The approaching vessel was a 26 foot late 1980’s Bayliner with two adult males. Male no 1. was standing behind a half smashed windshield with one hand on the wheel and the other methodically working the throttle. Male no 2. was laying over the bow, reaching for our port side lifeline. “Closer,” he said. They were both shirtless, decorated with a smattering of faded tattoos and surrounded by junk fishing poles.