organization I had no intention of contacting. Trying to explain the situation to them could land me in a Bahamian jail. Andy and I had to do this on our own.

  The woman’s voice on the radio droned on and on without any sign of stopping. First, she started with the news. A continuing rip current warning was in effect. One of the channel markers into a marina had gone missing. It was all quite tedious and boring to sit through, but I waited patiently. Next came the upcoming social events, a potluck on the beach, movie night, and a beach bar get together amongst several other events. This list just did not end.

  It was agonizing waiting for the net to open up so that others could talk. All I wanted was to ask a quick fifteen-second question and get a couple of responses. The whole thing would take less t
han a minute or at most two. Yet I was being forced to wait while the net host carried on about their meaningless events. My mind kept turning to Kelly. Every second wasted was another second that the cartel’s goon could use to hide her, or worse, decide she was worth more dead than alive.

  Finally, the host moved on past the social events. In this part of the broadcast she opened up the conversation to others looking to buy or sell gear or to ask about other cruisers. I had waited for this exact part of the net program. I grabbed the mic to speak but was forced to wait a couple more minutes for some faster radio jockeys to finish their inquiries and sales notices. Finally, right as the second one wrapped up their speech I keyed the mic and spoke before anyone else could.

  “This is sailing vessel Romulus, I was wondering if anybody had seen a sailboat by the name of Paramour, again, Paramour, in the area. She’s a 1976 Ta Chiao CT-35 wooden masted ketch. White with blue trim and canvas. She also has a pilothouse. We were sailing together, but they got a head start and should have made it into harbor yesterday afternoon or evening. I haven’t been able to hail them on the radio and was worried, over,” I spoke slow and clearly into the microphone before un-keying the talk button.

  Several seconds of dead air passed before the static crackle of a reply finally came.

  “Romulus, this is Avant Garde. I believe your friends are in Sunset Bay Resort and Marina with us. A wooden masted pilothouse ketch came in last night right at sunset. Beautiful looking boat, my wife and I were trying to figure out what make it was. We thought she must have been a Formosa, though we’ve never seen one quite like her. I hope that helps, over,” said a British voice from the radio.

  “Avant Garde, thank you so much for the information. That certainly sounds like my friends. Can you tell me where that marina is? I’ve never been to Freeport, over,” I said hoping for more than just a name.

  “Of course I can Romulus. The entrance to the marina is located between John Jack Point and Madioca Point, just west of Williams Town and just inland of the Xanadu Beach Resort. That’s the best I can do for you. Avant Garde out,” the British gentleman said, ending our conversation.