- A Pirate's Tale:
The Custody Caper: Privateers
on the Prowl
- I crouched next to a 48-foot sportfisherman on a dark canal.
Tonight, My mission: Piracy! Swoop down. Grapple the treasure.
Escape to the high seas. A Privateer strike, no warning.
Halloween, the perfect night. 4 a.m. The night closed in, ebony, total
darkness. Dressed all in costume like Black Bart; with a cardboard
cutlass. But my fingers clutched a three foot-long set of bolt-cutters,
twin jumper cables. Pirates’ tools. Yacht-grabbers’ weapons.
Deadly quiet. The sweet scent of honeysuckle hung heavy in
moist, ocean air. Suddenly, twin headlights swept the shadowed alley.
My heart thumped. A prowl car, two hundred feet away, bright beams
searching. I froze, head down, brain churning. Horror images. Prison.
Prison food. Five-to-ten, no parole. Yeah, they hanged Captain Kidd.
Hung his body up till it rotted.
- Blackbeard – they shot him, sabered him, beheaded him. But
peek at my watch, not moving, praying they’d miss me. My mind
raced, wild. But where the hell was Bradbury Kornbloom? What the
buccaneer was I doing in this plot?
- Avast-- I was about to play Pirates of Pens-Ants with this boat.
for treasures I'll never have—a wild spree with a Brittany starlet, a
Ferrarri roadster, an unlimited platinum American Express card, a
winning lottery ticket-- but my follow-through was like tweaking an
extra bite-size Almond Joy from the Dentist; and being saddled with
guilt for a week. So hijacking a half-mil$ yacht-goodie? Starkly
beyond my wildest fantasy. A nightmare.
- But my buddy Bradbury C. Kornbloom demanded the absolute.
larceny. No guts, no gravy. I craved a flagon of grog.
His world crashed down with his divorce, a bizarre tale. Korny's never-
loving spouse petitioned for "Possession of Domicile,” which
happened to be the booty beauty, a 48-foot, twin screw Egg Harbor,
not new but almost paid for, swaddled with radar, sat-nav, depth
sounders, single side-band, GPS, RDF, 007, you name it. The yacht
was his sole asset; the only monetary value he brought into the
marriage, but ...
- The Court nodded sympathetically to the poor chick. Well
plus $200 a week alimony to tide her over, while the judiciary ground
through legalities. Frantic ol' NYawk. They didn’t know the secrets, the
truth of who she, or he was Surprise! I’ll get to that.
Like Anne Bonny, except she got preggers, she said, but went to jail
anyway; while Annie two-timed her lover Calico Jack Rackham, with
female pirate Mary Read. That hook-up was frowned upon even
centuries ago. Annie conned the judges' sympathy, and eventually
dropped out of the history books. Some say she found her father and
began a new, pristine life. Fancy that, in bawdy, Merry Old England.
- But this wasn't Annie, and she wasn't preggers.
in the dark. About to pillage.
Korney had called me, sobbing. "Yo, my ol’ buccaneer buddy you
gotta help me steal it back."
- "I am not a crook,” I answered, quoting somebody I remember
- "But," he retorted, "we're plundering my own boat!" Yeah...
- Boatnapping May be a Sin, God, but please don’t look!
The boat was stashed in the Miami-Ft. Lauderdale area. “Hey just
check the canals until you find her. You remember; Egg Harbor, fly-
bridge, white, tuna-tower, blue cove stripe. You know, a standout.”
How many zillion canals in Miami, Lauderdale? How many fly-bridges?
- But, a plan began festering in my mind. What if we... ...
More Adventure Snippets, See below
The Grass Menagerie:
Bombed in the Bahamas
Chicken Little, the Sky is Raining Money
Two hours before dawn. Suddenly the night was
screamed overhead. What? 50 feet off the top of my mast!.
I jumped a yard straight up off my bunk. What the hell? Did
this guy think our anchor light was the Riding Rock beacon?
I staggered up on deck, mad as hell, in time to watch the
kamikaze bank around for another pass-- but he wasn’t in
trouble, wasn’t flying blind.
- The night sky was clear; with the gibbous moon they
couple of anchor line lengths away, a dozen sleek go-fast
boats were lined up, two by two, in a makeshift runway-
guide system, with three red lights, three green, and a
series of whites.
- But big Jake overhead was not landing out here. Not
skullduggery? The deck-duster thundered overhead again,
then a loud "whop" as something smacked the water.
- Godforbid, I realized, We are in the middle of a pot
a community, at Riding Rock, southernmost of the Bimini
chain of islands. About a million miles from Miami, the U.S.
Coast Guard, or any pattern of organized law. Just me, Girl
Friend, and Daughter (mine).
- This was a supposed peaceful summer idyll on my
hauling in a net full of lobsters for lunch and dinner, and
winning the world championship of Scrabble, among the
three of us.
