The other passengers on the deck were very concerned for Jim, but really were confused in just how to react. The situation was quite unique and stunning. The shock value was still extremely high and being in the thick salt air and scorching sun only served to skew what was left of their perspectives on reality.
To summarize up to current time, Jim Stowe, along with his wife Dyane, led a vacation sail trip with twenty of their good friends, renting a tremendous yacht to freely cruise around the Caribbean. They met at the docks at Paradise Key “to be given the keys to the boat” at sunrise on Monday August 8th. Leaving the dock an hour later, their freedom was just two hours old when they encountered a ship of pirates.
It was a most unusual scene that took place not that far away from Paradise Key. They were just two hours into the trip and for the most part, no one even realized that there was a ship approaching them. Everyone was settling in for the cruise, most below deck checking out their accommodations and partaking of some beverages in a food/drink storage area. Jim, Alan, Hunter and a young family friend from Ohio, Brandon Logue, was all pretty much gathered at the controls with Jim at the wheel. The boat was steered toward the southeast and they were briskly moving away from Paradise Key and any signs of civilization toward the unknown. The four of them were sharing their dreams of adventure, well, at least their expectations of the trip. None of them were concerned about looking behind the yacht to see what they had left behind.
The terms ‘amateur’ and ‘rookies’ came to mind when thinking about how the pirate ship had appeared from out of nowhere behind them and had tracked them a good half hour as they neared the yacht. It wasn’t until about ten minutes from the actual side by side boarding that took place that the pirate ship was even recognized. Talk about being in a zone. In the open waters, no one noticed a pirate ship, obviously not a normal looking boat in appearance, coming closer to them…at ANY time since their launch?
Who could blame them. They were all assembled for the adventure of a life time. So, they were unaware of their surroundings. Blame the adrenaline. Blame the testosterone. And, well, the trip of two hours was to live up to its billing immediately…it was to be an adventure of a lifetime.
In an intimidating show of just who was in control, there were confrontations of violence that left both leaders, Captain Bones of the pirate group and Jim Stowe of the vacationers, seriously hurt. Others in the Stowe brigade that were overwhelmed by hostilities were: Scotty Mayes, who was now bobbing with the barracudas after being mortally wounded by the gunfire of Rusty, the red haired wife of Bones; Hunter James, on the south end of a concussion when introduced to a wall on the yacht; and Dylan Dodge, who received a scar from chin to waist while coming to the rescue of his beautiful young newlywed wife, Mandy, who had been sexually assaulted by being groped numerously by Bones.
Rusty did some primitive stitch work on the gaping wounds of her husband and Stowe, who both were recently brought below deck to rest in more comfortable quarters. Summer had been monitoring their recoveries for the short term since Rusty’s display of sewing skills.
One person was still unaccounted for in the Stowe party: his wife Dyane. Her absence actually triggered the first of the violent confrontations between pirate and everyday land lover. The last place she was seen was down below with Mandy as the ship was being commandeered by Captain Bones. Following Bones visit below deck, only Mandy was found by the crusty Captain, who unmercifully fondled the young woman tearing her clothes.
Ironically, Stowe was down below in the same area where his wife was last seen. There were several rooms down there, sleeping quarters that were available for the original twenty two sailors. To push that envelope of irony, Captain Bones was also down there in the same area.
But where was Dyane?
No one knew…yet.
Back on deck, several of the vacationers were wearing down from dehydration. The pirates surrounding them weren’t generous with any food or beverage as one would expect, and a couple of the weaker passengers were showing signs of sea sickness. All of the excitement from the morning no doubt contributed to the feeling of collectively being beat down.
Alan Mayes assumed a leadership role in the absence of Jim Stowe. He wandered slowly over towards Briggs, who was left in charge as Rusty went below to tend to Bones.
“That’s far enough, Mate” Briggs warned in breaking the silence.
“Briggs, how about some water for us?” Alan asked.
“Sorry, do you see any?” he responded salty.
“Come on Briggs…water…I know you know what that is. We need some…” Alan pushed.
“No. Settle down and get back with the others” Briggs pushed back.
