A Captain's Duty

didn’t have my glasses, either, so I wouldn’t have been able to read the message even if I had spotted it. I did wonder why they gave me A.1. sauce with fish—I think that’s all they had aboard the ship as far as sauces go—but I quickly dismissed the thought and handed the bottle to the Somalis.
    The Zodiac came back into view. “We’re going to tow you,” one of the navy guys called out.
    “Tow us?” I said. I turned to Tall Guy. “What did you do, did you kill the engine? Is the rudder okay? What did you break now?”
    The pirates quickly agreed to the tow, which was strange. Why would you want your adversaries to control your movement?
    Unbeknownst to me, we were now within twenty miles of the Somali coastline. The navy didn’t want us to land, because the Somalis could have called for reinforcements or tried to sneak me off the boat. But the pirates didn’t want to land either because we’d drifted far from their home port and were nearing land controlled by a rival tribe. They didn’t want to land there because they thought their reception would be a violent one.
    By 5 p.m., we were tied up to the Bainbridge ’s winch that sat on its fantail, a metal line connected to our bow.
    Finally, before they left, the navy handed something to Tall Guy. “Give this to the captain,” they said. He took it, gave it a glance, and handed it to me.
    It was my watch.
    “Where did you get this?” I said. The last time I saw it the Leader had it in his hand.
    “From the pirate,” the navy guy called.
    My mind reeled.
     
    The tension on the boat mounted by the minute. As we were being towed from the Bainbridge ’s stern, we began to hear splashes, then saw black shapes floating by, one after the other.
    “What’s that?” the pirates cried into the radio. “No action, no action.”
    I couldn’t make out what the shapes were, but I had an idea. Merchant ships can’t dispose of plastics on the ocean, but the navy can.
    The navy confirmed it. They told the pirates it was just garbage floating away.
    With the Leader gone, the cohesion among the pirates frayed even more. Tall Guy and Musso turned on Young Guy. Maybe it was the stress or the fact that he didn’t seem to be as gung-ho as they were—that had become clear when they were talking with the navy negotiators. Now they started to bully him.
    “What, do you want to go drink a beer like an American? Do you?”
    “No. I’m Somali.”
    “ We’re Somali sailors, we work around the clock. We don’t stop. You’re like one of those lazy Americans, drinking beer and going to the movies. You want to go to the movies?”
    “Go to hell.”
    “You go to hell, American. We’re here for the mission.”
    And then they called him a nigger. I was shocked.
    “Do you want to be an American? Are you a nigger?”
    The Young Guy shot back at them in Somali and English. All three of them were seething with anger. And they each had a gun within easy reach.
    I fell asleep for a few hours and woke up with a start. The idiots were still arguing.
    “I feel better now,” I said. “But I want to go swimming.” I did want to hit the ocean again. The memory of that cool water had stayed with me.
    To my astonishment, the Somalis began to untie me. My hands were swollen and painful as they undid the ropes, but relief just flowed through my body. They left a loose tangle of ropes around my feet so I couldn’t run and dive out the hatch.
    “Come on, just let me dive in there,” I said. I just wanted to cool off.
    “No, you’re too weak.”
    “I’ll just jump in and jump out.”
    “Too weak, too ill. Just sleep.”
    Young Guy unraveled a couple of exposure suits and laid them out in the aisle next to me, making a kind of bed for me.
    “Lie down,” he said.
    “I’m not lying down, I’m not doing anything you say. Let me jump in the water.”
    It was a standoff. I’d decided on total opposition. Cooperating hadn’t gotten me anywhere with these thugs.
    The pirates berated me for a few minutes, then they went away and sat in their usual seats.
    I moved my feet, loosening the ropes as much as I could. Young Guy noticed and came down the aisle with his flashlight. The bindings got looser and looser.
    “He’s playing with the ropes.”
    “No, I’m just stretching out.”
    But then, I thought, Enough .
    “I’m out of here, I’m not playing this game anymore.” I kicked the ropes free from my feet and stood up. The pirates’ heads popped up from fore