| Boardings
It was a night from hell. We were fog bound, no wind and taking huge rollers on the beam. Below the cabin looked like a mix master. The DVD case opened and deposited it's contents in a closed (!!!) sock drawer on the other side of the cabin. We had just put back in the water and the seams were still swelling so the bilge was adding to the mess below. The wife was sick. The two cats were sick and I was straining to spot the channel markers off Point Loma so we could turn stern to and make that final run into the calm waters of the bay.
It was black and cold and nasty when suddenly a high speed boat roared up behind us and blinded me with a mega spot light. They did not identify themselves and I bellowed for him to turn off the @#$% spot light. "Do you know who I am?" an invisible voice shouted.
"Turn off your @#$%^ spot light!" We were trying to find our turning point between the surf and kelp beds and the jetty.
"What if you have a gun!" he shouted. I still had no idea who he was but from his actions I had a pretty good idea. My wife, a generally cooler head than me popped out of the companion way and shouted, "We surrender."
"You are talking to a federal officer. We have to see if you have a gun."
"We surrender. What do you want?" she added again. The kid continued his lecture and any hope of getting my night vision back in the next half hour was gone.
"We surrender. What do you want?" she shouted again.
It was after midnight but the kid finally caught on. "Where are you from and where are you going?"
"Mission Bay and we're trying to get home to Coronado now turn off that light."
They roared away. ICE? Homeland Security? Customs? I don't believe they ever did identify themselves but it's nice to know if the United States is ever invaded by 40 year old, wooden ketches traveling at 4 knots, armed with two sea sick cats and a fiery redhead, we'll be safe.
Cheers,
John & Jan
SV Santa Teresa
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