- By now, Girl Friend and Daughter crawled sleepily
were seeing a real-life today game of Piratica called
Smuggling, otherwise known as Save the Bales.
- Silently, we watched the ghostly bird of prey preen
- The dropper craft I recognized; a venerable gooney-
flapping, engines groaning, but able to carry more bales
than a fleet of International Harvesters.
- After each "whop" a needle-nosed Cigarette sidled
over to snatch its bale from the black sea. Bizarre, a Grade-
B movie starring John Agar.
- We were an unwitting audience to this dance of the
the DC-3 zoom through its last run, then rumble off to the
southeast towards Jamaica, where it was rumored the
grass grows greener, on its maritime way to Miami.
- One by one, the free-booters sidled to their salty
the Castle Rock pass beacon. Then, just as the anchorage
was almost clear, Girl Friend grabbed me with enough force
to dislocate a shoulder, squealing like a three year old at a
birthday bash, "They missed one!"
- Sure enough, a black, squarish hulk floating less
god square grouper.
- “We've got to pick it up!" Girl Friend yelled. MORE...
Treasure of Padre Island &
Sebastion Inlet; Treasure Islands
The Hurricane's Kiss
Jean LaFitte was a pirate of the highest order. As we
our metal detectors pulsed loudly in unison, like cell
phones gone crazy. Five yards apart, we knew -- hoped -- it
meant something here was more important to us than the
lightning and thunder boiling up the coast. We'd stay as
long as we dared; searching for lost cargo of sunken
treasure galleons.
- The thirst for sunken treasure, gold, pieces-of-eight,
many people get struck by lightning on the beach?
We both dropped down on our knees and began digging at
the sand with fingers and entrenching tools. The ping spot
Sail Away
to Paradise:
Part 1
Escape the Grind,
a Kingdom of Your Own
“Argh! Argh, Argh,” Richard croaked
in his Black Beard froggy voice.
“Big boomers. They don’t ever blow
this far south. Relax. Hey, hand me
that rum.”
Boiling black out there. Horizon to
horizon. Left to right, streaked with
strange, searing blackness and
alabaster white with carmine red
fingers. I could smell the danger, the
lightning, almost touch the ragged
edges dragging spikey tails across
lumpy seas; feel raw wind scald my
skin and tear at the clattering sails.
Then three seconds.
Lightning strike.
‘Heavy wind’ was more like a
hallucination. Close-hauled, the first
gust smacked us sideways, like a
300-lb. defensive tackle who eats
what he kills.
Total knockdown. The boat floundered
on its side. I honked onto the boom
with one arm and the halyard with the
other. All hell broke wild and loose.
Dangling in green water to my armpits,
legs thrashed in foaming nothingness
down there. The deck was half under,
on its beam ends. Green sea water
gushed in the cockpit, plunging down
the cabin hatchway.
for a comfortable liveaboard lifestyle. But we were about to
find out about living – or buying it -- on the bottom.
Richard grunted “Arghhh, arghh, aaarrgghhh!” He'd have dry
heaves in any wild encounter with the ocean. Wrestling the
tiller, veering upwind, he snorted, “Drop that main!”
I knew what had to be done. I jumped onto the deckhouse
roof. He fumbled with the main sheet, ripped it off the cleat.
It zipped out, the ship veered.
blubbering a prayer to Mars and Saturn to get off my sorry
asp and let me get this boat stopped from its suicide into
the depths. Screaming wind was a force that couldn’t be
conquered. Its noise was a locomotive rolling over us,
tearing at our skin, eyes, mouths. One small split and it
plunged for invasion, swinging for a knockout.
careened, zapped its side all the way into the drink. Wind
spilled away and we instantly rebounded, almost upright. I
struggled to unwind the halyard off the cleat and tear the
line loose. Most of the main had crashed down on me,
covered the whole boat. Now it was gyrating over again in
the wave pattern, trying to deep six itself, the sail, and me in
the foaming sea.
upright. The sail crashed down. Slammed down on the
deck. The heavy keel flipped us quickly upright. I was
tossed like a rag doll, back onto the cabin roof. MORE...
was half the size of a living room, a gift from the recent
hurricane. She had thrown up enough bottom onto the wide
beach there could be anything under there. The 'anything'
we hoped for, greedily dug for, was Jean LaFitte's legacy --
gold and silver of Spain's treasure fleet the Pirate had
buried, or lost at sea when his Pirate galleon ...
MORE...
to Paradise:
Part 1
Escape the Grind,
a Kingdom of Your Own
“Argh! Argh, Argh,” Richard croaked
in his Black Beard froggy voice.
“Big boomers. They don’t ever blow
this far south. Relax. Hey, hand me
that rum.”
Boiling black out there. Horizon to
horizon. Left to right, streaked with
strange, searing blackness and
alabaster white with carmine red
fingers. I could smell the danger, the
lightning, almost touch the ragged
edges dragging spikey tails across
lumpy seas; feel raw wind scald my
skin and tear at the clattering sails.
