by Philip Roy
Desperately, I grabbed the kayak, carried it up, and started inflating it. I thought I saw another man in the water now, but his head was down. Good Lord, what had I done?
The kayak was inflated in just a couple of minutes. I dropped it into the water and gave it a hard push towards the pirates. Then, I flung the lifebuoy with all my might, and it landed not too far away. They could grab it if they wanted to, to help their mates. But they never did. Two of the pirates took hold of the kayak and climbed in. The others still clung to pieces of the boat. I glanced at the centre boat and saw the captain wave. Then the other motorboat came speeding around from the other side. I ducked inside and pulled the hatch down. A bullet ricocheted off the portal. I sealed the hatch, climbed down, and submerged again. I went under the centre boat and up the other side. I surfaced, opened the hatch, and called to the captain of the larger boat. “Hey! Are you okay?”
He came out from hiding. He was holding his arm. “I’m okay,” he yelled. “Just my arm. Thank you, my friend!”
“Can you sail?”
“No! The engine’s buggered. Any chance you can tow me?”
I nodded. “Throw me a line.”
He waved with his good arm, crept low along the cabin to the bow, and tied a towing rope. He did his best to toss the rope across the water. I motored closer. “Can you watch them while I tie the line?” I yelled.
“You bet!”
I climbed out with the gaff, grabbed the rope, and tied it quickly to a handle on the portal. I kept my head down and one eye on the other motorboat. It was a smaller boat than the one I had destroyed. They had picked up three other pirates, and now all five were staring into the water. I didn’t know if they were searching for pieces of the boat, or for their guns, or for their mates. I counted seven men all together, with two in the kayak. There was one missing. At least they had stopped shooting, and were waving to the captain not to shoot them while they rescued their mates. He could easily have shot them now if he wanted to. I was glad he didn’t. They would have.
“Should I ride with you?” he yelled.
I shook my head. I didn’t know if I could trust him. I didn’t trust anyone here. With his boat in tow, I headed towards shore. I kept an eye on the pirates as we pulled away from them. Now there were seven of them in the one boat, and they were heading off in the other direction. Their little boat was dangerously overloaded now. It was low in the water, in danger of capsizing. And they had my kayak in tow.
Chapter Twenty-seven
I FELT AWFUL. I had killed somebody. I couldn’t believe it. And I couldn’t seem to make it better any way I looked at it. Yes, I had rescued Mickey. That was his name. He was a wreck diver. They would surely have killed him, and taken his boat, and all of his diving equipment, and sold it, and received money for it, and bought drugs and guns. But I had prevented them. And one of the pirates had drowned.
I wished I had done something differently. I wished I could have rescued Mickey without killing anyone. But there had been so little time. And I really didn’t know what else I could have done. How could I have known they were going to move closer just when we came through?
Mickey didn’t have any problem with it at all. He seemed glad the young pirate had died. We talked about it after I towed him to Port Edward. There was no pier there, so we both dropped anchor close to the beach. I pulled his towline taut and tied it to the portal. Then I jumped onto his boat. He shook my hand and gave me a hug, which was more like a pounding on my back. “Where in the Lord’s name did you come from?” he said. “One minute, I’m a goner; the next, I see this creature come out of the deep and cut that boat in half. For a moment, I thought it was Divine Intervention. Hah! I am forever in your debt, my young friend. What’s your name?”
“Alfred.”
“Alfred. My name is Mickey. I’m from Cape Town. I’m a wreck diver. I’ve spent my life on these waters, and below them, but I’ve never seen a vessel like yours. Where do you hail from, Alfred?”
“Newfoundland.”
“And where would that be?”
“It’s in Canada. How is your arm?”
“Ahh, I’ve had worse. They just grazed the skin. A few stitches and a pint of rum and I’ll be one hundred percent. The recipe: one part to the wound; ten parts to the belly. Hah, hah! You’ll come into town with me?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Those pirates have been chasing me ever since northern Mozambique. I thought I had lost them, but they’ll follow me to the ends of the earth. I don’t want to leave my sub alone.”
“True enough. They chased you that long? There’s only one reason for that. You took something of theirs, or you killed one of them.”
“I killed one of them today.”
“Nah! You never killed him at all. He done himself in the moment he joined that band of thieves and murderers. Good thing, too. Don’t you carry that young fella’s death on your conscience, Alfred, because it don’t belong there. He died trying to rob and kill somebody, and don’t you ever forget that!”
In my head, I knew that he was right. In my heart, I didn’t. “They’ve been chasing me because I sank a boat of theirs. It was full of guns and drugs.”
“Yah, I’d say that would do it. Are you sure you won’t come in to town with me now? You look like you could use a drink, my son.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I’d rather not. I think I need to spend some time alone. Thank you, though.”
“I understand, my friend. I understand. But listen to me. You must go to the dock at Port Elizabeth. Go to one of the navy ships you see there. The harbour patrol boats, not the big one.”
“The navy?”
