by T I WADE
By early afternoon they had drawn in the lines and a happy farewell was given by both groups as Marie carefully moved the ship away from the dock.
Pedro’s uncle was right. The crew checked to make sure everything was battened down for the storm, cleared the deck, and sealed all the guns and equipment below deck. Three hours later, and an hour before dark, the storm closed in around them. For the first time in the voyage, Mo felt the ship rise and fall with the waves sweeping in on their starboard bow. They had passed the southern tip and the lighthouse two hours earlier and, at six knots they were ten miles offshore and heading in an east-northeast direction which would take them between Mexico and the closest Cuban point of land 200 miles away.
The storm pounded them. They stayed awake all night as it was too rough to sleep. Mo was happy that the senator in Colombia had picked a Coast Guard vessel. With the small engine running at high cruise they were only achieving four knots, the ship having to fight its way through the ten-foot waves, spray flying over the bow as it surged down into the next trough.
Just before midnight Mo went below to the engine room and the forward gun compartment to check for leaks. The ship was holding up well and had a few drops of water here and there, but all the equipment was dry.
It was too rough to make coffee and they ate fruit and cookies. The youngsters tried to watch a movie, but that was too difficult, the television wanting to fall out of its space, and in the end they had a slumber party on the floor and ate cookies and drank Cokes, trying to ignore the storm.
Marie told him that it was far too early for hurricane season, which would start in a couple of months’ time, and this storm was just a front or low coming across.
Mo sat holding Beatrice’s hand on the couch for most of the night, the two ladies taking shifts at the wheel.
By dawn there was no let up, except that the wind had died down somewhat; the waves weren’t as big, but the rain was heavy and visibility down to the length of the ship.
At midday, on the third day out from Pedro’s farm, the rain ceased a little but the wind rose to thirty-knot gusts making their forward movement slow. By evening the rain had stopped, but the wind still howled across their bow.
They had left the last tip of Mexico on the radar sixty miles away and twelve hours earlier, but in the first day they had only covered a hundred miles. Havana was now about a hundred miles to their east and they expected to pass by sixty miles north of the city, again getting the northern coastline of that country on their radar.
Early on the fourth day and an hour before dawn, the storm finally left them, the sea smoothed out, and their speed crept up to six knots. The coast of Cuba passed by on the screen fifty miles to the east of them. Mo changed course to the northeast; he was aiming towards the Key West area.
It was the wrong move, but he didn’t know it then. Cuba had no bad guys patrolling the waters, Florida did.
They slept in shifts most of that day and Beatrice turned the ship eastwards just after lunch. By late afternoon, Key West appeared on the radar screen thirty miles north of them and they couldn’t see any blips on the radar.
Mo wanted to head for North Carolina or Virginia, where he knew the U.S. Navy would be stationed, and he didn’t want to meet anybody until then. The ship’s direction took her thirty miles south of the islands east of Key West.
At midnight Mo turned northeast again as the sea began to get a little rougher, a good breeze coming in from the north. Earlier they had discussed their route, deciding to close in a little more towards land and follow the islands around the bottom of Florida at twenty miles. They were well over the horizon and hopefully away from searching eyes.
Dawn raised its lazy head to a decent sea with long swells coming in from the east. They had finished breakfast when Mo had a feeling that he needed to get the weaponry back on the deck.
Only thirty minutes later Marie shouted out to him that six blips were heading towards them from an area south of Miami and were traveling fast. Mo shouted at her to turn east, start the bigger engines and increase up to twelve knots. He spent another thirty minutes getting ammo and the two guns ready, even firing several rounds off to make sure.
The sea had calmed a little as the sun rose. The heat increased to over seventy degrees as he headed back to the bridge. The ship was now heading away from the U.S. and a decent wave was breaking away from the bow of the ship.
“The six blips are now only ten miles behind us and they are approaching at about thirty knots. I think they are fast speed boats because they are showing the same size as that one you nearly went down with. There is no way we can outrun them, whoever they are.”
“Marie, turn northeast. If we are using all this fuel and they are official police or military boats coming out to check us, then we might as well sail closer to our destination,” suggested Mo. “Also turn the radar to maximum. There could be others close by.”
Marie did and three more dots appeared about forty miles southeast of them. Mo studied them for several minutes. “It looks like those blips are far bigger and heading north rapidly. If we continue our direction, we will be in sight of them in about an hour.”
“I can just see the speed boats on the horizon,” shouted Beatrice looking behind them with binoculars.
Mo was in a dilemma. There were two sets of boats. One group of boats was heading directly towards them from the U.S. coast. The other, much larger dots on radar looked like they had no interest in them and would pass them about twenty miles further out.
“Marie, the safest place to be is in sight of both sets of boats. Whoever they are, I hope that at least one of the groups is friendly. I have a feeling that the ones behind are not people we want to meet. They are coming after us, while the three larger dots look like they are not interested in us and will sail past us. Go to full speed and set a course to meet the three vessels out there and get as close as we can to them before somebody makes a move.”
