Dead in the Water

“What happened?” JC asked.

Javier whispered desperately, “Pirates. Pirates came aboard in the night. They are in control of the ship.” He stopped and looked again to see if anyone was in sight. “That small group from Jolo must have helped them. The engines stopped and they boarded from the rear. They have gunmen patrolling each deck. The Captain is locked in his cabin.”

“What are you doing out and loose?” asked JC.

Javier seemed near tears, “Some of us stewards were rounded up and told to take the passengers some food — and not to talk to them.” He withdrew quickly and started down the passage. JC peeked out cautiously and saw a figure carrying an assault rifle at the far end of the corridor. He quickly closed and locked the door.

Nothing seemed to happen. They heard no particular noises. From observation of the sea through the door of their cabin they could not detect the ship moving in any different direction. It was nerve wracking — the waiting — no news — nothing. The hours passed. Finally JC decided it was time to take a quick look from their balcony.

“Please be careful,” said Susan in a low voice. Even these soft words seemed to grate on the silence. The suspense they had held themselves in was agonizing.

JC replied with a nod. Neither of them felt it necessary to arouse any attention at this point by speaking aloud. Who could know who might be outside or at the door? Silently JC slid the door open and carefully stepped out onto the balcony. A quick look around revealed nothing. He heard no noise from the adjacent cabins. Forward there was just one cabin between theirs and the Captain’s quarters. He wished they might have been adjacent. He might have been able to make some sort of contact with Gavinov. A quick look over the side revealed nothing either fore or aft. Nothing seemed to be moving other than the ship silently sliding through the water. He was mildly curious as to who was running the ship. It seemed unlikely it was any of the mutinous group of seamen from Jolo. They simply didn’t seem competent to that job. He hoped that everyone was safe. From the amount of gunfire they had heard it seemed inevitable that some might have been hurt or killed.

JC came back inside and said to Susan, “I think we need to try and contact the Captain. I’m pretty sure he is confined to his cabin by the pirates. I hope he’s all right.” He scratched his chin and then asked, “Do you know who is in the cabin just forward of ours — the one between us and the Captain’s?”

Susan replied quickly, “No one. Don’t you remember? It’s just like this one and it’s empty. I understood from talking to Izolda that they wanted a little isolation — nobody right next to them. I don’t blame them.”

A faint smile touched JC’s face. “That might be good news. We might be able to contact the Captain if there is no one next door.” Then he grew a little more excited. “Susan, do you remember looking at those dividers between the balconies? They have doors in them — locked — but the walls they are in, they don’t go clear down to the deck. They can’t. They have to have a little clearance so they can hose down the outer areas of the ship. Those walls stand off from the deck about two inches.”

JC then began searching their cabin for something to use to get a message across that vacant balcony to the Captain. It had to be something that would cause no noise or disturbance. He was fairly certain that sentries would be peering over the side up and down the decks from time to time. One couldn’t afford to make an error that would close off any future possibility of contact. Susan finally tumbled to what he was looking for and smiled coyly pointing up at the sliding door — the curtain rods, of course. They carefully disassembled the curtain apparatus and wound up with a very flimsy length of rod that JC was certain he could snake along the deck under the dividing wall to the other side of the empty cabin’s balcony. He attached a very short note to the end and quietly and with infinite patience pushed the rod silently next to the outer hull surface. He estimated the far end of the rod would be protruding onto the Captain’s balcony by just a few inches. The best strategy was to wait until either the Captain or someone else in his quarters would notice this peculiar but unobtrusive object on the deck outside their suite.

Hours passed. Susan was all for pulling it back in and giving it another try — maybe making a little noise to attract attention. JC vetoed this notion emphatically. “We have to be patient. Just wait. We’ve got time.”

The wait paid off. JC heard the rod rattle slightly on the deck outside their cabin. He quickly knelt on the deck and gently pulled the rod back into their own area removing the extra pieces as it came. On the end was taped a piece of paper:

Confined to quarters: Izolda, Joseph, and me. Radio disabled, Pirates in control on bridge. Do you have cell phone? Ship’s cell relay may still function. All devices taken from us. OG

JC was nearly ecstatic. “We may be of some real help. We do have a cell phone. These pirates are idiots they should have cleaned us all out. I haven’t even seen one of them.” He grinned at Susan. “Have you?”

Susan was not so exuberant, “No, and I don’t want to.” She tried to bring him down to earth. “There’s a good reason we haven’t seen any pirates.” JC raised an eyebrow. “There are too many of us. They want money. There are way too many of us and they are smart enough to know that they had better not hurt anybody if they hope to get their ransom.” She paused. “They are desperate, though, and exceedingly dangerous.” Then she asked. “How are you going to get a cell phone to the Captain.”

JC said, “Same way I got the note there, by curtain rod express.”

Susan said wryly, “Glad you can see the humor of it all.” Then pensively, “I wonder where we’re going, certainly not to Fiji I bet.”

JC was quiet for quite a while. Finally he broke the silence, “If these pirates are radical Muslim fundamentalists they could be from almost anywhere. We know about the Jolo group but there is no guarantee that the group that took over this ship is from the Philippines or that they intend to take us there. It’s a very long way to the Philippines. Following the papers I get the idea that the radicals could be from just about anywhere and could be based just about anywhere that is remote enough. We ought to look at a map and see what is possible and reasonable.” With that he began rummaging through the drawers of the desk. He finally came up with a thick travel magazine that featured ads for cruises and vacations all over the Western Pacific and Indian Ocean. There was a map showing most of this part of the world — not much detail — but enough to work out some possibilities.

JC began studying the map. Finally he looked up and disconsolately said, “Well, I can’t make much out of where we might be going. Fiji is close but I don’t think this bunch would have much luck anchoring off one of those islands. The only place that looks to be in range and might be remote enough is New Caledonia. I think it is, or was, French.” JC scratched his chin – he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. “I don’t think they are too smart. I sure hope the cell phone brings some help.” He gave Susan a desolate look. “Maybe its New Caledonia. I don’t know what difference it makes.”

A knock came at the door. “It’s Joseph. Please open up. I have a message.”