Chapter 18 - part 2
'Scuppered'

At first it was just another dot dancing in the shimmering heat, but then he realised something in the water was getting marginally larger by the second.
“Tom, can you bring your range-finder glasses up on deck please,” he called out to the open door of the comms room, and as Tom emerged, he continued, “these are only 30x and not set up for range-finding.”

“Here Kurt, “ replied Tom as he reached the deck and handed over the large lensed 75x glasses, “be careful, not only are they extremely expensive, but they are so powerful that if you catch a sun-burst off the sea you could be blinded. You’ll need this tripod to keep it still enough to focus.”
“Thanks, I’ll go for it, “ Kurt responded as he screwed in the tripod platform and dropped the legs down to the deck. Tom returned to the comms room as Kurt prepared to scan for the dot he had seen.

He looked through the normal glasses and located where the dot was and positioned the range finders and then dropped down to the eyepieces. He jumped as the powerful lenses almost brought the entire coastline into his face. After a little practise he was able to find the dot and lock onto it. It was a small boat and it was heading directly for their position. He pressed the range-finder button on the side of the glasses and looked at the data. He read off that it was about 4 metres long, around 2,800 metres away and travelling at about 30 knots. It would take them about two minutes to be in sight of the Sea Witch and within hailing distance. He dis-mounted the glasses and returned them to Tom before dashing into the stateroom.

“Lisa, in less than two minutes we’ll have a boat from the shore in our faces, is everything ready?”
“We’re all set in here, would you wait out there to welcome them?”
“Right on!”
Two minutes later the power boat slowed to a stop 50 metres from the Sea Witch. A figure appeared from the small cabin, a loud hailer in his hand.
“Ahoy Sea Witch, Ahoy.”
Kurt raised their loud hailer and replied, “Ahoy, hello, how can we help you?”
“Permission to come aboard sir.”
“Of course you are very welcome to come aboard, however we’d like to know just who we are welcoming aboard and why?”
“We have the harbour Inspector and a member of Namibian Police here who need to speak to the master of the vessel.”

“Well, I’m sure you are aware that neither of them have jurisdiction on this vessel, but of course we would always be willing to assist if we can, please use the ladder from the diving platform extended below me.”
Three men slowly clambered onto the platform and then one by one they climbed the ladder until all three were standing before Kurt.
“I’m Kurt Hoeliche, research analyst associated with the Cape Town University Marine Biology faculty. Welcome aboard the Sea Witch.” He extended his hand towards the men. No-one took his hand, nor did they reciprocate his warm greeting. Instead they simply pushed past him and walked into the stateroom.

Analise looked up from her notes. “May I help you gentlemen?” She stood, arms folded in the centre of the stateroom, Margie was dropping small pieces of fish into the lobster tank.
“Who’s in charge here?” snapped a man in a black suit, buttoned and bulging over his well fed paunch.
“I am,” replied Analise, instantly taking a dislike to him, “And who are you?”
“I’ll ask the questions here, who are you?”
“I am Analise Van Rensberg, Marine Biologist – and that’s the last question I shall answer unless you exercise the basics of civility.”

“I am Captain Hermanus Jungers of the Swakopmund Security Service, I have to ask you some questions.”
“Really? Well let’s start with me telling you some basic facts you need to know. Right now you are in South Africa – I hope you brought your passports – and this vessel is protected by registration in the Republic. You have no jurisdiction here whatsoever, and whilst we are always willing to welcome visitors and people with a genuine interest in our research, we will NOT be interrogated by jack-booted thugs who have no knowledge of basic civility. Do you understand?”

“This is Lieutenant Mackateer from the Namibian Coast Guard, he’s in charge of Swakopmund Harbour. You must answer his questions!”
Analise pressed on the remote control button in the palm of her hand and in the comms room Tom was waiting for the emergency call from that device. Immediately he flicked on the multi-channel hailer and pressed the key marked ‘EMERGENCY’ which opened all channels simultaneously. He selected the microphone switch and depressed it.
“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, this is South African research vessel Sea Witch anchored on leeward side of Condor Rock within South African waters. We are boarded by Namibian hostiles and fear for the lives of women on board. We urgently need assistance from any South African vessel. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday." He released the key and waited twenty seconds before repeating the message.

