Photo:
MV Aurora (name changed for legal reasons)
At first, I didn't really know what to make of it. The captain of the rather large US flagged, private super yacht glared at me from ship's bridge and dropped anchor a little more than a hundred metres from where
Sänna was now anchored. Because of their length, which I guessed was something well over a hundred feet, we were both easily within swinging distance of each other, especially with the long lay of chain he seemed to be running out. I was perplexed... the extensive anchorage tucked behind Shearwater Island, where I'd been sitting on the hook a short distance from the marina entrance for nearly ten days waiting for Marie to return from England with Henry, was pretty much empty. Except for Thomas and Silvia onboard the German catamaran
Thosyma and one other yacht a good distance away there was acres of space... why was this guy now anchoring so close? Then the logical side of my brain suddenly clicked and I calmly decided I wasn't much bothered. If we collided whilst at anchor then the liability under Maritime Law would be his and their insurance would be far more comprehensive than ours... and our faithful, battered
Sänna desperately needed a new paint job.
Around an or so later the Captain of
Aurora (name since changed for legal reasons) sped the ridiculously short distance between us in his fast launch... which was itself nearly a third of the length of
Sänna. I noted he was dressed in nice clean uniform whites with epaulets of rank proudly displayed on his shoulders. At this stage I confess my unease with my own rugged appearance... in terms of both of us being professional skippers we were on entirely different planets. He slowed, cut his engine and I took his line across our stern.
"Good morning my friend," he greeted me in some vaguely familiar southern Yankee accent. "You British?" he asked, eying our red ensign fluttering in the warm breeze. Well, he was friendly enough if nothing else.
"English actually," I replied cautiously, "the meaning 'British' has for the last five hundred years included the Scots, but not for much longer it seems," I tied off his line so he wouldn't drift away. I was intrigued to know the purpose of his visit.
"Independence from you Brits hasn't done us much harm," he laughed, his gaze shifting as he weighed
Sänna up. It's something every seafarer does naturally without even thinking. All vessels have their own way of going about their business and most knowledgeable sailors wish to know how. This guy also knew about the Scottish indepedance vote, which surprised me.
"All of our former colonies seem to be doing well for themselves," I replied trying to keep the conversation light hearted. "I'm Dave," I said, introducing myself.
"Nice to meet you Dave, I'm Ryan." He paused to see if I would invite him onboard, protocol being that I should really but I wasn't in the best of moods; he quickly realised he was going to have to work much harder. "I can see your boat is a real seagoing vessel, you sailed all the way?"
For the next five minutes or so we talked about our long voyage eastwards from the Mediterranean; he was genuinely impressed but I was keen to know the purpose of his visit before we got to any sort of friendly level. This obviously wasn't a social call and I guessed I wasn't about to be invited to some late evening party aboard a luxury super yacht crewed by good looking girls sporting fine white teeth who'd dance till dawn whilst I drank expensive champagne. I was right.
"Look," this unashamedly young captain of
Aurora said, "we're anchored too close together and we could have a big problem when the tide in here changes," he paused nervously... "Could you move and anchor a little further away?"
Well, instantly I was cross. "Surely you realise you shouldn't have anchored right there so close when you came in. You've deliberately endangered both vessels." I was impressed by how I remained calm, normally I'd have been off my rocker with rage and old man's indignation. Of course, I'd suspected something was afoot, this guy was an experienced captain; he must know about anchoring protocol and the subtleties of maritime law? Every boat owner and skipper knows that whereabouts you drop your hook can be an emotive issue. I found myself thinking of what Marie would do if she was here now and then quickly realised she would already have been onboard
Aurora arguing our case... mainly to get to look around their boat.
"It's you that should pull up your anchor Ryan," I said.
"I realise that, but the owner, who's onboard, he specifically instructed me to anchor there at that location," he replied. "He now wants you to move."
"Why?" I asked, envisaging our newly painted hull sparking in the sunshine with the super-rich American owner of
Aurora eagerly handing over his cheque.
He paused as if cautiously considering his reply. "Well, the owner has important guests arriving this evening and he wants to be close to the marina to ensure they only have a short boat ride from the shore."
