We dropped anchor in deserted Chacachacare Bay about an hour before sundown. Quiet, peaceful, deserted, just what the doctor ordered after the hubbub of Chaguaramas. I was starting to make dinner when Jack came up from the port hull and told me there’s a pump or a motor trying to run and he can’t find what it is. I followed him down below and listened.
Mmmmmm. Mm-mm.
The shower sump, I thought. It always sounded to me like a fog horn. We opened up the bilge and listened.
Mmmmmm. Mm-mm.
We weren’t sure the sound came directly from the sump but we took off the cover anyway. The switch was stuck and the whole thing needed cleaning which Jack did. That took about a minute and we screwed the lid back on.
Mmmmmm. Mm-mm.
So that wasn’t it. What has changed? We have a new autopilot with some lingering wiring issues and a new Reverso pump on the generator, both of which are in the port hull. We checked both, sticking our heads into the engine compartment and into the forward locker where the generator lives.
Mmmmmm. Mm-mm.
We could hear the sound but just couldn’t quite make out exactly where it was coming from. I had an idea maybe it’s an audible navigation aid. I checked the chart, looking in wider and wider circles for any buoy or marker with a sound signal. None.
Mmmmmm. Mm-mm.
Out on deck we couldn’t hear a thing. It’s definitely in the boat.
“It’s about every minute,” Jack said. I also noticed that sometimes the sound was a little different.
Mmmmmm. Mm-mm-mm.
We scratched our heads, turned off all the circuit breakers in the panel.
Mmmmmm. Mm-mm.
“It’s going to be an annoying night,” I said. “It’s where we sleep.”
We had a beautiful dinner in the cockpit, enjoying life afloat again, watching our changing view as the tide changed. The boat swung about thirty degrees and we noticed that now the sound was coming from the starboard hull.
Mmmmmm. Mm-mm.
Are you kidding me? We played the same game on that side, sticking our heads in the bilge, the engine room, the watermaker hatch, anywhere there are pumps and motors.
Mmmmmm. Mm-mm.
Mmmmmm. Mm-mm-mm.
We accepted defeat and went to bed. Sometime during the night the sound stopped, and sometime during the night my subconscious logged a notion. Morse code. It sounds like Morse code. It’s been twelve years since I learned Morse for my ham license test and I couldn’t remember what da dit-dit was. It can wait until morning.
When I got up I dug out a Morse reference card.
Mmmmmm. Mm-mm.
D. Delta. Keep clear.
Mmmmmm. Mm-mm-mm.
B. Bravo. Dangerous cargo.
Is it possible the ship we saw anchored way off in the distance the night before was emitting the required sound signals that we couldn’t hear with our ears but that were transmitted through our hull? Has anyone else had this experience?
And if that’s what it was, what was the dangerous cargo on the ship??