By midmorning, we were safely anchored in the busy roadstead of Porlamar. A woman from another cruising boat, Nellie's Ark, stopped by for a chat. "We were boarded by an intruder two nights ago," she said. It's unusual to hear such a tale directly from the victim. Sometimes pirate tales are a bit of an urban myth-always happening to a friend of a friend. But this woman woke up to see a man rummaging through her belongings. Slowly and quietly, she turned over to reach for the pepper spray she kept near her bunk. When she turned back, ready to attack, the man was gone, and-wonder of wonders-nothing had been stolen. Though Peter didn't say anything, his vibes told me that he reckoned the "intruder" was a figment of an imagination fueled, perhaps, by too much rum.