"I'm within my rights to request you to move your vessel Ryan, you know that." I told him, dismayed. This was preposterous. "I can contact the harbourmaster to formally record that my vessel is in danger."
"Yes, I realise."
"Then why should I pull up my anchor and move?"
"It would sure make my life easier if you would Dave," he answered, "this guy, my boss, he's a real prick and I'm really sorry about all of this. I don't like asking you but my hands are tied. My job is everyday on the line."
I listened and saw that Ryan, embarrassed, was genuinely unsure what to do. I thought for a few moments, thinking of all the problems we'd had in the past with these big moneyed super yachts which were always superbly polished and clean. I could see the crew of
Aurora were already hard at the task. The crews of these vessels were usually friendly enough and, in the main, very professional. We'd often drunk late into the night with them in various exotic locations swapping sea stories but we'd never actually been invited back onboard as would be the case with many sailing yachts. I also knew these crews had little respect for their usually overbearing owners who often treated them with disdain. Although we were now in Canadian waters we were increasingly encountering these vessels daily, more often flying the American flag which was undoubtedly a reflection on the unbounded wealth that exists in the United States. I thought about how I should reply to their unseeming request.
"Do you know something Ryan? I'm gonna refuse. If we swing and collide during the night and your guests are ruffled, then that's fine by me. I'll claim for damage and then we'll see what happens."
"Sure, but my boss owns the biggest law firm in America Dave. Top office is based in Seattle. You'll sure need hell-of-a-lotta bucks to take him on Dave. Trust me, I know him, he'd fight you all the way," Ryan seemed rather too assured.
I thought for a moment. I briefly considered my chances against an exceptionally powerful lawyer in the most litigious country in the world. My prospects didn't seem all that good but, hey, what the hell...
"Look, you tell Mr Biggest Lawyer in America that I'm English and soon, in about a month in fact, I will be in his country to reclaim our former colony for the English crown," my calm composure disappeared and I was now on a ridiculous rant, one of my favourites if truth be told. It was a subject that always wound up former colonials when the need arose, "your President is gonna need a good lawyer." I untied his line from
Sänna's stern and abruptly passed it back. "In the meantime you tell your boss to go and stuff."
"OK, Dave, I'll tell him just that." Ryan replied with some obvious trepidation, "Have a nice day Dave." He started his engine and then sped back the short distance to
Aurora which had already drifted ominously close. I stood there pondering exactly what to do next knowing nothing had been resolved. I'd already decided not to call the harbourmaster because I knew full well he never answered the VHF and the
Aurora would overhear my increasingly frantic calls with amusement....
Later that evening I stepped aboard
Aurora as an invited guest, dressed in my finest white shirt and tie. I didn't take my freshly pressed suit jacket because it was a gloriously warm night and I decided I wouldn't need it. I was greeted by two gorgeously young girls with unbelievably perfect smiles, their amazing white teeth sparking in the moonlight. I met my host, the friendliest lawyer you could ever wish to meet and we became great friends. I danced till dawn with my two companions who fought each other frantically through the evening for my affections and I had to reluctantly decide which of the two would be my 'special one'. The fine wine and champagne flowed with the best food I'd eaten since, well, since Marie cooked my favourite noodles. I had an amazing evening and finally stumbled back aboard
Sänna in the early morning, hoping to God that our friends Thomas and Silvia onboard
Thosyma hadn't noticed my illicit night of fabulous bliss onboard the finest private motor yacht you ever saw.
Of course, none of this actually happened. Truth be told, in the middle of the night I couldn't sleep because I kept waking, thinking we'd both swung in the rampant tide until both vessels were only feet apart. We hadn't, nowhere near in fact... but I got myself up anyway and dressed to pull up
Sänna's anchor in the dead of night by the light of my head torch. I started the engine and moved a couple of hundred feet.
Neither did I ever get around to reclaiming America on behalf of the Queen of England. There seemed little point really. The next morning I heard over our SSB long range radio the Scots had voted to stay in the union and so we were once again the 'United Kingdom'. I would be forever British and the ever rebellious Scots would still get their free university educations and elderly health care at our own English expense. But, to my lasting pleasure, Edward Longshanks always did get the better of Mel Gibson.
It's a mighty cruel world sitting there on anchor.
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