Pirate at Bay II
Locked in the Hold, the Captain was Sinking with his Boat
The pirate boat was speeding toward the charter boat at an unbelievable speed. Captain Harold could only watch through the porthole of the hold and brace for the collision that was about to happen.
Slam! Crunch!
The sharp metal bow of the pirate boat sliced into the wooden fishing vessel, cutting a big and deep pocket into the starboard side. It was a blunt but explosive sound.
The collision tipped the charter boat to port side and sent all the loose contents sailing through the air into Lake Erie - the camera and tripod, the coolers, the mirror, and the two porn stars themselves. The only loose items left on the deck were a two-piece bikini and men's swim shorts.
Locked in the hold, the captain cried out in fear and desperation, kicking at the door, but it would not open. The heavy metal latch was doing its job. Now water was flooding in, gradually but steadily. In minutes the hold would be full of lake water, and the captain would have no more air to breathe.
Like a sea lamprey, the pirate boat had wedged itself into the charter boat, and now three men wearing black ninja suits jumped from one boat to the other.
The charter boat was sinking, slowly. The men had to work fast.
"Check up by the steering wheel," one of the pirates told another.
"Go down to the galley," he said to the other. "Look for anything."
The captain peered out the porthole in the door to the hold. Three men wearing black suits, their faces covered by black cloth, were searching his fishing boat. For what? he wondered.
In the water, the two porn stars were silent, hoping they would not be noticed or bothered. Both could swim, and both were comfortable treading water. They kept their eyes on the three figures in black combing the charter boat as it gradually took on water and was sinking on its port side. The fishing poles, once almost vertical, now were 60 degrees down, showing the descent of the boat.
Water was filling the hold. The captain was underwater up to his shoulders. Still he looked out the porthole, not knowing what to do. To bang on the door would draw the attention of the three pirates, or helplessly sit tight while the water level worked its way to his nostrils.
"I got something up here!" came a cry from one of the pirates.
The lead pirate looked up at the bridge, now tilting port side.
"What'd you got?"
"A cash box. Couple of thousand in here."
The lead pirate's face was covered with black ninja cloth, but underneath a sly smile formed.
When the pirate carried the cash box past the porthole window the captain started pounding and pounding on the top part of the door still uncovered by lake water.
He had not been to the bank all week. He knew what the pirates had.
No longer could he push his shoulder against the door. The water covered it. Nor could he put much pressure on it with his feet. Banging on the porthole window was his last resort.
One of the ninja pirates stopped to look.
"Hey, you guys! There is somebody in the hold."
The three pirates gathered to look in the porthole. The captain peered out, pointing to his braided captain's cap.
"It's the captain," the leader said. "Last thing we need is him loose."
With that the three ninja pirates boarded their boat, put it in reverse, and with some difficulty pulled apart from the sinking charter boat. The pirate boat set a course straight for shore.
The porn stars were relieved.
"Let's swim in and get our suits," Ken said.
"Then what, Mr. Brains?" Stacy said.
"One thing at a time," was his answer.
With that, they grabbed hold of the port rail and pulled themselves into the sinking boat.
They were forced to crawl because of the tilt of the deck to port side. The charter boat was taking on water and sinking.
"Get dressed," Ken told Stacy.
They struggled to put on their swimsuits.
"Now what?" Stacy asked.
Crumpled in a corner, Ken looked out over the water from the sinking port side.
He studied the lake water, looking for hope. The boat had now tilted so much that he could reach out and touch the surface of the lake.
The hold was virtually under water, and the captain had resigned his fate. He kept his face to the top of the hold to capture all the oxygen he could. He feared there would be only minutes.
"What about the captain?" Stacy asked.
"He's going to have to go down with the ship," Ken answered.
Stacy shrugged. She turned and glanced at the door to the hold. The big latch was now underwater. She turned back to Ken.
He was pointing toward the lake. There. In the distance was a boat. It seemed to be coming their way.
It was a twin-engine speed boat. It was fast. And it was upon the sinking charter boat in a minute.
"Hey there!" the driver of the speed boat called out.
"We need to be rescued," Ken the porn star called back.
The driver pulled the speed boat along the port side. Ken and Stacy easily were pulled aboard.
Without further talk, the speed boat driver pulled away from the sinking charter boat.
Stacy looked back. The charter boat deck was now vertical to the lake, the bridge was underwater, the propellers were hanging in the air.
Ken didn't look back. He simply said: "You came along at the right time. We lost the boat."
The speed boat driver could not hear well above the roar of the two outboard motors and motioned that he would listen to their stories when he got them safely to shore.
The hold of the charter boat was full of water. The captain was holding his breath. In his mind he said goodbye to his wife of 38 years, to his two grown children, and to his three grandchildren. He even said farewell to the family dog, a black cocker spaniel mix named Reagan.
What he couldn't see is that coming from the starboard side was a 14-foot aluminum boat, with a tiny 6 horsepower outboard motor, and two young males in it. Both were wearing underwater masks with snorkel tubes.