Marie followed his instructions and, with both big Cummins at full power, the speed slowly rose to 21 knots. Mo looked at the radar screen; the six boats were still five miles behind, but the gap diminished even as their speed increased.
Thirty minutes later the speed boats were less than half a mile behind and the three growing dots on the radar screen were still fifteen miles away and about to pass them due east of their position. Marie turned slightly northwards as Mo exited the starboard bridge door and, holding onto the rail, worked his way forward. A mortar projectile flew over the ship and hit the water a couple of hundred feet away. A second and then a third projectile was only a minute behind when Mo got to his mortar and turned it towards the oncoming ships. He heard machine gun fire and saw a line of bullets hit the water behind them.
He was as ready as he ever would be. Looking into the sights he found the general area where the boats were slicing through the water towards him. They were tightly packed. He picked up and armed three mortar bombs, looked through the sights and tightened them down on the lead boat. He had seen a mortar demonstration in China and knew that he could drop a mortar down the three-foot tube as soon as the one before was discharged. He remembered to get his hands away as another bomb landed in the water only feet from where he crouched.
He fired off three bombs as fast as they could escape the tube, dug into the box, and armed three more. The chasing boats got the shock of their lives as three explosions plowed into the water around them; this was not something they were expecting.
Mo felt good as he adjusted his sights on the slowing boats and slipped in three more rounds. He waited patiently as the boats slowed; he had allowed for that. His fourth bomb landed only feet short of the lead boat as it turned, the next closer and the last bomb blew it to bits in a massive orange explosion. Suddenly the five remaining boats made a line and aimed north, speeding past him about three hundred yards away, with several machine guns opening up on him. He rose and aimed the heavy machine gun at the closest boat and pulled the trigger; the rounds fe
ll short, but he realized that with the water explosions he could right his aim to compensate by looking where the previous shots hit the water.
He quickly pulled his aim higher and saw several pieces of a boat’s woodwork fly into the air, including a body, before all five boats turned the way they had come, and at full speed headed out of range. Mo was sure he saw smoke pouring out of the one he had hit.
“Beatrice, get me more mortar bombs. I only have three left out here!” He had explained the different ammo boxes to her and seconds later she and Virginie emerged dragging two boxes along the deck.
“I’m reducing speed, Mo, the engine temperatures are getting hot,” shouted Marie, and Mo felt the ship slow down slightly. Suddenly Marie screamed and he looked up to see three of the boats approaching fast and he heard the first explosion several yards off their port bow. The girls brought him the two boxes each with three bombs and he told them to get back inside and get ready to bring more as bullets stated hitting around them. He jumped for the machine gun, swung it to where the boats were and began firing. They suddenly slowed, each let off a mortar bomb, turned and screamed away.
Mo got their range and he peppered the rear of one of the boats before it got out of range. The bombs came close, two only yards behind the ship and one in front which drenched him as they ploughed through the hole where it had gone in seconds earlier.
“How far are the other ships?” Mo shouted to Marie.
“Nine miles, and now heading directly towards us at nearly forty knots! Mo, they must be warships at that speed, have radar or seen the explosion.” Mo looked up and saw a black cloud of smoke hanging over the horizon where the first boat had exploded.
Two of the speed boats began to head in again, their bows rising as they accelerated. He armed all nine bombs and got ready. They were certainly getting his ship’s range, but he was also learning fast. He also noticed the other three turning and realized they were going to get behind him, where the machine gun couldn’t be used.
“Beatrice, Lu, load two automatic rifles and go the back of the ship. It looks like they are going to attack us from where I can’t shoot!” screamed Mo as he saw the other two coming into range.
He was right. The other three boats came in behind and he changed position to aim the machine gun at the first two, letting out a long burst of fire. The closest one fired a mortar as his rounds peppered the boat and the driver veered around to head back, another body falling over the side as it turned away sharply. The second one came straight in as his gun stopped firing. He needed to change belts.
The bomb landed harmlessly several yards short and he aimed his mortar. The second boat was a little closer than the three coming in from behind and his quick brain worked out a plan.
There was little in the way of the mortar bomb if he pointed it over the ship, the bomb exiting nearly vertical. He watched through the site as the first boat let a mortar off and he slid two bombs in quickly towards the incoming boat and then turned the mortar around towards the other three now directly behind.
Bullets started buzzing around him and ricocheting off the steel harmlessly. He couldn’t aim at the boats behind, but they looked to be at about the same distance, and he let five bombs scream out of the tube one after the other. The first bomb landed close to the second speed boat and it veered off again. As the second bomb hit the water less than a foot behind it, a large wall of water swamped the turning boat and it stopped dead in the water.
Mo was about to get his last two mortars into the tubes when he saw the next two of his five shots straddle the first boat, causing the second boat to plough through a wall of water where the third bomb had a made a hole, and the third boat turned away as the fourth and fifth bombs landed close enough to soak its occupants.
“Bring three more boxes, Beatrice,” shouted Mo as he turned to begin loading the machine gun. The attack boats needed a couple of minutes to pump bilge water out of their boats, giving Mo a few minutes to prepare for the next attack. Mo had the machine gun ready and eight more mortar bombs armed when they began to close. This time they formed a line just out of range, stayed about eight hundred yards away, and at full speed began to circle the ship, much like the Indians did on horseback in the cowboy days. They completed one turn and one at the back turned in as one in the front did the same. There was no way Mo could cover both and he began firing the machine gun at the lead boat.
