I got a strange letter along with a news clipping in the mail the other day from a friend who works as a journalist in the South Pacific. He asked me not to disclose his name or his location for fear of his life. He wouldn’t even send it by email for fear a violent paramilitary group would trace it back to him. The United Oceanic Press (UOP) originally picked it up and published it. The UOP is an upstart news-gathering organization like the AP, but its distinct advantage over the bigger news organizations is that it does stories that usually go under or unreported by the big boys.
Here’s the story, he filed, without his name, which was printed word for word in the Oceanic Review. Some of his sources wished to remain anonymous, so a few of the details are a little sketchy.
Mutineers Seize Cruise Ship;
Crew set adrift in Banyan Sea
It was supposed to be a normal start to a Sunday morning, on May 9, 2021. The Queen Anon with 701 guests was steaming through the Banyan Sea several hundred miles south of Christmas Island in the Pacific, when the captain, Emmanuel Persepico was awakened by a sharp rap on his cabin door. When he opened it, he was staring at a butcher knife stolen from the galley. With the blade at his throat, he realized his ship had just been hijacked.
When the crew of 400 was mustered on the main deck, the hijackers made it clear they had no interest in money. “Let there be no doubt about it,” a spokesman for the renegades said. “We’re tired of all the bull*** rules on board here. Every time we turn around, someone is telling us what we can and can’t do. We come from a country that is known for its freedom. And, by God, we mean to take it.”
Shocked, Persepico asked them what they objected to.
“You confiscated our guns when we boarded. We’re Americans, and we have a right to carry guns anywhere we please. You have no right to strip us of our weapons. Without our guns, we’re just powerless wimps.”
“Surely, you understand the need to have that rule on this ship,” Persepico said.
‘Another thing we’re tired of, Cap,” a scrawny man with a bald head and a tuft of hair wagging on the edge of his chin said. “These damn smoking rules. We should be able to light up anywhere we want. You keep telling us we can’t smoke in our rooms or our balconies. You even prohibit it in all the dining rooms. There’s nothing like a smoke when we’re finished eatin’.”
A short waddle of a man suddenly interjected. “And I’m tired of all this hand sanitizing. Everywhere I go, your people are shoving that stuff into my hand like a got some kind of disease.”
A big, pot-bellied man who pushed his way to the front of the mob ranted incoherently. for several minutes while shaking his fist in the face of Chief Engineer Dominic Carluccio. “You think you’re God Almighty, don’t cha! Ever since we got on the ship all ya do is throw yer weight around. It began with that mustard thing. I don’t why the hell ya call it mustard anyway. We was all sitting around enjoying our burgers and hot dogs and suddenly ya close the restaurant and bar for mustard. Then ya make us go to some deck and watch some idiot put on a life jacket. What the hell is that all about? Ya think any of us are gonna bother with that stuff if this ship starts to sink?”
“And what’s with this nonsense about not allowing booze or drugs on board? We came to have a good time, and your crew seems intent on keeping us from having it.”
“That’s not even half of it,” a woman with tattoos on her neck shouted. “You have these ridiculous rules about being back on ship an hour before leaving port. Do you realize half of us are in bars drinking and don’t want to be interrupted? There’s no reason in the world you couldn’t leave port two hours later.”
“We’re obligated to be out of port by a certain hour,” Persepico explained, but his voice was drowned out by boos and catcalls from the increasingly hostile mob. Suddenly, someone threw a deck chair at Persepico, and he began bleeding from the temple.
An hour and a half later, Staff Captain Enrico Baez, the Queen Anon’s second in command, presented Capt. Persepico with a list of the mutineers’ demands.
“We’ll look into each of these complaints,” Persepico said.
Suddenly, the mutineers rushed the crew and forced them into three tenders that had been launched an hour earlier. Then one mutineer who appeared to be the spokesperson for the mob shouted, “We don’t need you or your crew. We’re letting you go. And don’t forget to wash your hands every time you turn around.”
By late morning, the Queen Anon disappeared on the horizon, and the first mates of the tenders discovered the computer, radio, and ship guidance systems had been either smashed or disabled.
On May 12, the Essex was steaming through the Hopning Sea when it came across an unexpected sight. Off her port bow were three tenders bobbing helplessly in rough seas. When she closed in, the ship’s captain, Ernest Sizemore, realized they were from a cruise ship. The Essex safely removed four hundred crew members from the Queen Anon. Also taken onboard were 75 passengers who refused to join the mutineers. A skeleton crew of five crew members remained behind to man the tenders.
The local coast guard sent four launches to bring the tenders into nearby Singhi where the Essex also docked. There officers from both ships filed an incident report and remained in port overnight.
Early May 13, the Singhi coast guard responded to an SOS call in the Dang Badd Strait. When they arrived, they found a cruise ship grounded on a hidden reef three-quarters submerged. Billowing smoke and flames from the fore of the ship and numerous cabins midship made a direct approach dangerous because of the winds.
By the time coast guard vessels could get close enough to execute a rescue the Queen Anon was engulfed in flames. Chief Olick of the local coast guard, overseeing the rescue, confirmed the name on the ship’s bow. It was the Queen Anon.
Three Navy helicopters were called in to drop water on the burning ship but were unable to do little more than prevent the fire from spreading to nearby fishing vessels.
When officials finally boarded the ship, little more than a burned-out hull remained. Piles of half-burned life jackets were found on the top deck. Investigators were particularly troubled by bullet holes throughout the ship, indicating a brutal fire-fight had taken place between passengers.
Boarding officers were astonished to find one survivor hidden in a linen room behind a stack of boxes containing bottles of hand sanitizers. A preliminary report, based on his testimony, indicated a drunken revelry had taken place with passengers consuming all alcohol onboard. Several passengers had broken into a secure area and obtained weapons. A violent argument broke out when efforts to steer the ship away from the reefs failed.
The sole survivor also reported seeing smoke billowing from several staterooms where passengers had been smoking. With the ship firmly stuck on the reef, panicking passengers began jumping into the water. None of the recovered bodies were wearing life jackets. He also affirmed in a sworn statement that he heard sporadic sounds of gunfire throughout the ship till it grew into a steady barrage.
Coast Guard authorities are holding the man for further questioning.
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It’s an incredible story, certainly a cautionary tale for travelers and crews of cruise ships around the world. Mostly, I can’t help but wonder why intelligent men and women equate freedom with anarchy and the chaos, misery and death which inevitably follows. Personally, I think the obsession with freedom on land or sea without respect for laws is dangerous, narcisstic, idiotic, and irresponsible. I’ll say this for the passengers of the Queen Anon. They got what they wished for. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer bunch of people.
Welcome to the World of Mariners, Pirates, and the Eternal Sea 