"I can't even see shore," one of the teenagers said, looking backwards.
"If my dad finds out I have the boat out this far he'll really be mad," the other answered.
They had been snorkeling off a nearby island. They thought they saw a boat gradually disappearing, and came to look.
"Throw the anchor," the teenager holding the throttle arm of the outboard said to the other.
The other teenager threw the anchor overboard. The first teen cut off the outboard motor.
Each spit saliva inside their mask to prepare to jump in and explore the sinking boat.
One went over one side of the 14-foot boat, one over the other, so as not to tip the light craft.
They were underwater, quickly exploring the deck of the sinking charter boat, the fishing poles, and door the galley, and bridge, when one noticed a porthole window in the hold door. Out of curiosity he pulled the big door latch and a lot of air bubbles escaped the opening door.
The teen looked to get the attention of his friend, then swam into the hold, only to discover a man wearing a captain's hat, floating lifelessly.
He pulled the man by the belt out of the hold and started peddling his feet to take him to the surface.
His friend went up with him.
Their masks came off.
"Pull his head back so he can breathe," one teen said.
They struggled together but couldn't seem to get the captain positioned that way.
"Stick this snorkel in his mouth," one teen said, giving up his breathing tube.
They wedged the snorkel into the captain's mouth and made sure the top of the snorkel was above the water line.
'Is he alive?"
"I don't know. But we got to get him into the boat."
A 14-foot aluminum row-boat is hard to mount from the water. You have to pull yourself up the edge and over into the boat.
"He's heavy!"
"What are we going to do?"
Since they could not get the captain into the 14-foot boat they devised a plan to use their life preservers to float him alongside the boat, one teen holding him from the front, the other running the outboard motor.
Gradually, they headed toward shore.
They could not go fast or the water would flood over the captain's face. The snorkel was out. They saw that he was breathing, but unconscious.
The only thing visible from shore was the plume of the utility's cooling towers. Lake Erie was still calm.
The teen running the outboard motor motioned that they were turning toward the small island they had been snorkeling around. It was not far from them. But it was far from shore.
It would have to do.
When they got to the island they ran the boat aground and both pulled the lifeless captain onto the sand.
The sand was covered with the tiny shells of Zebra mussels, and their sharp points tore at the captain's skin. He was unconscious, and now he was bleeding.
When the teens pulled him onto a grassy area, they noticed the bleeding.
One looked at the other. "The last thing we've got is a first aid kit."
"Yea," the other said, "And if we don't get the boat back my dad is going to be mad."
They both looked toward shore, toward their homes.
All that was visible was a puffy white plume coming from a nuclear power plant.
To be continued.
Slam! Crunch!
The sharp metal bow of the pirate boat sliced into the wooden fishing vessel, cutting a big and deep pocket into the starboard side. It was a blunt but explosive sound.
The collision tipped the charter boat to port side and sent all the loose contents sailing through the air into Lake Erie - the camera and tripod, the coolers, the mirror, and the two porn stars themselves. The only loose items left on the deck were a two-piece bikini and men's swim shorts.
Locked in the hold, the captain cried out in fear and desperation, kicking at the door, but it would not open. The heavy metal latch was doing its job. Now water was flooding in, gradually but steadily. In minutes the hold would be full of lake water, and the captain would have no more air to breathe.
Like a sea lamprey, the pirate boat had wedged itself into the charter boat, and now three men wearing black ninja suits jumped from one boat to the other.
The charter boat was sinking, slowly. The men had to work fast.
"Check up by the steering wheel," one of the pirates told another.
"Go down to the galley," he said to the other. "Look for anything."
The captain peered out the porthole in the door to the hold. Three men wearing black suits, their faces covered by black cloth, were searching his fishing boat. For what? he wondered.
In the water, the two porn stars were silent, hoping they would not be noticed or bothered. Both could swim, and both were comfortable treading water. They kept their eyes on the three figures in black combing the charter boat as it gradually took on water and was sinking on its port side. The fishing poles, once almost vertical, now were 60 degrees down, showing the descent of the boat.
Water was filling the hold. The captain was underwater up to his shoulders. Still he looked out the porthole, not knowing what to do. To bang on the door would draw the attention of the three pirates, or helplessly sit tight while the water level worked its way to his nostrils.
"I got something up here!" came a cry from one of the pirates.
The lead pirate looked up at the bridge, now tilting port side.
"What'd you got?"
"A cash box. Couple of thousand in here."
The lead pirate's face was covered with black ninja cloth, but underneath a sly smile formed.
When the pirate carried the cash box past the porthole window the captain started pounding and pounding on the top part of the door still uncovered by lake water.
He had not been to the bank all week. He knew what the pirates had.
No longer could he push his shoulder against the door. The water covered it. Nor could he put much pressure on it with his feet. Banging on the porthole window was his last resort.
One of the ninja pirates stopped to look.
"Hey, you guys! There is somebody in the hold."
The three pirates gathered to look in the porthole. The captain peered out, pointing to his braided captain's cap.
