Authors: Jinx Schwartz
Endeavor
: 0212 hrs.
The bridge speakers boomed to life as the radio’s scanner zeroed in, opting to override
HiJenks
’s weaker signal. “This is Papa Zero-Four, Mexican Navy Patrol Boat
Matamoros
. Vessel heading three-five-zero at twenty-nine knots, please identify.”
“Oh, boy,” Arrington muttered under his breath, pointing to the blip on the radar the radio directional finder indicated. “What do you want to do, Cap’n?”
“Answer them. And hope
All Bidness
doesn’t have a scanner on.”
Arrington strode to the communication station and grabbed the mike. “Mexican Navy Patrol
Matamoros
, this is United States Coast Guard Cutter
Endeavor
. We are responding to a mayday from an American vessel in the Sea of Cortez. Over.”
Ortega and his officers exchanged surprised looks, then the lieutenant said, “Please to stand by,
Endeavor
.” Turning to Ortega, he offered the mic. “Do you wish to talk to them, sir?”
“No, my English is not that good. Ask them if they have someone on board who speaks Spanish.”
“
Endeavor
, this is Matamoros. Habla, uh, Spanish?”
“Stand by,
Matamoros
.”
Ortega stared at his radar screen while they waited. He was just pointing to a fourth blip on the screen when the radio crackled to life again.
“
Matamoros
, this is Captain Bill Xavier of the United States Coast Guard. I am the ranking officer on board, and I speak Spanish.”
More surprised looks on the bridge of
Matamoros
.
Ortega took the mic, happy to be speaking in his native language. “Good Morning, Captain Xavier. I am Captain Ortega. What do you make of this situation?”
“Capitán Ortega, I am not at liberty to talk freely on this channel,” Xavier answered in fluent Spanish, “but the way we see it, one American vessel is being pursued by another American vessel, and we suspect foul play. Over.”
“What are your intentions, Captain Xavier?”
“According to International Maritime Law, we are proceeding to assist an American registered vessel in distress and will do what is necessary to insure the safety of that vessel,” Xavier told him, hoping he didn’t come off sounding like a pompous
Gringo
. Then he added diplomatically, “We have information that your government may not have had a chance to relay to you.”
Ortega hesitated. What is this Xavier talking about? And by “what is necessary,” did the American mean he was prepared to use force? Open fire? And if so, what should I do about it? As far as I know, this coast guard ship is not even supposed to be here. He shrugged. “Welcome to the Sea of Cortez, Captain Xavier. You are aware, are you not, that these are Mexican waters?” he asked, carefully choosing his words.
“I think we can, under the circumstances, leave that to the maritime lawyers,
Capitán
Ortega. Meanwhile, we will, of course, take our direction from your vessel as you are the host country.” Arrington grinned at Xavier’s crafty reply.
As Xavier had anticipated, this was not what Ortega wanted to hear. If he told them to leave, there could be repercussions. If he told them to continue, there could be repercussions.
Ortega made his decision. “I am sure you will use the utmost caution to make certain no Mexican vessel is involved in this situation, Captain Xavier. Please keep this channel open for further communications. Godspeed.
Matamoros
clear.”
He handed the microphone to his radio operator and turned to his next in command. “Sound an ‘all hands on deck’ and issue weapons. I am going to try to reach Guaymas Control for helicopter surveillance. It’s starting to look like another
norteamericano
invasion out here.”
Bananas
: 0230hrs
.
“Holy Mother of God,” Nicole yelled over the roar of the Donzi’s engines, “how fast are we going?”
Jaime checked the gauges. “Forty, but we have to slow down. The seas are building and we don’t have all that much fuel. This boat is a…how you say it? Gas pig?”
“Gas hog.”
“Zactly. I cannot figure out how the men who stole this boat managed to get so far,” Jaime yelled back. “Go below and check the radar.”
“No problemo, Captain Ahab,” Nicole retorted, but she did as told. Coming back into the cockpit she pointed below. “Maybe you’d better look for yourself. Unless your great white friend, Moby Dick, has brought all his friends to the central Sea of Cortez, there’s a traffic jam out there.”
“Take the wheel, Nikki.” Then he added, “Please.”
“That’s more like it,” Nicole grinned. She had never driven a fast boat like
Bananas
, but even in the freshening gale, she handled like a Rolls Royce gliding down the Santa Monica Freeway. Well, maybe the Santa Monica Freeway with potholes. Unfortunately, it was beginning to look like rush hour ahead.
HiJenks
: 0230hrs
.
“Hetta, we just recorded a forty knot gust. I think I’d better go out on deck, secure a few things and check
Jenkzy
’s lines.” Noting the stricken look on Hetta’s face, he added, “I’ll only be a minute, and I promise to hold on tight.”
Hetta nodded a reluctant nod, and scooted back into the captain’s chair so he could pass in front of her and out the door. She continued to transmit, but anxiously peered out the open door. She couldn’t see Jenks, but her heart missed a beat when she spotted
All Bidness
’s lights behind them. It was one thing to see a blip on the screen, but quite another to actually see the boat. She put down the mic, yelled for Jenks and stepped out, almost colliding with him as he returned from the other direction.
“Jesus, you about scared the crap out of me.”
“Hetta, you’re not transmitting? Oh, hell, what does it matter? If no one heard us by now it won’t make much difference. Let’s go back in. We need to talk.”
Hetta moved to the settee in the main saloon and plopped down. “I don’t want to talk. Not if it’s about jumping.”
“Het-ta, we have to. I know you saw them back there.”
Hetta nodded, but like a stubborn three-year-old.