Then three seconds.
Lightning strike.
‘Heavy wind’ was more like a
hallucination. Close-hauled, the first
gust smacked us sideways, like a
300-lb. defensive tackle who eats
what he kills.
Total knockdown. The boat floundered
on its side. I honked onto the boom
with one arm and the halyard with the
other. All hell broke wild and loose.
Dangling in green water to my armpits,
legs thrashed in foaming nothingness
down there. The deck was half under,
on its beam ends. Green sea water
gushed in the cockpit, plunging down
the cabin hatchway.
- This was a 35-foot full keel
for a comfortable liveaboard lifestyle. But we were about to
find out about living – or buying it -- on the bottom.
Richard grunted “Arghhh, arghh, aaarrgghhh!” He'd have dry
heaves in any wild encounter with the ocean. Wrestling the
tiller, veering upwind, he snorted, “Drop that main!”
I knew what had to be done. I jumped onto the deckhouse
roof. He fumbled with the main sheet, ripped it off the cleat.
It zipped out, the ship veered.
- The boom shot out, perpendicular, with me, clinging
blubbering a prayer to Mars and Saturn to get off my sorry
asp and let me get this boat stopped from its suicide into
the depths. Screaming wind was a force that couldn’t be
conquered. Its noise was a locomotive rolling over us,
tearing at our skin, eyes, mouths. One small split and it
plunged for invasion, swinging for a knockout.
- The belly of the mains’l was in the water, edges
careened, zapped its side all the way into the drink. Wind
spilled away and we instantly rebounded, almost upright. I
struggled to unwind the halyard off the cleat and tear the
line loose. Most of the main had crashed down on me,
covered the whole boat. Now it was gyrating over again in
the wave pattern, trying to deep six itself, the sail, and me in
the foaming sea.
- Coughing up salt geysers. Gagging, gasping for a
upright. The sail crashed down. Slammed down on the
deck. The heavy keel flipped us quickly upright. I was
tossed like a rag doll, back onto the cabin roof. MORE...
was half the size of a living room, a gift from the recent
hurricane. She had thrown up enough bottom onto the wide
beach there could be anything under there. The 'anything'
we hoped for, greedily dug for, was Jean LaFitte's legacy --
gold and silver of Spain's treasure fleet the Pirate had
buried, or lost at sea when his Pirate galleon ...
MORE...
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| Sail the Caribbean High Seas -- Adventures on the Bounding Main -- Pirate's Revenge Yo-Ho-Ho! |
*These are True Stories, rip-roaring adventures Capt. Jack Sparrow, Indiana Jones
or James Bond would be proud to star in. However, Not to be confused in any way,
shape or form with any of those movies or actors.
or James Bond would be proud to star in. However, Not to be confused in any way,
shape or form with any of those movies or actors.
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Readers Reviews:
Writes Capt. Bill Hartley, en
route Nassau/ Panama Canal &
points west:
"A really clever book. Fun to
read. I liked the entertaining
stories of pirates and these great
sailing adventures; everybody is
sure to enjoy. Capt.Chuck has
sailed through a lifetime of
funny, daring, and some very
scary situations".
_________________
From Muriel Vincent, First
Mate/Chef on 125' French Leave
at Antigua, British West Indies:
"I loved the tale about Lost
Atlantis. Now I have to dive that
strange rock road formation to
see if it really is man made."
_________________
From Barbara Baker, as a
landlubber now far from the sea:
" I cruised with Capt.Chuck in
the Carib, and lived a couple of
these great voyages. He's a pro.
Yep, they're all for real!. All I
can say is, Whee--ew!"
Write your Review
for Capt. Chuck:
We'll publish it!
Writes Capt. Bill Hartley, en
route Nassau/ Panama Canal &
points west:
"A really clever book. Fun to
read. I liked the entertaining
stories of pirates and these great
sailing adventures; everybody is
sure to enjoy. Capt.Chuck has
sailed through a lifetime of
funny, daring, and some very
scary situations".
_________________
From Muriel Vincent, First
Mate/Chef on 125' French Leave
at Antigua, British West Indies:
"I loved the tale about Lost
Atlantis. Now I have to dive that
strange rock road formation to
see if it really is man made."
_________________
From Barbara Baker, as a
landlubber now far from the sea:
" I cruised with Capt.Chuck in
the Carib, and lived a couple of
these great voyages. He's a pro.
Yep, they're all for real!. All I
can say is, Whee--ew!"
Write your Review
for Capt. Chuck:
We'll publish it!
PHOTO BY CARL CAMPER
A production of LLC-3Arts Publishing, Copyright*2001 all rights Reserved
Download the Book
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The full text: 247 pages of
fun,hilarious adventure, sailing the
Bounding Main! Just $16.95
-OR-
CD only $12.00 free ship.
Order Your own Pirates Pearls &
Paradise Today! Avast Me
Hearties, Ye'll Love this Voyage!
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