"It's the captain," the leader said. "Last thing we need is him loose."
With that the three ninja pirates boarded their boat, put it in reverse, and with some difficulty pulled apart from the sinking charter boat. The pirate boat set a course straight for shore.
The porn stars were relieved.
"Let's swim in and get our suits," Ken said.
"Then what, Mr. Brains?" Stacy said.
"One thing at a time," was his answer.
With that, they grabbed hold of the port rail and pulled themselves into the sinking boat.
They were forced to crawl because of the tilt of the deck to port side. The charter boat was taking on water and sinking.
"Get dressed," Ken told Stacy.
They struggled to put on their swimsuits.
"Now what?" Stacy asked.
Crumpled in a corner, Ken looked out over the water from the sinking port side.
He studied the lake water, looking for hope. The boat had now tilted so much that he could reach out and touch the surface of the lake.
The hold was virtually under water, and the captain had resigned his fate. He kept his face to the top of the hold to capture all the oxygen he could. He feared there would be only minutes.
"What about the captain?" Stacy asked.
"He's going to have to go down with the ship," Ken answered.
Stacy shrugged. She turned and glanced at the door to the hold. The big latch was now underwater. She turned back to Ken.
He was pointing toward the lake. There. In the distance was a boat. It seemed to be coming their way.
It was a twin-engine speed boat. It was fast. And it was upon the sinking charter boat in a minute.
"Hey there!" the driver of the speed boat called out.
"We need to be rescued," Ken the porn star called back.
The driver pulled the speed boat along the port side. Ken and Stacy easily were pulled aboard.
Without further talk, the speed boat driver pulled away from the sinking charter boat.
Stacy looked back. The charter boat deck was now vertical to the lake, the bridge was underwater, the propellers were hanging in the air.
Ken didn't look back. He simply said: "You came along at the right time. We lost the boat."
The speed boat driver could not hear well above the roar of the two outboard motors and motioned that he would listen to their stories when he got them safely to shore.
The hold of the charter boat was full of water. The captain was holding his breath. In his mind he said goodbye to his wife of 38 years, to his two grown children, and to his three grandchildren. He even said farewell to the family dog, a black cocker spaniel mix named Reagan.
What he couldn't see is that coming from the starboard side was a 14-foot aluminum boat, with a tiny 6 horsepower outboard motor, and two young males in it. Both were wearing underwater masks with snorkel tubes.
"I can't even see shore," one of the teenagers said, looking backwards.
"If my dad finds out I have the boat out this far he'll really be mad," the other answered.
They had been snorkeling off a nearby island. They thought they saw a boat gradually disappearing, and came to look.
"Throw the anchor," the teenager holding the throttle arm of the outboard said to the other.
The other teenager threw the anchor overboard. The first teen cut off the outboard motor.
Each spit saliva inside their mask to prepare to jump in and explore the sinking boat.
One went over one side of the 14-foot boat, one over the other, so as not to tip the light craft.
They were underwater, quickly exploring the deck of the sinking charter boat, the fishing poles, and door the galley, and bridge, when one noticed a porthole window in the hold door. Out of curiosity he pulled the big door latch and a lot of air bubbles escaped the opening door.
The teen looked to get the attention of his friend, then swam into the hold, only to discover a man wearing a captain's hat, floating lifelessly.
He pulled the man by the belt out of the hold and started peddling his feet to take him to the surface.
His friend went up with him.
Their masks came off.
"Pull his head back so he can breathe," one teen said.
They struggled together but couldn't seem to get the captain positioned that way.
"Stick this snorkel in his mouth," one teen said, giving up his breathing tube.
They wedged the snorkel into the captain's mouth and made sure the top of the snorkel was above the water line.
'Is he alive?"
"I don't know. But we got to get him into the boat."
A 14-foot aluminum row-boat is hard to mount from the water. You have to pull yourself up the edge and over into the boat.
"He's heavy!"
"What are we going to do?"
Since they could not get the captain into the 14-foot boat they devised a plan to use their life preservers to float him alongside the boat, one teen holding him from the front, the other running the outboard motor.
Gradually, they headed toward shore.
They could not go fast or the water would flood over the captain's face. The snorkel was out. They saw that he was breathing, but unconscious.
The only thing visible from shore was the plume of the utility's cooling towers. Lake Erie was still calm.
The teen running the outboard motor motioned that they were turning toward the small island they had been snorkeling around. It was not far from them. But it was far from shore.
It would have to do.
When they got to the island they ran the boat aground and both pulled the lifeless captain onto the sand.
The sand was covered with the tiny shells of Zebra mussels, and their sharp points tore at the captain's skin. He was unconscious, and now he was bleeding.
When the teens pulled him onto a grassy area, they noticed the bleeding.
One looked at the other. "The last thing we've got is a first aid kit."
"Yea," the other said, "And if we don't get the boat back my dad is going to be mad."
They both looked toward shore, toward their homes.
All that was visible was a puffy white plume coming from a nuclear power plant.
To be continued.
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