“Save my place OK? I gotta check something out.”
“Not a chance.” The other Captain called back as he moved his boat up into position.
Frank looked at me with a glare. “This better work or it will be your last ride.”
“It will, hurry up.” Frank and Doug were both pissed.
We pulled up on the other side of the boat and the Colombians started waving us off, and yelling that we should get back in line.
“Then I guess you don’t want this.” I held up two big bags of food. The Colombians eye’s lit up. I knew they would want the food. They have been on the open sea for over a month. FOR SURE they would want a bunch of American food. They started waving us over. They reached for the bags. “Not until we’re loaded.” I said. I threw them the lines and we tied up. We were now loading bales as fast as we could, same as the first boat on the other side. We pulled off of the freighter right after the first boat and headed for the Miami coast. We rode in silence for about an hour. The tension is thick on the way back the boat loaded with thousands of pounds of weed. It’s a real adrenalin rush. We got about three miles from the coast and I picked up the handset.
“This is Spike, This is Spike. I’m about two miles from the exit. How’s it look?”
“STOP YOUR BOAT. HE’S ABOUT TWO OCLOCK, WAY UP THERE. LIKE A STAR.” The voice had so much fear in it I couldn’t even tell which friend was talking to me it was one of the fishing boats watching the coast guard helicopter. Even if the boat is painted gray or blue to avoid detection like ours was, when it is moving in the water, the oxygen that is moving from the propellers creates a trail that can be seen from the sky. That is luminescence. The oxygen glows like a light and it makes a white trail behind the boat which can be seen from the sky. Frank stopped the boat and looked into the sky.
The ocean sky is covered in stars. There are no city lights out on the ocean to brighten them out. It’s wall to wall stars like a carpet, with shooting stars every five minutes. We were all looking and looking and all of a sudden one of the starts made a slight move.
“He’s got us.” Frank said. One star that was way high in the sky looked like it started moving. He made a slight turn and it was obvious he was bearing down on us.
“Let’s get out of here.” I said. We sat there waiting for what seemed like an eternity until the helicopter was right over the boat. All of a sudden they turned the daylight on us and we could see everything. The bottom of the helicopter above the deck looked like a ship out of Star Wars it was so close. We had about twenty bales wrapped in burlap with a red, green and red stripe on them sitting right on the deck in the open. The hull was completely full with fifty six bales, over six thousand pounds total.
I sat with my head buried in my knees. Frank turned the boat hard right and left trying to lose them but they stayed right on us. I saw my friends watching this whole thing from the fishing boats and I knew my other friends were listening to it on the CB radio at the stash house. We tried to lose the helicopter but after about ten turns we straightened out and headed back out to sea. The helicopter turned off of us and went after another boat trying to get in the cut. We headed back out to open ocean. I could the sky getting slightly brighter as the sun started to come up. I knew this wasn’t good.
There were about ten boats trying to make it in that night, ten crews with ten families counting on this. Only one boat made it in that night we learned later. One guy went up north and was arrested in Ft. Lauderdale, two guys tied the steering wheel so their boat would go around in a circle, jumped off and swam to the shore, where they were promptly arrested. One guy who was listening to this giant clusterfuck on his radio, jumped into his 15 foot Donzi speed boat, drove it out to his boat and traded boats with the drivers and drove his load in. Everyone else that night got busted on US soil. Except us, we went through something else.
We pulled up to one of the Bimini which is one of the Bahamian sitting in the ocean less than a hundred miles off the Miami coast. Frank had a friend there named Speedy. He radioed ahead to let Speedy know we were coming and we wanted to park our boat in his boat garage until later that night when we would try again. We needed gas, food and a place to chill and rest for the day. We had been up all night and the adrenalin rush was wearing off. There was a whole network of workers running these islands and the Florida coast. Frank had been in these waters for years and everyone knew him, even the cops.
