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“Not a moment too soon,” Vargas said.
“Captain,” the XO said, “we’ve identified a radar contact heading toward us from the north.”
Jefferson grimaced. That would make backing out even more of a challenge. She raised a pair of binoculars, but the ship had disappeared behind a small island in the middle of the northern channel.
“Fishing boat?”
The XO shook his head. “Far too big for that. I estimate her length at nearly two hundred feet.”
That got a raised eyebrow from Vargas.
“Any idea what she could be?” Jefferson asked her.
Vargas shook her head. “No cargo ship would come this way. And we’re far from any ferry lanes.”
“Hail them,” Jefferson ordered.
“Aye, Captain.” The XO spoke into the radio. “Unidentified ship to the north, this is the NUMA vessel Deepwater. Please respond.”
After a moment, a voice came over the loudspeakers in accented English. But the accent sounded Russian, not Spanish. “This is the Chilean Navy ship Abtao. Shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded for inspection.”
Jefferson gaped at Vargas, astonished by the command. She took the mic from the XO.
“Abtao, this is Captain Rashonda Jefferson of the Deepwater. We have authorization from the Chilean government to conduct a research mission here. For what purpose do you want to board us?”
The Abtao emerged from behind the island, and Jefferson could see a 76mm gun on her foredeck. It was aimed directly at them. Men were manning two 20mm Oerlikon cannons that were also pointed in the direction of the Deepwater.
“Deepwater, we have reports of smugglers operating in this area. As you must be aware, the Chilean Navy has the absolute right to inspect any vessel operating in Chilean waters.”
The Abtao came to a stop in front of the mid-channel island next to a glacier that ended at the water’s edge. It was at point-blank range, bristling with menace.
Jefferson turned to Vargas. “What is going on here?”
“I have no idea. The Coast Guard should be in charge of stopping ships for inspection, not the Navy.”
Jefferson handed her the microphone. “You were in the Coast Guard. Explain that to them.”
Vargas spoke in rapid Spanish.
The response came back in English and ignored whatever Vargas said. “I repeat, prepare to be boarded.”
Vargas shook her head. “I told them who I was and asked them to check with the Coast Guard about our mission. It’s very strange that they didn’t respond in Spanish.” Her brow furrowed and her eyes widened. “Wait a minute. The Abtao isn’t scheduled to go into service for six weeks. I know because her home port is supposed to be Punta Arenas. Something is wrong.”
“New contact, Captain,” the XO said. “Another ship to the north behind the Abtao.”
“A second Navy ship?”
“I don’t know. But it’s much bigger. I’d say five hundred feet long.”
She raised the binoculars again and caught a glimpse of a dilapidated steamer before it, too, disappeared behind the island.
The name on the bow read PORTLAND.
Now she was even more confused. A ship that size in these channels was nearly suicidal. And why was it following the Navy ship?
“This is absolutely absurd,” Jefferson said, snatching the mic back and speaking into it. “Abtao, I’m calling NUMA, and they will contact your government to confirm who we are. We all need to get out of here before that fog covers us.”
She turned to the XO. “Get NUMA headquarters on the line.”
