Hell Is Above Us: The Epic Race to the Top of Fumu, the World's Tallest Mountain by Jonathan Bloom (bookreader TXT) 📗

cruiser by posing as a fishing trawler when they were, in fact, a stolen British naval trawler. The U.S.S. Stamford approached the smaller boat with the intent of boarding and confirming the hold contained nothing but fish. When the Stamford was within a quarter mile of the mysterious vessel, the “fishermen” fired a series of 4-inch guns concealed under heaps of nets and lines. They destroyed the cruiser’s radio antennae first so no military backup would arrive for some time. The two boats closed their distance. The pirates took this opportunity to wipe out every man on the Stamford’s deck in a barrage of gunfire, boarded in less than one minute, tied up the remaining sailors, and took the United States for hundreds of thousands of dollars in weaponry. After ensuring the surviving sailors were safely on life boats, far from the burning, sinking wreckage of the Stamford, the pirates chugged away into the South Atlantic night.

Landing in Bermuda (but steering well clear of the American bases located on British soil), the pirates went to their favorite local haunt, “The Bloviated Mule,” which was unknown to almost anyone other than the locals and a few American tourists who liked to wander from the main town of Hamilton. The pirates probably toasted everything from their fresh victory at sea to little girls (the captain’s preference) to Burma, their homeland. These men were far from their country of origin, but such was the nature of their businesses. The war had provided them with more opportunities than just pirating. They smuggled weapons for Southeast Asian governments and freedom fighters alike. They did privateer work for China, attacking Japanese destroyers in the South Pacific. Business was so good and their reputation so brutal and efficient, they began to take on work further abroad. Sensing the United States’ coming involvement in the war, the Axis Powershad started to pay pirates handsomely – these pirates included - for simply creeping up on American naval ships and reeking havoc. Tonight’s marauding had been just one example of the tactics they used on the current mission.

The captain’s name wasThan, but no one was allowed to call him that. To remark that Thanwas a fan of the United States and its popular culture would be an understatement. His favorite reading material was Hollywood gossip magazines he stole off of other ships. He traded weapons and other booty for canisters of gangster films and then watched them with his own projector whenever docked at a port with an electrical outlet. So deep was his infatuation with all things American he demanded his crew call him Gary Cooper. And it was this same obsession that led him to rename his boat several years earlier from Eidolon Yacht (a Whitman poem) to Souls at Sea, a Gary Cooper film from 1937.

The Burmese pirate Gary Cooper had been coming to Bermuda and the Bloviated Mule for over a decade. Even before the war, back when he mostly pirated in the South Pacific, Cooper would take “holidays” to Bermuda in order to be closer to the nation he worshipped so much. In Bermuda, he was close enough to feel America’s cultural pull, but far enough away to minimize the odds of capture or death. He had never been to the United States, nor did he expect to ever get there. For hours he would sit on the docks on the western side of the island and stare longingly at the horizon, dreaming of President Roosevelt in a wheelchair made of pure gold, spoon-feeding caviar to Fay Wray while she took a champagne bath. Both of them were making the “come here” gesture with their index fingers. Cooper would then sigh, get up, and amble slowly back to the bar to continue his drinking, fighting and raping.

On May 18th, 1941, Cooper was approached by another salty patron of the Bloviated Mule by the name of Kevin O’Neil. He was a captain of a vessel out of Boston illegally shipping goods to the mainland from Bermuda and the Caribbean Islands. The Hawley-Smoot Tariff had stopped all such importing in the 1930’s, but O’Neil knew no other life and so he continued. Quietly. That night, O’Neil sauntered over to Cooper and handed him a letter. He had intended to give it to the bartender for safe keeping should the paths of the two captains not intersect, but luck would have it otherwise. The letter O’Neil passed along was from a friend of O’Neil’s named Aaron Junk. Cooper spoke perfect English, but could not read it. This led to O’Neil reciting the letter to Cooper.

In the letter, Junk remembered Cooper fondly from the Nanda Devi expedition. “You were a gentleman, even when you were stealing my beloved 1903 Victrola and the crew’s prized pornographic photographs. I regard you highly and consider you someone I can bring into my trust.” The letter went on to offer Cooper four hundred thousand dollars to sail Junk, five other individuals, and almost one ton of mountain climbing equipment from Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts to Calcutta and then back again in early December. Payment would be made in two installments; half at the beginning of the journey and the other half when Junk and team were standing safely on United States soil. “We expect to be picked up on the southeastern most point of Chappaquiddick on the evening of May 22 one hour after sunset.”

Cooper had intended to track down and loot more American warships over the next few weeks, but that could wait. Germany and Italy were not paying him or his crew enough to pass up this offer. They had four days to go a long distance. Cooper gathered his men and set sail immediately.

O’Neil had phoned ahead to let Junk know Cooper was in. Now Junk waited on South Beach on the island of Martha’s Vineyard at the specified time. Although not his usual temperament, Junk must have felt deep apprehension. He was almost broke for the first time since