“Yes, yes, the navy. They’re terrific guys. My best friend is called François. You will find him on one of the patrol boats. Ask for him. Go and tell him everything you have seen of the pirates.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes, of course. They are trying to catch them, you see. They’ll find your information helpful. The pirates never used to be so bold. Never used to come so far south. Now, they’re in our backyard all the time. They’re an awful menace, as you have seen firsthand. Go see François. Tell him that Mickey sent you.”
“I don’t know . . . I usually avoid police and navy vessels because I am not here legally. I never made a legal point of entry or had my passport stamped.”
“Bahhhhhh! That means nothing to them. Just tell them that Mickey sent you. I will call ahead. They’ll be waiting for you. I promise you. Will you trust me on this?”
I stared into his sunburnt and weathered face. He was wrinkled like an old potato. He looked wild, but honest enough. “I guess so.”
“Good!” He touched his sore arm and winced. “I’d better go for my medicine.” He gripped my shoulder with his good hand. “I will never forget you, young Alfred. I am in your debt for life. And I always pay my debts. You need something—anything—you call me, and I will do everything in my power to help you. You hear me?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. Safe travels, my friend.”
“Safe travels.”
Mickey climbed into a small dinghy and rowed to shore with his good arm. I waved. Then, I untied his tow line, tossed it onto his boat, climbed into the sub, and sailed away.
Sailing into Port Elizabeth was the very first time we ever sailed into a port on the surface, in the light of day, and didn’t try to hide. It was such a strange feeling it made my toes curl. I flew the Canadian flag. I didn’t have a South African one. From four miles out, I reached the port authority on short wave and told them who I was, and that I was supposed to meet a naval vessel on military business. That sounded so official, but I didn’t know what else to say. I was told by a very severe lady to stay on the surface, and that I would be met by harbour officials. She sounded like the strictest teacher you’d ever likely meet, and it made me glad I wasn’t in school anymore. I knew that, by the Law of the Sea, I only had to be on the surface when I was w
ithin the three-mile limit. But I obeyed anyway. The whole thing made me very nervous, and I stayed ready to flee if I saw anything I didn’t like. I was trusting Mickey. I hoped that was right.
Port Elizabeth was a big city, with a wide harbour. I sailed in at a steady fifteen knots, giving them time to come out and meet me. But no one showed up until I was only a mile and a half from the dock. Then, two boats came racing out from different directions. I cut the engine, drifted to a stop, raised the binoculars, and watched them approach.
One boat looked as though it carried harbour officials. The other was navy. They arrived at the same time, although the navy boat had to race to catch up. As they reached me, I saw the naval officers wave the harbour officials away. “We’ve got this! We’ve got it! No worries!”
But the harbour officials didn’t like that. They were insisting upon inspecting the sub. Then one of the naval officers jumped into the other boat and had a word with them. I heard him say something about it being a sensitive military matter, and that the harbour officials should stand down. They didn’t like that at all, but they obeyed. The harbour boat turned around and went back. The two naval officers threw me a line. I tied it to a handle, and they jumped onto the hull.
“You must be Alfred,” said one of them. He was a tall, tough-looking sailor with black curly hair. “I’m François. This is Major Richards.”
“Tom,” said the other man.
I shook their hands. They were both big tough guys, and I wouldn’t want to mess with them.
“Mickey called me,” said François. “Told me everything. Sounds like you’ve had quite the run-in with pirates.”
“Yes. I have.”
“Will you let us take a look at your sub, Alfred?” said Tom. “And your passport.”
“Sure. I have a dog inside. And that seagull . . . there, is part of my crew, too.” Seaweed had flown a short distance away when the boats came. He was sitting in the water, picking at his feathers. Both men looked at Seaweed and thought I was joking.
“This won’t take long,” said François. “It’s just a formality, so we can say that we did it. And we’ll return your passport.” He looked apologetic. “Won’t take long.”
They followed me down the ladder. They had to bend their heads quite a lot once they were inside. “Well, isn’t this something?” said François. “Here you go, Tom. Isn’t this what you’ve been looking for?”
“It is indeed,” said Tom, looking all around with curiosity. “This wouldn’t do too badly at all. I might raise the ceiling a couple of inches. Can we see the engine, Alfred?”
“Sure. It’s in the stern.”
“You’re a man after Tom’s own heart, Alfred. He’s been dreaming of a machine like this pretty much all of his life. Haven’t you, Tom?”
Tom answered from inside the engine compartment. “I have. Come look at this, François. Look at the diesel he’s got. Clean as my mother’s table.” He stuck his head out. “You should take care of the engines of our boats. How far have you come, Alfred?”
“Uhhh . . . well, I left Newfoundland last August. Then I came through the Northwest Passage . . . down through the Bering Strait, and into the Pacific. Then over to India. Then here.”
François was beaming at Tom. He slapped him on the arm. “There you go, buddy. You’re looking at your dream.”
“Where did you build it?” said Tom.
“We built it in a junkyard in Newfoundland. My friend, who owns the junkyard, designed and built it. I helped him. It took us about two and a half years. A year after we launched it, we put the diesel in it. The first motor was a gas engine from a Volkswagen.”