Jenks took her hand. “Look, I know how scared you are of the water, so I think I have a better idea than jumping overboard.” Hetta’s frown brightened into a smile, so Jenks continued. “Why don’t you get together an ‘abandon-ship’ bag. We need water, life jackets, handheld, flashlight...you know the drill. While you’re doing that, I’m going to pull
Jenkzy
close and throw in a tarp, oil and gas, okay?”
“Okay, but please, please be careful.”
Endeavor
: 0230 hrs
.
“
All Bidness
is closing on them,” Arrington growled, as if everyone on the bridge wasn’t painfully aware of that fact. “If there’s an upside, I guess it’s both boats are American registry and if
All Bidness
doesn’t respond when we warn her off, we’ll be within our rights to open fire.”
“Technically.”
“What do you mean, ‘technically’?”
“Shades of gray. Mexico claims the entire Sea of Cortez because the Republic of Mexico surrounds it on three sides. Far as I know, it’s never been put to the test except when some Japanese purse seiners tried to fish here one year. The Mexicans seized their ships, then ran ‘em out.”
“I guess we’ll have to worry about legalities later,” Arrington muttered. “I don’t like that sudden silence from
HiJenks
.”
“Yeah, we’ll try to get through in a minute. At this point I guess it won’t make much difference. I see that unidentified vessel, Skunk Alpha, is still holding position. That means, with this wind, he’s holding with his engines, because it’s too deep to anchor. I smell a skunk—black stinky variety—but we don’t have time to set a trap.”
“We can call
Matamoros
, let them know what we suspect...that there’s a mother ship out there waiting for a drop.”
“Maybe we will. Or maybe I’ve just been in this business too long. But why else would a boat hold position like that, especially in this weather? He’s burning fuel when, if they just wanted to sleep, they’d normally drift. Or at least run downwind to smooth the ride. Like I said, I smell skunk.
A new blip on the radar screen caught Arrington’s attention. “Whoa, would you take a gander at this? Must be doing thirty.” He pushed a button. “Thirty-two. Souped-up sportfisher, or maybe an offshore racer. Out on a night like tonight for a little cruise? Dope runner for sure.”
“Got any Tums, Rich?”
HiJenks
: 0235 hrs.
Jenks picked up the VHF radio mic for the last time. “This is
HiJenks
. We don’t know if anyone can hear us, because we can’t receive. We are going to tape down the mic button so if there is anyone out there, they can hear what happens.
All Bidness
is closing on us. We will no longer be able to transmit our mayday, because Hetta and I are leaving the cabin.”
He gave their present coordinates, then said, “We are preparing for the worst, and plan to defend ourselves. This will be our last transmission until this situation is over.”
The muffled sounds of movement in the cabin, and then only the hum of diesels, wind, and waves were heard over the airwaves.
Three minutes later everyone heard faint popping sounds.
Bananas
: 0238 hrs.
“
Jesús y Maria
,” Jaime muttered, crossing himself when he heard gunfire transmitted over
HiJenks
’s radio.
Nicole put her hand on his arm and stared ahead.
Endeavor
: 0238 hrs
.
“Sir,
HiJenks
is under fire!” Arrington yelled.
“Damn,” Xavier said.
Matamoros
: 0238 hrs
.
“What is that noise on the radio,
Capitán
?”
“Gunfire. Give me the mic.” Ortega pressed the transmit button and said, “
Endeavor
, this is
Matamoros
. You may, Captain Xavier, proceed at will. And
buena suerte
.”
“Acknowledged,
Matamoros
. And good luck to you, too.”
HiJenks
: 0238 hrs
.
Hetta and Jenks, on all fours, braced themselves on the wet, heaving foredeck and peeked around the cabin as
All Bidness
, guns blazing, bore down on them. A wave slammed against the boat and sent a cascade of foam into Hetta’s face. “Please tell me this is not happening again,” she sputtered, sounding more mad than scared. “Now what? Back into the engine room?”
“Not this time. We’d be trapped. Flatten out here on the bow while I implement plan A.”
“Jenks! They’re firing at us! You have to stay down too.”
“We’re still out of range. They aren’t doing anything but wasting ammo right now. With any luck, they’ll run out by the time they get close enough to hit anything. But just in case, we’re gonna give ‘em something to think about.”
Endeavor
: 0240 hrs.
“Automatic weapon’s fire,” Arrington growled, handing his binoculars to Xavier.
Xavier took one look and nodded. “Alert the gunner to range on
All Bidness
. We may have to blow her out of the water.”
“Sir, are you sure? I mean, we only suspect provocation.”
“Tell it to the ACLU. I’m getting real provoked, Rich. What the hell, I wanted to go sailing anyhow.”
All Bidness
: 0245hrs
.
Sam Houston whined and licked Bud’s face, then barked. Bud moaned, but didn’t move. The terrier nudged him again. Nothing. So he bit Bud’s nose.
“What in? Sam? You bit me?” Bud bellowed, sitting up and grabbing his nose. Sam moved deftly out of range while Bud swayed and fell back onto the pillow, his head spinning.
Sam Houston barked frantically, until Bud said, “Okay, okay, Sam. Don’t bite me again. I’m getting up.” Pushing himself to seated, Bud swung his legs off the bed and tried to stand, but his head roared with residual drugs and alcohol. He had to hold on to a bedpost for balance.
“Before you bit me you didn’t crap in my mouth did you?” Bud groused. He propelled himself towards the head, crashing into the doorsill as he went. Braced against the sink he threw cold water into his face and drank some to settle his roiling stomach. Then he realized his stomach wasn’t the only thing heaving;
All Bidness
swayed and bucked like a bronc he once rode at the Houston Live Stock Show.