We had set sail the Friday before last, a bad omen from the start as any Sailor would tell you departing on a Friday was anything but lucky. Our home port of Boston seemed like a world away, as we sliced thru the pirate invested waters of the coast of Somalia. We were about 180 miles off  the coast, twenty short of the recommended two hundred. I had spent many a nights listening to my shipmates tell there stories about the pirates that infested these waters, but never dreamed I’d have one of my own to tell.

Its hard for me to find the words to express the fear one feels when they find themselves facing death with nowhere to run, and no prospects of help. I know I’m not the only one to face such circumstances on the high sea and consider myself lucky to have survived, although my ending is a happy one I know there are many others who weren’t as lucky as us. The pirates of today don’t have eye patches and peg legs, they’ve got satellites and spy networks. They board our vessels of commerce that are denied there right to even bear arms to protect themselves against these illegal boarders bearing assault rifles and grenade launchers.the pirates of today seize  cargo’s and ships either ransoming, killing ,or abandoning the crews at sea.

I remember it as if it was yesterday, the warning was announced right at three in the morning, the fantail watch had spotted two fast approaching craft to starboard. We had drilled somewhat for such a circumstance and I reported to stbd fire station to man a hose. I remember feeling a little ridiculous holding a hose with two others, as I stared at the mounted guns illuminated by our ships searchlights. Feeling like I was a hundred miles in the desert with a dead camel and empty canteen, I suddenly felt the jerk as our hose was charged. I watched in horror as the sparks flew off the bridge wings as the pirates fired at the searchlights, it looked like a scene from a movie but I knew this was for real and any moment I could die. Not wanting to let loose with our hose, feeling it would be like painting a bulls-eye on our foreheads, I tried to discourage the sailor in front from doing so. To no avail i felt the hose jerk as he released our no lethal water into the hornets nest. I wish I could say we drew blood but i think we would have been lucky to have gotten them wet. Hitting the deck as the rounds pinged around us I began to crawl with the others to the closest hatch. the skin of the ship our only protection from the hail of gun fire.