We were traveling on the Interisland Ferry over to Wellington the other day. It was pitch black and I got bored. Hence the blog entry.

The Privateer

The Black water churned as the ferry steamed along through the dark overcast night, brightly illuminated in contrast to the nearly starless sky. A lonely moth, lost in the middle of a vast ocean, and being drawn to the light, finds refuge on the deck, under the salty mist whilst the bright spotlight shone down around. The spots, shining brilliantly like a light saber piercing the inky blackness, searching for obstacles - ghostly white icebergs, wayward fishing vessels, submerged reefs, or other objects that would be detrimental to the whole ship's safety record. 21 years without so much as a stubbed toe, the Arahura was the pride of the "Interisland" line.

"Rise to periscope level" said the captain calmly, commanding a respect that wasn't developed by shouting. It was a good time to be a privateer, - a modern day Sir Francis Drake. Good crew were easily acquired with enough moolah to silence the conscience - his financier had plenty of that. Obtaining "equipment" was a little harder, but then, that's what bribery was invented for......

Slowly, the great steel husk named "AH12" in it's previous incarnation, began to surface. Stopping a few meters short of breaking the surface, the now renamed "pomegranate" - a nuclear "capable" submarine, surplus from the cold war spotted her target...