Everyone had a boat garage. It’s just like a car garage except on the water. You could drive in and park your boat and close the door behind you. We needed to find a stash place quick. We had all those bails on the deck in the open and the sun was starting to lighten the sky. Whatever it cost to stash us and the boat would be worth it, better than getting busted or waiting out on the open ocean all day till nightfall hoping no one would discover us.
As we approached the island we could see a jeep waiting on the shore with three guys in blue uniforms. The jeep was blue and we couldn’t make out the BDF on the door because it was a little too dark still. Chances were good the US coast guard also radioed ahead, and the chances were also good that these guys were waiting for us. The sun wasn’t up yet so there was still a chance we could make it to Speedy’s. On top of it all we were running out of gas, we had to do something. There was no guarantee they were there for us, and even if they were, there was a chance we could buy them off.
As we pulled into the channel, which was not much wider than our boat, we ran out of gas. Two of the men fired M-16’s over the boat. I don’t know if you have ever been shot at, but when the bullet is travelling twenty feet over your head, it sounds like it is travelling right by your ear. We all hit the deck. The guys on the shore started yelling at us to bring the boat here.
“We ran out of gas.” Frank yelled back. They fired more shots.
“Get in da water and bring da boot here mon.” The guy yelled back in an Island dialect. Frank jumped in the water, it was only waist deep and took a rope and dragged the boat to shore. Soon as we got there, two of these island cowboy cops jumped on our boat and they seemed very happy. They had on Blue Cop uniforms that they looked like they slept in. They were all checking the bails and slapping each other on the backs, happy as kids.
“Who is da Captain?” No one said anything . The main cop started punching Frank in the face. Frank just stood there taking the hits. One after another, right in the face. The other cops were laughing.
After three punches I said, “We are all the Captain.” The main guy looked at me and smiled.
“That’s good.” He said with a smile. “Now I’m da Captain. An ya’ll in trouble.” They all started laughing. I looked at the bails of beautiful Gold Columbian weed. Gold with white hairs. This is years before Green Weed, ‘Sinsemilla’ hit the streets, this is back in the day.
A little ten foot boat with an outboard motor and six more cops all with different assault rifles pulled up all talking fast, kind of arguing. I have no problem to say at 16 years old I was pretty nervous. These men were like half cop half and half Pirate. It was obvious they were arguing about whether or not to keep the boat and weed and just kill us. I grew up in Miami surrounded by Jamaicans and Bahamians so I could understand a little of what was being said. I knew it wasn’t good. The sun was coming up and about twenty people were walking to the dock and pointing at us. I think that probably saved us, too many witnesses.
The tied up our Forty foot Cigarette boat a with our nearly six thousand pounds of Prime Colombian weed to their ten foot outboard and towed us into town. Things can change real fast out here, and human life isn’t worth as much here as it is at home. I sat on the boat wondering if I would ever see home again. I went from going to make ten thousand dollars in one night, living a high sea adventure, to our boat and weed being confiscated and me not sure if they will kill us or put us in jail forever or what.
“Look at that.” I said to Frank and Doug. The whole town was coming out and walking toward the dock. They knew the cops would
make us unload our own weed. They had seen this before, probably more than once.
We pulled up to the dock and at gunpoint they made us unload our boat. I was bummed out and a little worried about my immediate future. I figured as soon as they thought they didn’t need us any more they would kill us. I picked up one bale and walked toward the one room building that they were storing it in.
“Give me one. Change my life mon. Ya loss it enyway. Give me one.” The islanders were asking me to give them a bale. I figured why not, we lost it anyway. There was a little turn where I was out of sight of the boat and the building we were walking to. On the next trip I picked up two bails and headed toward the house. At the turn I let one go and an Islander picked it right up. This became the routine. Each time I would grab two and leave one at the turn. No one had any idea what was happening until we were done and the counts didn’t match. The cops were yelling and screaming up a storm, boy they were pissed.
“ You gave away some bails.” Frank asked me.
“Yeah.” I thought he might be mad.
