I recently discovered that I’ve married into a family of seafaring pirates.
The Dimitrios Kyriakos started its career as a humble Greek cargo ship in 1938. A few years later it was transformed into a military auxiliary cruiser and then transferred to the German navy in 1942. A year after that it was torpedoed by the The Thunderbolt (a British submarine) and subsequently scuttled in Trapani. After the conclusion of World War II, it was repaired and resurrected as a cargo ship. It served in that role for more than two decades before breaking down off the coast of West Africa. The wreck was then towed to Freetown by the Panamanian freighter Glyfada. It sat there for some time, ignored by its owners as it piled up dock fees, until it was eventually towed into the channel and abandoned.
How long it floated there, anchored in the channel near Freetown, I don’t know… but eventually it was boarded by a daring gang of curious, adventure seeking scoundrels. The ship had obviously suffered earlier raids and was stripped of most valuables, but one of our intrepid adventurers was undeterred. Though the sun was setting and the ship taking on water, he searched and came away with a great prize, several nautical charts of great historic and artistic interest. Loaded with this booty, he and his companions made their escape.
The Dimitrios Kyriakos sank completely that very night.
Years later, I married the pirate’s daughter.