After the second attempt there was a response.
“Sea Witch, Sea Witch, this is South African Coastguard cutter ‘Admiral Ashborne’. We are currently 30 kilometres south south east of you, can we help? Over.”
“Admiral Ashborne, thank you sir, yes, we have been boarded by three men from Swakopmund who refuse to say who they are or what business they have with this vessel. We are currently studying the blue rock lobster found on Condor shelf, with the full support of Cape Town University. I am concerned sir because the three men have the two women in our team in the stateroom of the vessel. Whatever their intent, if they are armed then they may harm us all. Over.”

“Sea Witch, acknowledged. Do not attempt to negotiate with them, and do not let them take anything off the vessel if possible. If they do not leave we shall arrest them on arrival. We are making 40 knots at this time. We shall be with you in about 30 minutes. In view of the urgency, I have despatched one of our helicopters, which will be with you in ten minutes. Over.”

“Thank you sir, we appreciate your assistance. Over.”
“You’re welcome, keep this channel open, call us if anything changes, over.”
“Roger, thank you, standing by.”
Tom depressed a small button on the internal communicator and Analise felt the remote control buzz in her hand. She straightened up fully and turned to look the man who had done all the talking straight in the eye.
“I’m not feeling polite anymore. Now, you tell me who you REALLY are.”
The man did not answer. All three regarded her with steely eyes, their hands fingering guns that were obvious by the bulges in their jackets. Analise continued, “None of you have produced any credentials or identification. We try to be friendly, you are hostile. We are South Africans on a legitimate marine research expedition, on a vessel owned and registered by South Africans, and moored in South African waters. I must advise you that we have expedited distress calls. You probably have less than twenty minutes to leave this area. I strongly urge you to do so, it will take you five minutes to get your boat under way.”

“Are you threatening us?” The man stepped forward a little menacing. Analise was a little worried, not for herself as she could handle herself, but for Margie behind her.
“She may not be, but we are!” Rafi and Kurt were standing behind the men. The silent one who had not uttered a word, swung round and came face to chest with Rafi. He was less than Analise’s height, compared to Rafi’s 2.2 metres. He stepped back and looked up at the St Helenan’s face, it was angry. For a second he withered, then he gathered his composure. He still didn’t speak, but Kurt did.
“We agreed to your request to come aboard, our team leader offered hospitality and would have been willing to show you over the boat. We would have taken time to explain exactly what it is we do. However, you blew that right out of the water by your arrogant hostile attitude. Now you must leave.”

For ten minutes the exchange of heated words continued. The men refused to leave and Rafi was all for cracking their skulls. Meanwhile, the Coastguard was getting close and the Sikorsky turbo-powered gunbus from the cutter was minutes away. The pilot could see the Sea Witch ahead of him and he opened a hailing frequency.

“Sea Witch, this is Coastguard helicopter Alpha two niner fife ECHO, do you read, over.”
Tom, wearing headphones to keep the radio from alerting the intruders, pressed the key and replied, “Roger, helicopter A295E, this is Sea Witch, we read you loud and clear. Over.”
“Are you OK sir? Are the hostiles still on board? If you can’t answer safely, press your key once for no, twice for yes, over.”
“Roger A295E, we are still in the state of hostility. I am Tom and the sole occupier of the comms room, on phones. The door is locked. Go ahead, I am listening, over.”

“Thank you Tom, we have you on visual and must be in audible range too so expect some activity. I am going to use the external loud hailers to talk to the hostiles, over.”
“Roger sir, we will standby, I hear your turbines and blades now. Over.”
He wasn’t the only one, the others had heard it too. The three men, assuming this to be one of their SMC gunbuses looked around the room in triumph. The spokesman broke into a sneering grin. He turned toward Kurt and Rafi. “OK smart guys, let’s see how brave you are against our high speed cannons on the gunbus. As soon as we leave, they will blow you out of the water!”
“Now that sounds like a threat!” replied Analise.

Before the man could respond, there was a loud crackle from outside as the helicopter’s loud hailers powered up. The pilot kept his message short.
“Attention Namibian intruders on board the South African vessel Sea Witch, this is the South African Coastguard. Your boat and your persons are trespassing outside your territorial waters. You must leave the Sea Witch now. We will give you five minutes to board your boat and start your return to Namibia. If you fail to comply, your boat will be sunk and we shall hold you until the cutter ‘Admiral Ashborne’ arrives. You will then be arrested. If you understand this message and wish to leave, come out onto the deck, into the sunlight, and we will hold off any further action.”