“How many?”
“I don’t know, many as I could. Maybe 16.”
Frank smiled, “Good for you.” Fuck em, we lost it anyway. At least some one will make out.” I was relieved but still a little worried.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“I gotta try and negotiate a deal so they will let us go.” Frank said.
“How you gonna do that?”
“Give them what they want, money.” Frank stood up and was immediately pushed back into the chair. We were then handcuffed to the chairs all three of us side by side.
Frank finally got to talk to the Police Chief. They had a very long intense conversation in the chief’s office. There was a glass window and we could see the whole thing. Frank was sitting and the Chief was talking over him. Like a negotiation not an in terrogation. After a while the Chief pushed the phone to Frank, who dialed a number and talked for about two minutes and hung up. Then Frank came back out and sat back down.
“What happened?’ I asked him, I was definitely getting more and more nervous.
“I made a deal. We have three days to get twenty five thousand dollars here and they will let us go. With the boat, just no weed.”
“Better than being dead. You got this covered, right?” Frank could see I was more than a little shaken.
“Yeah. I called my mom, she knows where to get the cash she is making arrangements to fly it here.” I felt a little relief. I needed a joint real bad.
“How do we know they won’t kill us and your mom too when she gets here?”
“We don’t.” Frank said. “I don’t know, I just know. I’ve been in these waters for years. He’s heard of me, the main guy. Kind of like honor amongst thieves or something. It wouldn’t be right. He made a deal. Cop or not.”
I thought about this for a moment. There was a white Jamaican guy sleeping in the corner. Everyone seemed to know they guy and was real polite to him.
“What’s that guy’s story?” I asked Frank motioning to the sleeping guy.
“That’s Montgomery from Jamaica. He flies planes except he isn’t the best pilot. He’s crashed about ten times. Walked away from every one. I’ve known him for years.”
“Sounds like a good pilot to me. Walked away from ten crashes. I bet anyone can fly a plane. It’s all about the landing, especially when you weren’t planning to land.”
“Yeah well He’s buying his way out of here also. He’s waiting on his money to get here so they cut him loose. That ought to put your mind at ease. If they kill us they won’t have a chance to do this again.” Frank smiled and sat back down. I looked over at the Jamaican guy, not a care in the world. I relaxed a little.
I guess it was a good thing I gave those bales away because they brought us lobster dinners with Brown Becks in the Coca Cola can every night. I didn’t drink but Frank and Doug did. The girl bringing the food in each meal was way cute. Each time she gave me my tray I asked her the same thing, “Can you bring me a joint?” She looked at me like I was crazy the first few times, then one day she was handing out breakfast, scrambled eggs with fresh baked bread and a small salad. She looked me in the eye.
“Is under da bread, mon.” She said very quietly. I waited for her to leave. They unlocked our hands so we could eat. I looked under the toast and there was a big joint and a pack of matches.
“I gotta use the toilet.” I called out. “It’s an emergency. Frank and Doug looked at me like I was crazy then went back to eating their breakfast. One of the cops walked me over to the bathroom and I went inside. I knew the routine, the cop wasn’t going to wait for me there wasn’t any where for me to go. I waited a moment then sparked up the joint and smoked it as fast as I could. I must have took too long cause the cop came back and opened the door looking for me and walked into a room full of smoke. He looked at me crosseyed for a second then started laughing. He grabbed me by the collar and threw me back into the room. The smoke had now poured out into the whole place.
“You couldn’t have saved me some?” Frank asked me. “If I could have I would have. I knew I was gonna get caught. Had to finish it quick.” Frank understood. He wasn’t mad. After that all the cops treated me a little better.
On the third day Frank’s Mother showed up with twenty five thousand dollars in cash. That was about the tenses moment. Wondering if they would just kill us anyway. Amazingly enough they kept their word and let us go, with our boat.
We were driving back three days later, a load lighter, but alive. I crawled into the hull and scraped up some weed, rolled us each a joint and we all smoked. After a few minutes we all started laughing.
