Drugs and Death on the High Seas
A Bahamian triangle of smugglers and unwary skippers
A soft warning to the thoughtful skipper on the possibility of hijacking. The U.S. Coast Guard advises owners of yachts cruising in the Bahamas and Caribbean to be very careful about taking on hitchhikers and paid hands. Even a rescue at sea should be approached with caution.
It is an unusual cautionary note in these days of pleasure cruises in the Bahamas and the Caribbean, where the legends of bloodthirsty pirates like Blackbeard and Jean Lafitte survive only in tourist brochures. But the warning, published in the respected Yachtsman's Guide to the Bahamas, is aimed at putting modern skippers on their guard against today's version of piracy: yachtjacking by drug smugglers who use tiny Bahamian cays as bases for shipping cocaine and marijuana from Latin America to South Florida.
Just how many yachts have fallen prey to smugglers is unknown; unless the boats or debris from them turn up, the U.S. Coast Guard lists missing yachts as "overdue pending further developments." But skippers in marinas along the Florida coast are increasingly convinced that many of them are not simply missing. Three incidents in particular have heightened boatowners' apprehensions:
> In the logbook of their 41-ft. sloop Kalia III, Patti Kamerer, 46, recorded "Anchor up!" on April 28 as she and her husband William, 55, left Fort Myers for a six-month "dream cruise" of the Bahamas. It ended on July 25 with another laconic log entry: "Moored at Pipe Cay." Six days later, Illinois State Representative Harry Yourell, 62, and Son Peter, 20, aboard their 25-ft. cabin cruiser, eased up to the Kalia III and made a grisly discovery: in a dinghy bobbing astern lay a bloated body. The yacht was riddled with shotgun pellets, smeared with blood and littered with debris, including Patti's spectacles and bikini bra. Yourell told TIME Midwest Bureau Chief Benjamin W. Gate: "I haven't seen anything as bad since the South Pacific in World War II." Yourell radioed the authorities, who sent a plane to fly over the cay. But by the time the police arrived by boat a day later, the body had apparently slipped into the sea and disappeared. Nassau authorities inexplicably claimed that there never had been a body until Yourell angrily made public his photographs of the scene. Bahamian authorities now acknowledge that a constable aboard the plane spotted the body and that the yacht was a shambles as described by Yourell (though they insist, despite accounts from at least three eyewitnesses, that there were no shotgun holes or embedded pellets in the yacht).
> Retired Armonk, N.Y., Businessman Lester Conrad, 68, and Philadelphia Stockbroker Walter Falconer, 60, set out in calm weather five months ago aboard Conrad's sleek 45-ft. Polymer III from Great Harbor Cay for West Palm Beach, a seven-hour cruise that Conrad had made at least 40 times. The Polymer III has not been seen since. The Coast Guard suspects no foul play, but friends and family of both men note that not only was Conrad an experienced yachtsman, but his boat was equipped with an automatically inflatable lifeboat and S O S radio beacons that would have switched on if the boat had sunk. Smugglers would find the Polymer III especially attractive because of its speed (22 knots), 3,000-mile cruising range and six-ton cargo capacity.
> Thomas Loberg, 63, and Wife Rignor, 62, believe that they and their 47-ft cruiser Rig-n-Tom were nearly lured to disaster near Chub Cay last year by a fake S O S. The radio caller mysteriously requested Rig-n-Tom's position rather than giving his own. A traveling companion, Pat Vaughan, happened to be reading about misleading distress calls in The Island, Peter Benchley's fictional account of modern Bahamian piracy, and urged Loberg to ask for the caller's position. There was no answer. Five minutes later, a high-powered fishing boat appeared on the horizon and began chasing Rig-n-Tom. The intruder veered away, however, when Loberg put his yacht under the lee of a friendly sailboat.
Such close encounters on the high seas have caused many skittish yachtsmen to arm themselves before sailing in Bahamian waters, despite the authorities' insistence that there is no cause for concern. But there is no denying that the drug trade is booming in the small cays. Says Skip Nichols, 33, a Fort Myers marina operator: "Right where Kalia III was found, I have watched drug transactions with my binoculars." There are so many isolated cays--at least 2,000 among the 700 or so islands in the Bahamas archipelago--that the traffic is difficult to police. But some spots have become notorious among yachtsmen, including Norman Cay, just 30 miles from Pipe Cay. Norman Cay is four miles long and has an airstrip and marina. The key was once a happy watering hole for passing sailors, but it has been declared off limits to them by a new owner. Bahamian authorities raided Norman Cay last January, arrested 30 people and seized an undisclosed quantity of cocaine and marijuana.
Many Florida-based yachtsmen accuse Bahamian authorities of being reluctant to act against the smugglers for fear of jeopardizing tourism. This is denied by Bahamian officials, who insist that the islands remain a peaceful playground for yachtsmen. Still, warns Skip Nichols, "If you're not careful, you can get run over by those high-powered drug boats."
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