“Fire at the rear boat!” he screamed at the ladies behind. The front boat pulled away, but then two others came in on either side. He fired at the one off the port bow hoping that the girls were dealing with the others. He hit one of them as it came in and his bullets ripped it to pieces, the bow going in and stopping. He turned to face the other one on the starboard side and got off several rounds before a massive column of water exploded yards from the incoming boat, throwing somebody into the water. The boat turned on a dime and headed away northwards.
“What have the girls found to that is so big?” he thought as he felt something graze his side. The front boat off his port bow was shooting at him. It did not see the Light Frigate approaching until it had unloaded several rounds, one entering Mo’s side.
Mo hadn’t seen the naval ships either, but watched as the boat shooting at him was lifted up, exploded in the air, fell back and disappeared with hundreds of pieces of debris shooting out in all directions. He suddenly felt weak and sat down, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the dropping boat parts and bodies making hundreds of splashes as they hit the water. He looked over to the west and saw the last two boats, one still smoking badly, heading as fast as they could back to Florida. Before he passed out, he heard the siren of a ship off in the distance and it sounded pretty powerful.
He awoke a couple of hours later in a hospital ward with a doctor or medic looking at him. Beatrice’s face was also there and he felt her holding his left hand.
“It’s time you woke up, Mo,” she stated.
“Am I alive, or in heaven?” he asked, looking into her beautiful face and putting on a weak smile.
“You have lost a lot of blood, but the medic says that it is a clean wound, didn’t hit any bones or vital organs, and you should be OK in a few days. We are heading to Virginia with the Colombian Navy. Marie has control of our ship and the good news is that your baby has no damage.
Several hours later he awoke again. This time nobody was sitting with him. He tried to sit up and the same medic returned and in English told him to rest. It was midnight and he needed more sleep.
Mo dreamed funny dreams, about being on a mortar bomb and watching as the bomb and he descended onto a speed boat. It was going to miss and he leaned over to try and steer it towards the boat. Suddenly he saw lots of girls in the boat looking up at him and he tried to steer the bomb away and suddenly sat up. He was still in the hospital and he felt the pain in his side.
A new medic returned and asked if he was hungry. Mo was a little and the medic helped him get dressed, not in his clothes but a set of military overalls.
His side was sore, but he felt OK, not dizzy or sick anymore, and he was rather looking forward to some food. This ship was far bigger than the Cutter. After climbing slowly up two levels of stairs he was helped into a dining room where eight chairs waited for people to use them. He noticed four sets of cutlery on the table and three men in the room waiting for him.
“Good morning, Señor Wang, please take the nearest seat. You look far better than when we carried you aboard yesterday. You have been asleep for 18 hours,” stated a man with a very flashy uniform. Mo knew that he was a man of high rank.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” bowed Mo, and he took the closest seat and sat down. “I assume it is you I must thank you for saving our lives yesterday.”
“Not really, Señor Wang. You were doing a pretty good job sorting out your own problems. We were watching you for a few minutes when we realized that their tactics were getting better. One man can only shoot in so many directions and I think you had reached the
maximum number of directions you could shoot. I think that you would have scared them off if you had beaten them back one more time, but we decided to intervene. Maybe I should introduce myself. I’m Admiral Luiz Rodriquez, head of the Colombian Naval Forces. This is the Captain of this ship, Commander Perez, and his first officer Captain Ortez.” The men shook hands and they were served breakfast. “You have certainly got a good-looking crew, Señor Wang,” carried on Admiral Rodriquez. “My sailors could hardly keep their eyes off all the beautiful ladies and the fancy weapons you are carrying aboard. May I assume you have international papers to own one heavy 7.62-mm machine gun, one 80-mm mortar and American M-16 automatic rifles at sea?”
“Have you or your men been aboard, Admiral?” Mo asked.
“I was thinking of searching your vessel, Señor Wang, until we realized that we weren’t in any danger from your crew, or family, except for maybe our sailors wanting to jump ship. It is a very strange ship you have, Señor, half steel and half wood and it looks like her lines are half yacht and half….”
“Military vessel,” helped Mo.
“Yes, you took the words out of my mouth. When we first saw you, you looked like a type of vessel which would be owned by either a very rich man or a man smuggling drugs. I first thought you were the rich man, not the drug smuggler until I saw the array of weapons on your bow. That got me thinking. You were fighting off drug smugglers or pirates who wanted your ship for themselves, which increased my good thoughts about you. Of course, as soon as I saw your crew, I couldn’t believe that a low-life gangster would find that many beautiful European girls as crew members. So, I decided not to board your ship yet. She sails well at 15 knots and we are prepared to escort you to your destination which, funnily enough, is the direction we are going. Now that you are feeling better, I would like to have a tour of your ship as soon as our breakfast is over and we transfer you back to your vessel.” Mo nodded his approval.
