H2uh0

12000 nm into the circumnavigation, four years on the journey, 36 hours in Colombia, and the bubble burst.

It was dark moon, just before midnight, March 27. The sound of a boat's wake hitting our steel hull stirred me. "They're here!" I woke Chris.

"Who's here?" he asked.

"The freaking welcoming party!" I shouted. He jumped up to close the hatch, and saw the first of six armed men board MALAIKA.

Earlier that night I had insisted that we lock the companion way, which can only be done from outside, and so Chris climbed into the cabin through the hatch, which was left ajar, but secured.

Both hatches have bulletproof glass portholes, and so we could see them trying to smash the glass with their guns. They had not brought tools with them, as they expected the companion way to be open, like the other 3 boats pirated earlier this year.

"Chris," they shouted, "Open the door, it's the police!"

We looked at each other. "They know us." We can count the people we know here on one hand.

With only a little flash light, they stumbled around and yelled at us to put the lights on. Chris quickly disconnected the batteries. They tried unsuccessfully to break the lock.

"MAYDAY! MAYDAY!" I wasted precious minutes in vain. They heard my call and cut the SSB aerial.

The lock would not budge and so they chopped around it. The hatch is hard teak and it took them over an hour to gain entry.

The entire duration I was calling for help on the radios. I was answered on the VHF ch 16 by the Colombian Coast Guard, who asked me to confirm our position as Pt. Hermosa, Puerto Velero.

Never to be heard from again, or ever seen.

The guys outside were getting frustrated, and so with two of them on each side of the hatch, they tried to lift it open. After enough prying they managed to lift it slightly, but Chris was able to deploy a can of pepper spray into three of their faces. He also continued to hang on the inside of the hatch, holding it down. The pirates never worked out that the hatch slides back and doesn't lift up to open. That is what saved us.

Once the lock was chopped free, they pulled out the first and second wash boards--the third always sticks. With the hatch closed overhead, the entry was too small to walk through and would have required them to crawl. It was safer for them to call us out one at a time, rather than them come inside, as they did not know what else we had to arm ourselves with.

When it became evident that they were going to gain entry, the panic that had seized us earlier evaporated. A calm overcame us and everything slowed down. It felt like my ears were blocked and my thoughts echoed in my head. We could die tonight, but that's O.K. I have had a few good innings and this is as good a time as any. With that Chris took my hand and said, "When the door opens we get out!!! And you get into the water, ASAP. Don't stop to chat, straight in the water, and I will follow."

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