It would be nice if this was a spoof, but sadly it is not.

We'd left Rodney Bay, St Lucia at 1100 yesterday, aiming to make landfall on the island of St Vincent which is only 50 miles directly south as a stoppover en-route to Bequia which is another 20 miles further south - where we're spending Xmas.

Despite rocking along at 8 knots before solid w'ly trade winds, we did not reach St Vincent until it was getting dark.  It was useful to have a bright - almost full - moon to help guide us in towards the dark mountainous western coast of the island.  The pilot book said there are a number of towships / bays all close to one another on this west coast, and we’d picked one - Wallilabou - as our chosen anchorage. 

Sliding along the coast about 2 miles off, we were initially drawn towards the lights of a couple of other yachts anchored off Chateaubelair Bay.  And then as we passed them, we actually mistook the next location of Cumberland Bay as our destination. 

But realising our mistake, we fringed the rocky coast close in, and turned a mile of so further south into Wallilabou.  We almost ran over a young boat boy in his wooden dingy rowed frantically to intercept us.  No lights meant he popped up almost out of no-where.  He simply wanted to to guide us onto the last available mooring - which he did.

As we settled down in the peace and calm of the north end of Wallilabou Bay, we thought the place looked kind of special.  Jungle and palms right to the waters edge withonly a few ramshackled buildings and what initially looked like some building ruins behind a tumbledown jetty.  It did not only look like the setting for a pirate movie – apparently it was. 

What we were looking at in Wallilabou was the old shore side film set where they made Pirates of the Caribbean.  Sue cooked up some spiced prawns with rice which we ate in the cockpit with all this as a backdrop, and then we hit the sack around 2200.

Just after midnight I was woken by the radio.  ‘Mayday, Mayday, Mayday.  This is yacht Chaquita, yacht Chaquita’  came a English female voice.  She was very clear - so not too far away.  I waited to see if MRCC or coastguard would pick them up, but when she repeated her call, I responded.  

It seems Chaquita was one of the two yachts parked off Chateaubelair that we’d seen the lights of as we passed by.  She was less than 2 miles from where we were, and currently underway and seeking sanctuary. 

They told a horrifying tale of being boarded, attacked, threatened and finally robbed by three guys with machetes, one also waving a gun.

We took all the details to relay should MRCC come on, but in the meantime suggested it might be simpler for them to motor the 2 miles to our location and tie up alongside.  They liked that idea.

As they made thier way here, we then used our recently purchased St Lucian mobile to get hold of the St Vincent police.

Chaquita is a French registered chartered Dufour 385.  The young husband and wife crew – Steve and Katherine Jones from Yorkshire, UK – were half way through a two week charter, and sailing back north to their charter base on Martinique. 

They’d stopped over in Chateaubelair to dive, snorkel, and spend the night, and were asleep in their forecabin when they were boarded around midnight.  Steve challenged the guys from below, who threatened to shoot unless the hatch was unlocked.  When Steve went on deck he bravely tackled the balaclava dressed boarders, and suffered a couple of deep cuts to his head and some cuts to his naked body before being overcome. 

The boarders held a machete to his throat and the gun to his head as they screamed at a semi naked Katherine to give them what money they had.  She handed it all over, but they continued to threatened to kill them unless she produced more. 

Katherines semi nakedness led to other threats, but fortunetely the boarders departed without doing any more harm, taking with them Steves blackberry / phone, and telling Katherine and Steve to get out of the anchorage and only go north.  If they went south, the guys said, they would track them down and kill them.

As we were the only respondent to the mayday call - and as they said afterwards, a welcomed friendly voice with the only offer of help - they motored south towards us anyway.

We lit up Swagman with every available light, and once they'd come round the headland we guided them in to tie up alongside, sharing our mooring. 

We had our bows tied to the buoy, and a long line running back from our stern to a coconut palm on the beach.

We all shared big hugs, then brewed typically English tea whilst Sue cleaned up Steves gashes and they relayed their encounter.  The cuts in Steves scalp will need stitches and are best done by a doctor - but apart from those cuts and bruises, they were very shaken but luckily basically OK.  They were both in shock.  They really did think they were about to die - and I suspect the impact of those thoughts might last with them a while longer. 

The police arrived within 30 minutes in a old but fast RIB with lights flashing as they tied up on our other side.  After listening to the attack details, and checking out what little evidence was left around (cigarette  packet with possible fingerprints), they took Steve and Katherine off on their boat to see a doctor, and promised to return them later in the morning. 

Chaquita was left tied alongside us.  From what we'd been told we suspected these guys were heading south themselves.  Maybe they even lived in Wallilabou?

Not surprisingly at 0330, I’m now a bit too wired to consider sleep. 

So typing this in the cockpit, surrounded by pitiful defensive arms to repell any repeat boarders.  

Big torches to use as batons; an aerosol pump spray filled with bleach as my own 'gun'; old rocket flares to fire at anything that threatened us; gas airhorns to wake the dead; and my 1000,000 lumen searchlight able to blind the world. 

So sad eh? 

One minute Steve and Katherine were having a holiday of a lifetime – the next this horror story where they truly thought they were going to loose thier lives.

I’ll update you all once they return from the doctors, but in the meantime, it’s back to my sentry duties whilst Sue gets some shut eye.

And its not suprising how unwelcoming the film set shore side of St Vincent is now looking.

Cheers

JOHN