Max Hardberger - Seized: A Sea Captains Adventures Battling Scoundrels and Pirates While Recovering Stolen Ships in the Worlds Most Troubled Waters

T HE AUTHOR OF A memoir is expected to tell the truth, as best as he or she can recollect it. However, a writer who intends to entertain as well as inform must do more than recount mere facts; even the teller of truth may have to reconstruct dialogue for those words lost in the mists of time. In addition, I have changed the names of locations and ships to protect the innocentand the guilty; in a few instances, for the purposes of pacing and narrative, I have combined elements of two or more separate experiences into one. Otherwise, all the experiences described in the book are recounted as I remember them.

During the years covered by this book, I and my associates made many enemiessome still living and preying on the unwary. So while Ive recounted my own actions, and stand behind them, Ive no wish to force my friends to do the same. Ive therefore changed the names and descriptions of the people in the book, except those previously revealed in public records. If some of the villains Ive encountered escape censure as a result, Ill be content to let them be judged by their Maker.

In spite of the above, this work is essentially true to my life, and to the stories of the many men and women who, for better or worse, came and went during those turbulent days.

T HE FIRST TIME I ever stole a ship out of port was on the sturdy old bulk carrier Naruda, lying at anchor in Cap Haitien Bay, Haiti, at the end of May 1987. We had finished discharging our cargo of rice the previous day, and on Friday afternoon I was sitting in the wheelhouse, waiting for a clearance to leave, when I noticed a gang of soldiers with automatic weapons coming out of the customs building on the waterfront. They climbed down into a rough-hewn dory bobbing against the dock.

My first officer, a heavyset Dominican named Arturo Robles, appeared at the door to the starboard wing of the bridge, his shirt unbuttoned and his round brown belly streaked with sweat. Hold is clean, Cap, he announced. Can we let the Haitians have the rice?

Sure, I said. Looks like were going to have visitors, First. I nodded my chin toward the dory, now pulling steadily toward us through the low Atlantic swells that rolled in past the reefs. The boatman sculling on the stern was helped by a gentle breeze that whispered down from the western mountains and carried the smells of rotten fruit and sunbaked dirt from the slums that ring the bay.

Arturo crossed to the port side. That boats full of soldiers, he said. Trouble for us, Captain?

Yeah. I knew when the agent couldnt get us a clearance yesterday that something bad was going to happen. We shouldve upped anchor and steamed out last night.

The boat sped across the cloud-dappled water and pulled up at the pilot ladder on the ships port side. I went down on deck to meet the soldiers as they climbed up one by one. The first man up was a short, stocky officer with a Colt automatic in a scarred black holster.

You captain? he demanded in a gravelly voice.

Yes, I said, Im the captain. How may I help you?

He thrust a grimy, badly photocopied paper into my hand. It said that the ship was seized pour les dettes.

Whats this about? I asked in French. What debts are these, eh?

He shrugged. His men crowded on deck behind him and stared at me sullenly. Its a matter for the court, he said. You are required to go to court on Monday. He waved two of the men forward, thin young men in faded uniforms, one light-skinned and the other black as jet. They carried submachine guns slung over their shoulders. These men will stay on board until then, the officer said. You will feed them and treat them properly.

I bowed toward them. Of course, I said. They will be our guests on board.

You will give them a radio, the officer said. Une radio portative. So they can call the port office if anything goes wrong.

Yes, of course, I said.

His muddy little eyes glinted with hostility. You will give it to them now, before I leave.

I shrugged and turned to Arturo. First, please go get one of the walkie-talkies and bring it down. The yellow one.

He hesitated. Of the four walkie-talkies on board, the yellow one had the worst battery. It wouldnt stay charged more than a couple of hours. I gave him a look. He said Yessir and hurried to the accommodations.

The officer and I regarded each other without talking. A few minutes later Arturo returned and gave the officer the walkie-talkie. He held it to his ear and said, Capitaine du port, capitaine du port, le btiment appelle.

After a few seconds, the port office answered. The officer handed the walkie-talkie to the light-skinned soldier. Call the captain of the port if the ship tries to leave, he told him. Do you understand?

Oui, Colonel, the man said. The colonel herded the rest of his men down the pilot ladder and the dory swung away from the ships side, the boatmans black, muscular back working as he sculled against the wind.

Please, I said to the soldiers, you can relax in the messroom if you wish. The cook will bring you drinks.

The black man started toward the accommodations without speaking, but the brown man ducked his head and murmured, Merci, Capitaine.

I went with them to the crews mess on the starboard side and told Cookie, hovering unhappily in the galley, to bring them Cokes with ice. Lunch was over, but I told him to fix them something to eat.

Back on the bridge, Arturo said, Why are you treating those men so well, Captain? You will not get them to disobey their orders.

I chuckled. No, but maybe I can get them to drop their guard.

What do you have in mind?

I went up close and lowered my voice. Were not waiting until Monday. The judge will probably order us off the ship, and might even put us all in jail. Im taking this ship out tonight.

His brown eyes widened. Put us in jail? What for? What have we done?

Weve done nothing wrong. But you know that the receiverthat little fat man who came on board when we first arrivedis claiming a short shipment. Its not the ships fault that the shipper didnt load as much cargo as the Haitian paid for, but that wont matter to a Haitian court. The only thing we can do is get out.

What about the guards? Youre not going to

No, no, I said hurriedly. I wont hurt them. Pero cada quien tiene su manera de matar pulgas, seguro?

He nodded. Everybody kills fleas in his own way is the Spanish equivalent to Theres more than one way to skin a cat. I clapped him on the shoulder. Dont say anything to the crew. I havent got a plan yet, but I can promise you this: We wont be here Monday morning.

He went down and I called the ships ownera middle-aged Greek living in Miami with his young American wifeon the SSB radio. He was at home and accepted the collect call.

But, Captain, he cried, the ships not responsible for short-loading. Surely the judge will let the ship sail.

I think the receiver is trying to steal the ship. This is an outlaw port, you know. He can do what he wants here.

Sacred Mary! What can we do, then?