A Captain's Duty

And they specialized in the big targets: tankers, container ships.
    Us.
    The most disturbing news about the pirates actually came from my brother, who’s a Middle East analyst with a conservative think tank down in D.C. He told me that he’d seen reports about Al Qaeda fighters from Pakistan making their way into Somalia and Yemen. That worried me to the nth degree. Al Qaeda is just a whole other ball game. There was actually one bizarre incident I’d heard of where a group of pirates approached a ship in the Strait of Malacca off western Malaysia, threw hooks over the side, and boarded it. They rounded up the crew and stuck them in a room. You would think the next stop would be to demand ransom, but they didn’t. What they wanted to do was learn how to sail the ship. They went down to the engine room and inspected it. They went up tothe bridge and practiced steering the ship. They got on the radio and practiced using the VTS (Vessel Traffic Service), utilizing calling-in points for monitoring a ship’s route. When they’d learned everything they could, they left, taking the manuals from the engine room and the bridge manuals and a list of checkpoints that captains use when they’re maneuvering through heavy traffic.
    It seemed like a dry run for an Al Qaeda operation, a seaborne 9/11.
     
    After I’d read through the security bulletins, I wrote a short e-mail to Andrea. I guess I was feeling a little lonely, because I started with our ongoing search for a dog to replace the dear, departed Frannie.
    Hey Ange—
    No word on the dogs? I actually was thinking of Frannie last night, a tear came to my soul. That dang dog is still bugging me! I need a dog!
    En route to Mombasa, will call around the 11th or 12th of April. Weather is very nice, until the monsoon sets in. The pirates are getting more active lately. They are attacking even naval military ships. I guess a lack of recognition on their parts.
    Love, R.
    I didn’t want her to worry, but I couldn’t pretend the Somalis weren’t out there. Andrea and I were in this thing together. We always had been. Before I left, I’d told her that it was getting more dangerous with the pirates. “Eventually they’re going to take an American ship,” I said.
    “They’re not that stupid,” Andrea said. “They wouldn’t attack one of ours.”
    Deep down in her heart, though, she knew that sort of thing could happen. It’s part of being a merchant mariner’s wife. But somehow she was counting on that American flag to keep me and the crew safe. Who would dare to attack the Stars and Stripes?
    Andrea never lost sleep over my being out there. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she’s always been good at keeping her mind away from that idea. We’ve always been lucky. We’ve worked hard for everything we’ve had and we consider ourselves blessed. I guess she thought that would continue.
    Andrea’s friends always marveled at her, saying, “I don’t know how you do it, being a merchant mariner’s wife.” Her joking response always was “Are you kidding me? Your husband’s away half the time, you get a check every two weeks, what’s not to like?” That always got a lot of laughs. But it’s true that most seamen’s wives are strong, independent women capable of picking up a shovel or a hammer or grabbing a flashlight when the water heater stops working. When I left for sea, I often gave Andrea what she called the “honey-do list”: “Honey, can you make sure to get the oil changed in the car, see that the taxes are paid, get the dryer fixed, et cetera.” In the early days of our marriage, when she was home with two kids in diapers, in the dead of a Vermont winter, Andrea really had to be strong. “There were many times when I felt like the proverbial woman standing on the side of the road with a flat tire,” she’s fond of saying. “You either learned to survive onyour own or you got a divorce and went back to a normal way of life.” Thank God we have terrific neighbors and family who would always be there if Andrea needed anything at all. If a tree fell down on our property, our neighbors would show up with a chainsaw and a tractor.
    Maybe her strength came in her DNA. Andrea’s mom had her own load to carry. Andrea was a teenager when her parents divorced and her mother was left with six kids to support. Andrea’s mom worked full time and then came home to a houseful of rowdy children. Andrea knew how hard it was because a lot of the