A Captain's Duty

Musso. He had an AK-47 slung around his shoulder and a bandolier of ammunition. He looked like he was ready to face down Rambo. He was limping; apparently, he’d injured his foot climbing up the ladder. There was the other bandit I came to know as Young Guy, just because he looked like he was a college student. But with his Charles Manson eyes, he would turn out to be one of the more sadistic of the pirates. And there was the other Tall Guy, who never made much of an impression on me. There was no question who was in charge—the first pirate on-board, the Leader, gave the orders and the others obeyed them.
    The three older pirates were probably between twenty-two and twenty-eight. Young Guy was no older than twenty-two, I would say. Between them, they had two AKs and several bandoliers of bullets. They also had what looked like a 9mm pistol, with a rope or lanyard hanging from the butt, and as I looked at it, I thought I saw a U.S. Navy insignia on the gun. What the hell were they doing with a navy sidearm ?
    That question would come back to haunt me later.
    The pirates took up positions on the bridge. I could tell they had some experience. The Leader stayed with us. Tall Guy went to the starboard bridge wing, Young Guy went to the flying bridge, and Musso went to the port bridge wing. They told ATM and the third mate to sit on the deck, starboard side. Meanwhile, I was at the console, silencing alarms, because they were still going off continuously, whoop whoop whoop and ding ding ding . It sounded like a war had broken out and it just added to the stress.
    The Leader gestured to me. “These guys are crazy,” he said. “They’re Somali pirates. I’m just interpreter.”
    I looked at him, like, You can’t be serious. The good cop, bad cop routine? Really?
    “Dangerous guys,” the Leader shouted. “They will kill you. They’re crazy!”
    No shit, I thought. They looked dangerous. My heart was racing with adrenaline and fear.
    But the Leader’s approach was very smart, I thought. He wanted us to trust him, and what better way of doing that than making himself our only salvation against the rampaging pirates?
    “Call the crew,” the Leader said. I knew this was coming. The more hostages, the more leverage the pirates would have with Maersk. They wanted all hands on the bridge to prevent anyone from braining them with a wrench or garroting themwhile they slept. But I’d be damned if I was going to give them any of my men. In fact, my plan was to get Colin and ATM out of harm’s way as quickly as I could.
    “Okay,” I said, and I picked up the mike on the PA system and the handheld radio. “All crew, all crew, report to the bridge. Pirates want the crew on the bridge, repeat, pirates want the crew on the bridge.”
    Nothing. I prayed that everyone stayed where they were.
    The Leader was yelling at his men, so I keyed my handheld radio. “Four pirates aboard. Two on bridge wings, one on flying bridge, one inside the bridge. Two AKs on the wings, one nine-millimeter in the bridge.”
    The Leader turned and snapped at me.
    “Call them again,” he barked. I repeated the “come to the bridge” message.
    Not a sound from below.
    The bridge was getting uncomfortable. The crew down below hadn’t secured the secondary power supply yet, so most of the emergency lights were on—every third bulb was lit. And the air-conditioning was shut down, so we were beginning to broil up there. A deck is like a greenhouse. It traps heat. I felt the sweat just running down my back.
    I wanted to open some kind of communication with the pirates, besides them barking out orders and me following (or pretending to follow) them. Any hostage training will tell you: don’t appear too confrontational or too meek. Maintain your dignity was a phrase I remembered. If you’re screaming at the boss or whimpering in the corner, you give your captors an extra, personal reason to put a bullet in your head.
    I decided I was just going to be myself. It had worked forme so far in life. I decided to trust my instincts and forget about trying to be the perfect hostage.
    I needed to start a rapport with the pirates. They were very on edge, not wanting us to get close to them. Whenever you approached one, their eyes would get wide and they’d wave at you with the gun.
    I looked over at the Leader. “Can we get these guys some water?”
    He nodded. I motioned to ATM, and he stood up and walked to the water fountain by the port door, watched