A Captain's Duty

boarded, so they had no way to get back aboard. Good enough for me.
    That was what I call my second mistake. For the next four days, I came back to that moment over and over again. I kept thinking, I should have dropped those suckers. If I ever get another shot, I’ll drop them without a second thought .
     
    Back home in Vermont, they didn’t know anything about the hijacking. Andrea had been sick all day Tuesday with a flu bug that had knocked her out. Her mother insisted that her sister Lea come over to take care of her. So that Wednesday morning, Lea was getting ready for work. It was sunny but cold, a typical Vermont March morning.
    Around 7:30 a.m., Lea was heading out to her truck when the phone rang. It was 3:30 p.m. in Somalia, which is eight hours ahead. It was our neighbor, Mike Willard, who lives up the road and works as an engineer in the merchant marine.
    Andrea remembers Mike’s voice was a little odd. “What’s the name of Rich’s ship again?” he said.
    “Why, what just happened?” Andrea said.
    “Andrea, what’s the ship’s name?”
    “The Maersk Alabama .”
    “I think…I think they were just hijacked. I’m coming right up.”
    Andrea couldn’t believe it. She didn’t panic right away, because she knew that sailors get kidnapped regularly and they were all sent back home safe and sound once the ransom was paid. She ran outside to get her sister before she pulled away. Andrea was calling, “Lea, Lea, Rich has been hijacked. Don’t go, don’t go.” Then they both ran into the house and turned on CNN.
    Mike started making phone calls to the company, since he works for the same firm that I do. They were desperately trying to find out if the early reports were true. Meanwhile, Andrea ran to the computer and typed out a quick e-mail to me at 11:29 a.m.
    Richard—
    I am aware of what is going on. I am with you all the way. Keeping the faith…I love you with all my heart.
    LOVE ANDREA.
    I wouldn’t get it until after the ordeal was over.
    Andrea went back to the TV, which was her only source of news at that point. In a twist of fate, a Fox news crew had been up at the Massachusetts Maritime Academy shooting a feature on some totally unrelated subject. It turned out that Shane Murphy’s dad, Joseph, was an instructor there, and when the news came out about the pirates, they rushed to talk to him. Shane had called Joseph Murphy from the Maersk Alabama. Joseph described the hijacking, saying, “My son, the captain…” Andrea was like, “What happened to Rich?” It was upsetting to her to constantly hear news of the hijacking but nothing about me.
    As the morning went on, Andrea called our kids, Dan and Mariah, who were away at college. She wanted them to hear the news from their mother and not from some reporter or something. She left Mariah a message: “I want you to call me. It’s about Dad—he’s okay, as far as I know, but I want you to hear it from me.”
    Andrea ran back to the TV. Shane Murphy was still being called “the captain of the Maersk Alabama, ” and she didn’t hear a single mention of me. For my wife, it was like I’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

THIRTEEN
Day 1, 1900 Hours
    The White House is closely monitoring the apparent hijacking of the U.S.-flagged ship in the Indian Ocean and assessing a course of action to resolve this issue. Our top priority is the personal safety of the crew members onboard.
    —White House statement, April 8, 2009
    I lowered the MOB to the water with myself and the three pirates in it. The davit put us down with a nice smooth touch. I looked up at my ship. Suddenly, it looked like an ocean liner. Just huge.
    “They can still strafe the ship,” I said into the radio. “Keep the guys out of harm’s way.”
    The fuel was still on the deck. Shane’s head popped over the side of the boat.
    “Hey, Cap,” he called.
    “We’re almost there, Shane,” I said. “Start lowering the fuel.”
    The pirates really wanted that extra diesel. They were going to be anxious until it and the Leader were onboard. Iturned to see Tall Guy and Musso sitting on the benches, their guns on their laps, the muzzles pointed toward me.
    Shane disappeared. A minute later, the first bucket appeared over the side of the ship and Shane lowered it. When it was five feet above the water, he let it drop. The bucket plunged beneath the surface and then he pulled it back up, water streaming down the sides.
    I laughed. Great minds think alike.