take that risk with the wrong ship as there was a chance a warning might be sent to the coastguard about two unidentified small boats in the area. Crews were more aware these days as piracy was on the increase, and also because of the new United Nations-led international ship security codes implemented since the September Eleven attack. But then again it was extremely rare in these waters and part of the reason Abed and his men were here. They were going to carry out a waterborne version of the 9/11 attack by bringing the fight into the enemy’s front yard.
The men came out from under their ponchos, all dressed in the same black one-piece combat suits, each with a dagger attached to a belt at his waist and a scimitar strapped across his back. Everyone looked towards the vessel as it drew closer, and the bright yellow-and-white blur, like a fat, sparkling Christmas tree, began to take shape as individual lights became discernible. It was clearly a supertanker. The largest mass of lights was in the stern; this was the five-storey tall superstructure containing accommodation, galleys, messes, hospital, control rooms and bridge. A thin line of lights from the superstructure outlined the long uninterrupted deck, as wide as a runway, and led to smaller clusters of lights in the bows which were the anchor and cable winch houses and entrance to the bosun’s locker.
‘Start the engines,’Abed said.‘Head towards its track.’
The men responded like a well-oiled machine and took their positions along the gunwales as the engines clattered into life.The lines connecting the two boats were untied and the coxswains gradually increased power and picked up speed. As they headed into the swell, the boats rose over the peaks and dropped down into the troughs in a big-dipper fashion with the occasional larger wave breaking over the bows to drench the men. At no time were they concerned about capsizing because they had practised the procedure many times, at night and in harsher conditions in preparation for these notorious waters. Abed was grateful for the heavy seas because it would be almost impossible for the tanker’s radar scanner to pick out the small wooden boats. Furthermore, a tanker’s primary fear in the English Channel was running into another ship large enough to cause damage, so all attention on the bridge would be focused on that major concern. The harsh weather would also deter crewmembers from stepping outside where they might look out at the water, though even if they did, it would be near impossible to see anything in the blackness from within the glow of the bright lights that enveloped the ship.
‘Stay on this heading,’ Abed said to the coxswain sitting astride his saddle-seat beside him, one hand on the steering wheel, the other gripping the throttle.The other boat maintained a parallel course metres away.
Abed looked through his binoculars and could now make out the funnel markings, a white star on a blue background. The superstructure was white and the body of the ship was grey, the colours he was expecting.
‘More to the right and speed up a little,’ Abed said. Timing was essential and once in position they would have only minutes to make any adjustments before the next phase.
The coxswains obeyed and the boats speeded up, loping over the waves as the men crouched, hanging on to the sides. Each man rehearsed his individual tasks in his mind, things they had practised endlessly until they had become instinctive. No one considered the tanker’s crew to be a serious threat since the carriage of arms on board was not permitted. The captain was English, the chief engineer Russian, the first officer Egyptian, the other seven officers a mixture of Croatian, English and Scandinavian and the seventeen-man crew Philippine. These men were not a threat physically: a handful might use the limited workout facilities on board the tanker but would be nothing compared to the combat readiness of Abed’s men. The chief concern was getting on to the main deck and moving into position to carry out the assault without being seen. If this was not achieved, surprise would be lost, and the crew was not entirely without some forms of defence. The ship had high-pressure fire hoses which crews had used in the past to repel would-be boarders. During normal ship’s routine few of the doors on the deck and superstructure were locked because of the fire risk since the greatest concern for an oil tanker’s crew was its ability to escape quickly in case of such an event. However, if the crew suspected an attack was imminent they could batten down the hatches, making it very difficult to gain entry, and Abed’s men had not brought any special equipment with them for forcing steel doors.
Abed’s eyes never left the tanker, gauging the distance and angle to its bows. As they drew closer to the ship’s projected track, the lights on the superstructure narrowed and it took on a broader and more uniform shape as it squared to Abed’s position.
‘All stop,’ he said to Ibrahim.
‘All stop,’ Ibrahim called out so that both boats could hear. ‘Connect up,’ he then said as they slowed.
The coxswains played the engines in and out of reverse to slow the boats and manoeuvred them around so they were facing each other, nose to nose. Two large boxes, one in the prow of each boat, were opened and the ends of strong nylon lines, laid neatly inside so that they would not tangle when fed, were threaded through heavy metal rings fixed to the point of the bows of each.The ends of both lines were then shackled together, connecting the boats at their noses.
‘Snag line connected!’ came the call.
Abed never ceased assessing the tanker’s track to ensure the bows were on a precise collision course with the boats while everyone waited for his command.
‘Prepare the snag,’ he finally said to Ibrahim.
‘Pull back,’ Ibrahim called out immediately to the coxswains who then gently slipped their gear levers into reverse and slowly revved the engines. Both boats backed away from each other, a potentially dangerous operation because if they went too fast or caught a wave they ran the risk of being swamped. There were no water-draining pumps, and moving in reverse defeated the normal method of draining water through a non-return valve in the stern which utilised forward momentum to suck it out.
As the boats moved apart, the lines from both boxes uncoiled and paid out through the metal rings in the bows. A wave suddenly crashed over the back of Abed’s boat and Ibrahim called out for bailers. The men were already armed with small buckets, waiting for such an incident, and began to scoop up the water and toss it overboard.
The tanker drew relentlessly closer. Abed never took his eyes from it, leaving the running of the boats to Ibrahim who used a walkie-talkie to talk to the other group who were already difficult to see in the blackness, the nylon line connecting them the only indication of their whereabouts.
The tanker’s enormity grew with every passing second. The vastness of the beasts never ceased to amaze Abed even though he had trained on a dozen of them. He had never seen this one before but he knew its every detail.The keel had been laid in Ulsan, Korea in April 1994 and it was launched in October the same year. It was of single hull construction, 332 metres long by 58 wide with the bridge deck 30 metres from the water at full load. It weighed 313,000 tons when carrying its maximum capacity of 2.9 million barrels of crude, putting the keel 22 metres below the water and the main outside deck 11 metres above it. It had a brake horsepower of 31,920, and fully fuelled could travel at a maximum speed of 15 knots for 71 days without stopping.
The man in the bows of Abed’s boat whose job it was to monitor the line as it paid out shouted a warning to the coxswain to stop, but he was too slow. The large bolt attached to the end of the line leapt out of the box and jammed in the rings, as it was designed to do, but not quite so violently. The boat jolted harshly to a stop and several men lost their balance and fell backwards. Abed kept hold of the coxswain’s console to steady himself and kept his eyes fixed on the tanker as Ibrahim chastised the line watcher for his incompetence.
The next awkward part was ensuring the middle of the 200-metre line between the boats was central to the cutting edge of the tanker.
‘Towards us,’ Abed called out quickly to Ibrahim who immediately relayed the order into his walkie- talkie.
Abed’s boat backed up while the other boat shunted forward. The tanker loomed less than half a mile away.
‘Hold,’ shouted Abed, his order echoed by Ibrahim.
The tanker’s bow lights began to reveal more details of the ship.The anchors fixed either side could plainly be seen, and beneath them the tapered scars of grease and rust which ran down the sides to the water. Individual windows and portholes in the superstructure could be made out, some lit, some with blinds half closed, others in darkness, and then the rails that lined the deck became clear.
‘Keep the line tight,’ Ibrahim shouted to the coxswain who touched the revs just enough to pull the boat back and maintain the line on the surface.
The superstructure started to disappear from the point of view of Abed’s boat as the massive bows loomed above to block it out. The side of the tanker became the predominant view, cutting through the water like a vast
