And then there was something more tangible to worry about. Another vessel was approaching quickly from the north. It was moving too fast to be a fishing boat and the big searchlight picking us out of the darkness was too powerful for it to belong to anything but a US Navy patrol boat.

'Who are they?' asked Melba.

"The American Navy, I imagine.'

Even above our twin Chrysler engines I heard Melba swallow. She still looked beautiful, only now she looked worried as well. She turned suddenly and stared at me with wide brown eyes.

'What are we going to do?'

'Nothing,' I said. 'That boat can outrun us and outgun us. The best thing you can do is go below, climb into bed and stay there. I'll handle things up here.'

She shook her head. 'I won't let them arrest me,' she said. 'They'd hand me over to the police and-'

'No one's going to arrest you,' I said, touching her cheek in an effort to reassure her. 'My guess is that they're just going to look us over. So do as I say and we'll be okay.'

I throttled back and put the gear shift in neutral. When I came out of the wheelhouse the blinding searchlight was in my face. I felt like a giant gorilla on a skyscraper with the patrol boat circling me at a distance. I went to the gently pitching stern, had another drink and coolly awaited their pleasure.

A minute passed and then an officer wearing whites came to the starboard side of the gunboat with a bullhorn in his hand.

'We're looking for some sailors,' he said, speaking to me in Spanish. 'They stole a boat from the harbour at Caimanera. A boat like this one.'