way to tell if anything valuable was missing. From the number of cabins that appeared to have been occupied, the deputies determined at least six people had been aboard the sailboat. But while there were no wallets or billfolds lying about, there were several iPods, TVs, and even a Bose music system still onboard, just the type of thing pirates would normally steal.
The ship’s log, written in a woman’s hand, indicated the sailboat had left South Rocks Cay just after dawn, heading for Miami. This meant it had been adrift for about two and a half hours.
“If this is the Muy Capaz,” one deputy said, “then they’re having themselves a busy Easter morning.”
* * *
AS BEFORE, THE deputies towed the vessel into shallower waters, dropped its anchor and contacted Bimini police. And finally, the deputies were able to do what they had come way out here for: test their boat’s new navigation gear.
But just as they were about to contact their headquarters at West Palm Beach, they received yet another call from the Coast Guard.
A third pleasure boat had been spotted drifting not twenty miles from the deputies’ current position.
Once again, the Coast Guard asked them to check it out.
* * *
THE PRETTY PENNY was sitting dead in the water about twelve miles north of the Bimini Road when the deputies found it. It was a sixty-five-foot Alberta, its engine not turning, its one sail taken down. It was motionless, and the water around it was motionless as well.
By this time the deputies were very weirded out.
Pirate attacks on pleasure boats plying these waters were not unheard of. It happened more often than people thought. It just wasn’t widely reported because everyone involved—like law enforcement and the media—knew the area’s economy would suffer badly if the tourists thought there really were pirates in the Caribbean. Or, at least close to it.
But again, these so-called pirates were usually slovenly drug addicts in boats looking for money so they could cop their next fix.
What was happening this morning seemed to be something different.
The deputies boarded the Pretty Penny and found more of the same. A large, expensive yacht, in perfect condition, with no signs of struggle or conflict—but with no one onboard.
They found all the cabins were in order. They found lots of exotic women’s clothing—bikinis and thongs—neatly folded on several of the bunks. A pot of coffee in the galley’s stove was still warm.
Ominously, up on the bridge they found a man’s watch that had stopped at 0815 hours, approximately the same time as the last entry in the ship’s log, which was a brief comment about the good weather.
By coincidence, the Pretty Penny had come to a stop over a submerged coral reef. The deputies played out the anchor line to fifty feet and dropped it, securing the vessel in place. They made yet another call to the Bimini authorities and then decided they’d had enough strangeness for one morning.
Citing their dwindling fuel supply, they radioed their HQ to say they were returning to West Palm Beach.
* * *
EASTER TURNED COLD and rainy over southeast Florida.
By 2 P.M., Del Ray Beach had emptied out, leaving only a couple of municipal employees working the holiday to get a head start on picking up the half ton of trash the morning’s bathers had left behind.
Using nailed sticks and plastic bags to gather the litter, the two workers made their way up to the north end of the beach where the sandy, flattened-out shoreline became rocky. They knew a place here where they could hide from their boss and smoke a quick couple of joints.
They were just about to light up when they realized a boat had washed up right near their hiding spot. It was a twenty-two-foot outboard with powerful engines and a lot of antennas and wires sticking out of it. The side facing them was caved in, the result of the boat slamming up against the rocks in the incoming tide. There was no one on the boat or anywhere around it.
The workers couldn’t help but investigate, the thought of picking up a few loose items as salvage crossing their minds. But that notion quickly dissipated when they reached the wreck and were able to see the still-intact port side, which had been facing away from them.
Written on the hull was the name of the boat’s owner: the Palm Beach Sheriff’s Department.
The two workers quickly stuffed the joints back into their pockets.