“Briggs…you’re not listening. We have people who are weakening fast. We need some water. I’m not asking for control of the ship back. Dammit, I’m requesting some water” Alan grumbled most audibly, not taking Briggs ‘no’ or his saltiness for an answer.
Briggs stood his ground silently.
“Goddammit Briggs!” yelled a frustrated Alan.
Alan made a move forward and Briggs jumped back into an attack stance.
“Last warning, Mate! Don’t!” screamed Briggs.
“BRIGGS! Water! We need some NOW!” Alan screamed losing control of his temper.
Briggs stood like a statue, continuing to aggravate his confronter to no end.
Before Alan could make his next move, two eighteen year old boys made their way to the area of the standoff.
“Briggs, what’s the deal with this?” Brandon Logue intervened loud enough for anybody on the boat to hear. “You know we are weak. You know we need water. You know we have water. Yet, you won’t give us any water. Why? What’s your deal, dude?”
The other teenager, Mark Russell also from Ohio, answered his friend “Hey man, he’s just being a dick.”
Of course, Russell’s comment could be heard by Briggs as well as everyone gathered in the area. Briggs turned and looked sternly at Logue and then Russell. He was not amused.
“We can all see that he’s being a dick, Mark. What I want to know is why? There’s no reason for him to be a dick. He’s got the weapons. We don’t. We’re just thirsty.”
Again, Logue’s words could be heard throughout the boat, including the cabin area under the deck. The confrontation captured the attention of Jim Stowe, Summer who was attending to him, and Captain Bones and Rusty who was for the moment caring for him.
The vocal insults flew again when Russell simply deadpanned in response “Dude, they’re pirates. Pirates are dicks. That’s their job. Don’t you remember reading about them? Come on Logue.”
“But there’s no reason for this, Mark. They already captured us. Game over. What’s the point in weakening us? What’s the point in killing us? They already have our stuff. Dude, like I said, it’s game over.”
It was almost as if these two were putting on some theatrical event. Both had made their way up to where Alan was confronting Briggs. It was stage-like, so to speak. Both were unusually very loud, as if they were purposely projecting their voices to everyone on the yacht.
But to the casual observer, it also appeared as though these two boys had a death wish…or at the very least was pushing the irritation factor with Briggs and company.
Briggs stayed silent and at attack attention mode.
“Game over? It’s not game over. They’re PIRATES! Their game has just started. It’s about punishment. It’s about suffering. It’s about torture and then death. It’s not just robbery and you’re free to go…” ranted Russell.
“Shit. Yeah, I guess you’re right. But we still need some water! Briggs, how about it?”
Briggs stood tall. It was time for another pirate to jump into the action. Ratface walked over to young men and grabbed a hold of each with a hand and screamed at them.
“Both of you get the fuck out of here. Go back to the others and shut the fuck up!”
Ratface shoved both of them back in the direction of the others. They both fell to the deck temporarily and jumped back up to their feet.
“All I wanted was some fucking water…” Logue said in disgust.
“Fucking pirates…” Russell added.
“You got a problem little boy?” Ratface screamed at Logue.
“Yeah…all I want is some fucking water. We all need some fucking water.”
“Sounds like you need to get some water. SO what’s the problem?” Ratface chided in egging him on.
“You have the water and we don’t” answered Logue abruptly.
“So what are you gonna do about it?” challenged Ratface.
Logue went silent.
“Come on little boy, what are you going to do about it?” Ratface challenged again.
Logue was no more than six feet from Ratface. The tension was incredibly thick. They went eye to eye, both shooting laser flames at each other. Though, Logue still stood there like a statue. Was he succumbing to Ratface? Or was he plotting his next daring smart mouth move?
Ratface was not going to give in. Pirates don’t ever do that. So the pressure was on Logue. Was Logue calculating? Or was he scared out of his mind.
“Just as I thought…gutless…” Ratface stated while lowering his eyes. “What a fucking pussy.”