Tom was looking at the radar screen. He pressed the microphone switch. “A295E, this is Sea Witch, do you copy. Over”
“Go ahead Sea Witch, over.”
“Check your radar sir, I believe a private gunbus helicopter has left the mainland and possibly heading this way. Over.”
“Roger Sea Witch, we are aware of it, Impala jets have scrambled from the Maajansrijk airbase. They will be here long before that gunbus. If it persists on its route and appears hostile, it will be shot down as soon as it crosses into our airspace. Over”

“Roger sir, we will await the result. Over.”
“I will now hail the intruders again. Over and out.”
The pilot hailed the Namibian SMC employees again and advised them that their time was almost up. Tom heard every word through the wooden door. He knew the men must have too, yet they didn’t move.

For several minutes the SMC men stood without speaking, facing Analise and Margie, with Kurt and Rafi at their backs. Then came the distinctive sound of another helicopter, one of the SMC gunbuses. A look of triumph crossed the faces of the SMC thugs. The pilot of the gunbus, eager to make a kill, began firing on the Coastguard helicopter. The Coastguard pilot could have returned fire easily, but had received a call on their secure frequency not to do so. The gunbus pilot considered this helicopter to be one of the Sea Witch party and easy pickings.

“Hostile gunbus, you are firing on a South African Coastguard gunbus helicopter, you are now in violation of our airspace. You must desist and turn about immediately. Failure to do so may result in destruction of your aircraft.”
Tom heard the Coastguard gunbus warn the SMC gunbus on open channels. Even knowing this, the SMC pilot fired again, using his high-speed rotating machine guns. At 600 rounds per minute these would have shredded the Coastguard helicopter’s tail rotor had the SMC pilot been accurate in his aim. Fortunately he was not. The Coastguard gunbus withdrew quickly.

The three men whooped with delight and, turning round, forced their way past Kurt and Rafi onto the deck where they shook their fists at the departing Coastguard helicopter and saluted the SMC gunbus. The explosion, when it came, shook the Sea Witch and lit up the sky brighter than the setting sun. It’s bright flash reflected off the faces of the three thugs as their jubilation turned to horror. The SMC gunbus disintegrated before their very eyes. A second later three South African Airforce fighters passed low over the Sea Witch, made a gentle right hand turn and then with a burst of after-burner, sped back to their base.

“Whoowhee!” shouted Tom as he emerged from the comms room. “The South African Coastguard and the airforce both warned him. They told him to stop firing and return to his base. He ignored them and kept firing. He was a lousy shot too, but they weren’t --- POOF! And he’s no more!”

The three men, somewhat shocked by the destruction of their helicopter in front of them, began descending the ladder to the diving platform. They clambered into their boat and started the engine. The one that had done all the talking picked up the loud hailer, “You will hear more from us!” He called as he almost fell over when the boat began to move. One of them men fumbled about and appeared to be trying to load a rifle. Rafi stepped forward to the railings at the edge of the deck. He held a small dark object in his hand.
“What’s that Rafi?” Tom asked, pointing at the object.
“Flare pistol,” Rafi replied as he raised it up above his shoulder and pointed it in the direction of the departing boat. He squeezed the trigger and a bright red ball whistled and popped its way through the air and disappeared into the deck area of the boat. It appeared to go out and Rafi grunted in disappointment. “Ah well, at least I gave them a reminder of ------ “ he was cut off by a dull thud followed by a sudden fireball bursting skywards. Seconds later only small pieces of wreckage from the boat could be seen bobbing on the water.

“Well done Rafi, old son, fantastic shot, I don’t think they suffered, gone in a flash.” He patted the big man on his shoulder.
A distinctive sound made them look to the south where they saw the Coastguard helicopter again approaching their position, the bullet holes clearly visible in the fuselage. From an underslung speaker the pilot called out to them. “Sea Witch, we request permission to come aboard to complete our report of this incident. Please acknowledge by radio or signal lamp.”
Rafi raised a large signal lamp and pointed it towards the helicopter. Using the shutter key, in Morse code he spelled out – “P-E-R-M-I-S-S-I-O-N—G-R-A-N-T-E-D.” Immediately a rope ladder descended from the helicopter and a figure clad in a flying suit and helmet began to climb down as the helicopter moved closer to the Sea Witch.

© Bob Curby 2009