My story starts on the 4th day of February, 1987. From memory, I painted
the rustic home depicted in this book. I shared this home with my two
most cherished companions and various creatures. Sheldon- my young
girlfriend and lover, best friend and confidante- hails originally from
Southern California. Norman, our beautiful golden retriever, is a native
of Florida. He has shared much of the adventure that I am about to
relate. Our creature friends consist of what you might expect to find in
a tropical rainforest. We co-exist quite nicely.
Our secluded home is located on the primitive Caribbean coast of Panama.
We have lived here approximately six years. It has all of the amenities
that you would find in a tropical paradise including a pristine white
sand beach and a blue lagoon fringed with coconut palms the trade winds
It’s mid-morning. What few chores I am responsible for have long been
completed. I am lounging in my hammock on the porch, enjoying a cup of
robust Panamanian coffee. I am trying to decide whether I want to go
snorkeling this morning or wait until later in the day. We have a
barrier reef on the outer edge of the crystal clear lagoon that our home
has been constructed in; the home sitting on stilts a few feet offshore.
Sheldon is off somewhere- likely working in her garden in a different
section of our property. Our homestead comprises about ten hectares,
which translates to twenty five acres more or less. It is a peninsula
with a three hundred foot high ridge running through it, mostly covered
with dense jungle. There is an isthmus on the peninsula with a low spot
in the ridge. Little vegetation grows here due to the constant trade
winds gusting and carrying salt spray from crashing waves on the seaward
side of the peninsula. It was in this area that Sheldon, on her way back
to our little home, reported seeing some men at the top of the isthmus.
She said it looked as if some of them were armed. I was shocked to hear
this- because to see anyone on our property, except our native
neighbors, was akin to seeing aliens.
It took me about two minutes to reach the area where I had a clear view
of the isthmus. I had to traverse the face of a steep cliff behind our
home on a narrow path we had excavated to access our beach and other
flat sections of the property. Our garden guest house, water wells and
other structures were all located in this area.
Now I was confused-not being able to see a soul, but knowing that
Sheldon was not playing some kind of practical joke on me. This is not
her nature, and there was no doubt about the seriousness of her report.
It was the next moment that I heard the sound of an outboard motor
coming around the point of the peninsula. Not one- but two native
Cayucos appeared. These are long slender boats carved out of large
trees. Each boat was carrying about eight people that looked like
natives dressed in street clothing.
This further confused me, because even though we have been visited on
rare occasion by native friends- there had never been more than four or
five show up at one time. As the boats negotiated a tricky channel
through the reef surrounding our lagoon, I stood on our beach surveying
the situation. By now they were close enough where I could see them
clearly. I was unable to recognize anyone that I knew.
The next moment I received the surprise of my life. As the boats reached
the shore, every person onboard stood up with some type of weapon
pointed at me. They were screaming in English and Spanish for me to lie
down on the beach. About that time, the men that Sheldon had seen came
running down the isthmus, armed to the teeth. Some surrounded me- others
went off in different directions.
One, who appeared to be the leader of the raid- and who looked and acted
like an American- handcuffed me. He took out a photo- glanced at it and
looked at me hard- saying that I was the one they were looking for. He
identified himself as a special agent for the Drug Enforcement
Administration, and advised me that I was under arrest. He informed me
that I had been indicted in the United States in 1981 for drug related
crimes along with my Colombian friend Carlos. I was told that he had
been captured two days earlier in Colombia. Sheldon and I were to be
returned to the states, where I would be prosecuted. I was also informed
that they had known where I was living for a year and a half, and they
didn’t bother with me until they captured Carlos, whom he referred to
as the “Kingpin” of an organization he called the Medellin Cartel.
Excerpted from "Buccaneer" by MayCay Beeler. Copyright © 2014 by MayCay Beeler. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
MayCay Beeler is a spirited vivacious American aviatrix, record breaking pilot, award-winning television personality, multi award-winning Amazon #1 Bestselling author, veteran TV host/producer/journalist, spokesperson, and active FAA Chief Flight Instructor with a passion for all things flying.
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