As Ratface turned to begin walking away from Logue, Logue finally attacked. He jumped at him and then tackled him. He didn’t really catch Ratface by surprise, but the sheer strength that Logue displayed brought Ratface down in a tumble with the much younger Logue.
They rolled on the deck, with each combatant taking turns of being on top and controlling the tussle. Logue used his raw strength and sizable weight advantage to gain control at times. Ratface used his long arms and wiry size…also his massive bad breath to gain control in his favor at times.
A crowd gathered around the two. Pirates mixed in with the group in curiosity as to how it would turn out. No one left disappointed. Action was plentiful: from fisticuffs to Logue’s specialty of kicking in the balls. Both fighters spared no energy or focus. They went at each other and both realized that it was going to be a fight to the death.
Logue was quite impressive and the match was even for the first few minutes.
During the initial tumble and rolling, the belt of Ratface that was holding his sword and knife broke free, landing the weapons about twelve feet away from the action. No one in the crowd moved toward those tools of human destruction.
And Mark Russell, one of Logue’s best friends from Ohio, stood very concerned and wanted to jump in to help, but hesitated in fear of another pirate backstabbing him and ending his life in a fleeting moment.
Alan Mayes looked over at Briggs and flatly pointed out “all this for some water. Feel good about yourself?”
Briggs took the challenge posture to Mayes. Mayes didn’t care. He had nothing to lose. He didn’t back down and prepared himself for a rumble as well. He wasn’t planning on making the first move, but was solidly in position for a counter attack.
Meanwhile, Ratface got an upper hand on Logue as he grabbed an unidentified object made of metal and smashed it into Logue’s mouth, pieces of teeth and streams of blood going airborne. He hit him again literally flattening his nose across both cheeks.
In a last ditch effort before realizing that death was at his door, Logue reached and grabbed for the crotch of Ratface. The blood curdling scream that spanned five pitches from deep and dark to high and breathless signaled a direct hit for Logue. He squeezed those nuts until they almost ripped away from the rest of its belongings. Both hands were holding on for dear life as Logue couldn’t breathe. All anyone could hear were the deafening shrieks of a maimed Ratface and the slurping sound of Logue attempting to breathe.
Ratface dug deep one more time and smashed Logue’s face with all the strength that he could muster. While still holding that cylindrical metal object, he crammed it into the nose area again of Logue, this time ripping his nose right off of his face. The exposed sinus cavity was quite the gruesome sight, several onlookers turning away in fright and terror.
With that move, Logue lost the grasp on Ratface’s scrotum. His arms went limp as though his source of energy was just unplugged.
The second of the vacationers had just died. This death was over some water that they needed badly.
As Logue went lifeless in the arms of Ratface, he turned away and curled up in a fetal position writhing in pain.
At that moment’s notice, Mark Russell leapt from the crowd of disgusted onlookers and jumped on top of the unsuspecting Ratface. With one brisk and juiced up punch perfectly placed into the crotch area of Ratface, all was over.
And just as quick as that move was, Russell regained his feet and ran. With three pirates closing in quickly with guns drawn, Russell headed for the nearest railing.
The guns went off in a hail of one way gunfire, the sounds muffled in the sea breezes though heard nonetheless. Russell continued his run away at first somehow avoiding being hit by the bullets fired upon him in retreat.
More gunfire sounded the continued aggression as the pirates closed in on him. And then with one wailing cry, Russell jumped into the air hitting the railing like a gymnast on the horse. He made contact with the top of the railing trying to use it as a springboard into the water.
As he made contact with the rail, the cry indicated that he had been hit, a splat of blood splashing through the air in slow motion for those who doubted the shot’s accuracy. With one leg, he barely touched the rail. With the other, he hit his mark perfectly, springing himself sideways over the rail and into the warm waters of the Caribbean.
The pirates raced over to where the jump took place, shooting aimlessly into the water. They shot their pistols until there was no more ammunition to be shot. They stood there scratching their heads believing that there was no way for him to survive such a gunshot and a fall into the water from about eighteen feet.
As the ship continued its path southward toward that island, there was no sign of Mark Russell anywhere. There was no head bobbing. There was only the splatter of blood indicating a hit.