January 2012
I was very surprised to hear voices coming from somewhere; I looked around, but couldn't see anybody. I listened intently, trying to decipher the conversation; I looked around again, but there definitely was no one else here, I was the only person on deck. I wondered that perhaps the voices were coming from an air vent, maybe an air conditioner, or central heating vent, but my search proved fruitless, there were no vents. I listened again for the voices, but with the throb of the engines, and the wind blowing, it was still impossible to follow the conversation, I could just pick out a few words: the crew, the Captain and to my horror, guns.
I decided I had heard enough, perhaps it would be wise to go, but to my horror the tarpaulin cover on the nearby lifeboat slowly started to raise up, I froze, I couldn't move. Up and up it came, so slowly, then suddenly I was looking straight into a pair of brown eyes. I don't know who was most startled, but then I realised where the voices were coming from; had I come across illegal immigrants, stowaways or even Somali pirates? I started to run, but a big brown arm grabbed my wrist.
'Not so fast, girlie. You Eenglish? You listen to us.'
'No, no!' I shouted, 'I didn't even know you were there.' and then with a quick leap, another pair of brown eyes and a grinning mouth complete with a gold tooth, appeared next to me. I wondered how many more people were in the lifeboat; it was quite large, probably capable of holding at least 20 people.
I was held forcefully against the rail, totally helpless; I looked over my shoulder and saw that I was hovering terrifyingly above the drop into the cold water racing past far beneath me. I could not help but wonder whether drowning might be as painful as it seemed.
Four more African men scrambled out from under the cover, each holding an ancient but lethal looking rifle. The largest and most frightening pushed his face close into mine, 'You are an interfering fool.' he said, while I held my breath against the overwhelming combination of halitosis and stale tobacco.
Over his shoulder the first face appeared, 'We are wasting time, we have so much to do – there is the ship to capture and the treasure to loot. So, make your mind up – do we slit her throat or throw her to the sharks?' His evil laugh was cut short by a gesture from the man holding me. I followed his eyes and saw, to my relief but also to my horror, a white uniform appearing down the ladder, his back towards the pirates.
I screamed, 'Look out!' and the uniform turned, frozen in surprise, but then the First Mate's face erupted into a broad grin as he took in the bizarre scene. 'So, how's the rehearsal going then, lads?' he asked.
The large man replied in perfect Oxford English, 'Not too bad, John, but it's bloody claustrophobic in there and you will need to make the lashing ropes more flexible, they were a bugger to squeeze through.'
The hands released me and I stepped forward. 'And what about her?' a cultured voice from behind me asked.
'Well, I don't think we should throw her overboard,' the Director replied, 'perhaps we might offer her a small part in the film, do you think?'
I don't think I had ever expected so much excitement on the Isle of Wight Ferry.