Tom nodded. He examined the batteries and driveshaft and nodded again. “It’s a work of art. That’s what it is. I’d say your friend knows a thing or two. He should come and build half a dozen of these for the South African navy. What we couldn’t do with a few of these, hey?”
François opened the cold-storage compartment and peered in. I hoped he didn’t lift up the potatoes. “Potatoes, Tom. All you need now is a side of beef, a dozen cases of beer, and you’re set.”
“Yah. And a couple of tuna fish and a grill. That’s the life for me.”
“Well . . .” said François, looking more serious, “I don’t think there’s any question of her being seaworthy. You’ve just come around the world. Mickey mentioned you sank a boat with guns and drugs, but I don’t see any here. Have you got a rifle, hand gun, or weapon of any kind?”
“No. I have a flare gun, but I’m out of flares.”
“Noted. And drugs? Did any of those drugs happen to stay on board this vessel by any chance?”
“No.”
“No, you don’t look like the sort of lad who would waste his life with that. Good for you. Will you follow us in, Alfred? We’d like to hear all you know about the pirates on the east coast. It’s a serious problem for us now, and getting worse all the time. We’ll set you up for the night, and fix up your passport for you. Mickey asked us to refurbish you with a few supplies, and we’d be more than happy to do that. If you let us throw a tow line around your hatch, you can follow us in at ten knots.” He made an apologetic expression and winked. “It looks good if we tow you in. You understand, of course.”
“Yes, I do. Thank you.”
“A pleasure.”
They climbed out, tossed me a line, and I tied it around the portal. Then they churned up the water with two powerful outboard motors on the back of their boat, and the rope snapped taut. I carried Hollie up, and we stood in the portal, and watched the harbour as we were towed in.
Chapter Twenty-eight
FRANÇOIS AND TOM took Hollie and me out to a pub for supper, and we were served the biggest plate of fish and chips I had ever seen, and then a plate of apple pie and ice cream that we couldn’t even finish. Hollie fell asleep on the bench before the meal was over, and my eyes were getting heavy. We weren’t used to eating such large meals anymore. While we ate, I answered their questions about the pirates, and told them about everything, everything except the money and treasure. But the treasure came up anyway.
François and Tom were very committed to their job, and I respected them. They weren’t stuffy and official, or afraid to bend the rules. They had families, played football, liked to fish, and were just regular guys who truly wanted to stop the piracy that was invading their country. So did I.
“The guy who was knifed by the pirates on Mozambique Island, I’m pretty sure we know who he was,” said François. “His name was Jones.”
“Yah,” said Tom. “That’s who he must have been. He was a really bad character.”
“Mickey will be glad to hear he was killed,” said François. “They had run-ins in the past. And Jones stole a treasure that Mickey had found in a wreck. It took him something like twenty-five years to find it.”
“He found a treasure?”
“Yah. A few years ago. It was off one of the French islands . . . Europa, I think. The French took Mickey on board for questioning, and, while he was there, Jones raided his boat, took the treasure, and all his diving equipment, too. But Jones lived too dangerously for anyone’s sake. It’s no surprise to hear he was finally killed. He used to sell guns to the guerillas. Sounds like he was still doing that. That’s pretty much a suicidal business in this part of the world. No doubt he sold drugs, too. You ran into some pretty tough characters, Alfred. You’re lucky you’re still here.”
That reminded me of Katharina’s belief that I had a guardian angel. I wondered if I did. “I know. How do you fight them?”
François took a deep breath. “Yah. That’s the question. After Apartheid, military funding was sharply cut, just like everything else. We don’t have nearly the resources we need. But we do the best we can. We’ve got thirty harbour boats like the one you saw. We arm them when we need to. Then they’re pretty formidable. We’re moving some of our forces into Durban now. Buffing it up. That’s where the biggest threat is. Mostly drugs. Pirates are all the w
ay down the coast now. They get in with the locals, make them dependent upon them, and get them addicted to drugs. Then they control every aspect of their lives. The people live in fear.”
“That’s really terrible.”
“It is. It’s hard to fight, though. Up north, they attack freighters and tankers, take their crews hostage, and demand ransom. You see that on the news.”
“I have.”
“It’s a battle we’re waging. And we’ll win. It’ll just take time. But what about you, Alfred? I don’t imagine you came here to fight pirates.”
“No. I sure didn’t. I’m just exploring. I’ve been exploring for more than two years now. But I want to become an environmentalist, and help protect the sea. I’ve seen some of the damage that’s been done, and I want to help clean it up.”
“Now there’s a noble cause if I ever heard one,” said François. “You’ve got my vote. Seems to me you’re off to a good start.”
“You should go to Australia,” said Tom.
“Australia?”
“Yah. That’s where the action is for environmentalism and the sea. That’s where the Great Barrier Reef is. It’s the largest reef system in the world. I visited there just two years ago. It’s an awesome place. And it’s full of environmentalists. If you want to get into the thick of active environmentalism, that’s where you need to go. Tasmania, too. You won’t find a more beautiful place, where people have been fighting for years to save the environment. And winning! Court cases in the papers, demonstrations, organizations going after whalers, that sort of thing. That’s where I’d go if I were you.”
He sounded like he wanted to go right now.