“You gonna go again?’ Frank asked me.
“Soon as you’re ready, Captain.”
25
“You think this is a good idea?’ I asked Gary. I was a little worried. I had only been back in Miami a week and I was already getting back on the boat to go pick up a load of weed for ten grand. I had no problem with that. It was who I was going out to sea with and how not prepared we were that was freaking me out. The captain was a beer drinking redneck named Joe. We never got along too good. I had been away about a year and the guys who were loading bales when I left were boat captains now, making five times the amount of cash in one evening that they were previously making.
“Shouldn’t we get some more food? What if some thing happens?’ I was skeptical to say the least. You can’t even visualize the slightest bad result. You might get it. But I hadn’t totally learned that lesson yet. The sea is unforgiving. The sea is a monster ready to swallow you up. Sometimes that’s a lesson you have to learn yourself. Going out to sea, over and over making ten thousand dollars in one evening, and having the biggest adrenalin rush night after night, kind of makes you lose sight of how dangerous smuggling really is.
“Everything will be fine. You guys are only going about eighty miles and back. There’s a boat right off Bimini waiting for you. It’s all set up. Don’t worry about a thing.” Gary said. Famous last words.
“Joe has done this a lot. He’s a pilot.”
“Then why aren’t we flying?”
“Very funny, tough guy.” Gary said. I wasn’t kidding. Joe was this big guy who was about ten years older then me. Just a beer drinking redneck from Miami. I was already on my path to enlightenment. Birkenstocks and tofu sandwiches, I had a job cooking at the biggest vegetarian restaurant in town, training karate five nights a week in the dojo, trying to get into a routine. One look at this guy and I knew my routine was about to get screwed up.
“Come on. You’ll be right back.” I got in the boat and we shoved off the dock. Joe was driving the boat with me riding shot gun. A thirty five five foot Corsa with two outboard motors. This was for sure the hey day of smuggling ventures. Everyone was doing it back then.
As we got further and further away from the dock I looked around and saw nothing but the blackness of the sea. I knew somehow this wasn’t completely thought out.
We didn’t even have a gallon of water.
“Don’t you think we need food? Maybe some water?” I asked Joe. He looked at me like he was crazy or something, like I was supposed to be scared or something, but I wasn’t. Which pissed him off further. Like I said, he was way bigger and older than me.
“We’ll be fine. We’re only going out for a few hours. Not even an all niter. Could be fun to go to Bimini and bang some of them Bahamian whores.” He chuckled when he said that. I couldn’t stand him. I knew this wasn’t going to work out. I looked back at the dock and watched Gary drive out of the parking lot. The sun was setting behind us. In front was nothing but black.
“What if something happens?” I said again.
“Don’t say that. You’ll jinx us. Nothing is going to happen. We’re gonna go about fourteen miles off Bimini. JT will be waiting for us with about forty bails. Load ‘em up, head on back. Collect our dough.”
He guzzled a whole beer in one shot and threw it in the Ocean. He’s a litter bug to boot. I was hating him more every minute.
“How much you making?’ He asked me.
“How much you making?” I answered him.
“I asked you first.” What a child. A big ass grown man getting drunk during the operation. What a stupid little child in a big ass grown man’s body.
“I’m making ten grand. You?’
“Twenty five.” He beamed with pride when he said that. “I’m the Captain.”
“Time will tell about that.” I said under my breath.
“What did you say?” He asked me with that stupid menacing sort of humor he had. He thought it was funny to try and scare people. Guys like that were always around growing up. Especially if you grew up skinny like I did. All the jocks always like to pick on the skinny guy. That’s cause they got no heart. Well most of them anyway.
God, did he make me sick. This guy couldn’t be the Captain on a boat in the bathtub as far as I was concerned. All the Captains I knew were way more together than this guy, and he was a pilot. Amazing.
Becoming A Son Page 10