After weighing all the scientific evidence and making a careful probability calculation, I decided that, no, on the whole, it hadn’t happened. It was simply incredible. Things like that didn’t happen in real life.
But they might happen on a romantic journey into the interior of South America, a little voice in my head said.
I snorted. Sure! Next thing, I’d be taken captive by a rakishly handsome pirate lord! Shaking my head at my own foolishness, I returned to my own cabin to get a good night’s sleep.
About two hours later, the river pirates attacked.
Nibbling at Pirates’ Bottoms
If anyone was hoping for me to awaken in the arms of a handsome pirate, I have to disappoint them. Instead, I was awakened by gunshots and curses mingled with Spanish battle cries. Most were pretty incomprehensible, but I did catch something about cutting off balls. Apparently, my self-taught Spanish lessons were paying off.
Dragging my behind out of bed, I quickly pulled on the first scraps of clothing I could find, grabbed a knife from the table, and hurried up on deck.
Torches lit the night like angry dragons’ eyes. From up the river, another boat was approaching, men with guns and sabres bustling on deck, shouting enchantingly filthy curses. Our men were rushing to the railing, no less armed to the teeth. Their faces were grim, but determined. Seeing a mountainous figure tower up out of all the confusion, I hurried over to him.
‘Karim! What is going on?’
‘A pirate attack,’ he told me, his face unmoving as a gnarled old oak.
‘I can see that for myself, blast you! What are we doing about it?’
‘Waiting.’
I was getting fed up with the bodyguard’s lack of conversational skills and was about to tell him so, when an iron grip closed around my arm.
‘What,’ demanded an ice-cold voice right next to my ear, ‘are you doing up on deck?’
I held up my knife which, this morning, I had used to dismantle a particularly stubborn crust of bread into chewable portions. ‘I came to fight! We’re under attack, aren’t we?’
‘Yes!’ His grip didn’t loosen. On the contrary, it tightened. ‘And that means that you have no business being here! Go and-’
‘Sahib!’
Karim’s warning shout came not a moment too soon. I could see the flash of gunfire from the enemy ship out of the corner of my eyes, and a moment later I was flying, crashing onto the deck, a heavy weight slamming on top of me.
‘Oomph!’
‘Stay down!’ Mr Ambrose hissed into my ear. ‘And don’t move!’
I can’t say I found my first pirate raid particularly exciting. It is rather hard to see all the exciting stuff that’s going on while you’re being squashed to the floor with a heavy, hard and determined Rikkard Ambrose on top of you. I pointed this out to him several times, but he must not have heard me over the gunfire, or he would surely have been so considerate as to get off me and help me to my feet, right?
Yes, of course!
The story - as later told by Karim, with an annoyingly self-satisfied smirk on his face - went thus: the pirates had been travelling downriver, probably on the trail of one of the merchant ships we had encountered on our way up. How they must have cheered when - lo and behold - instead of having to chase some vessel miles downriver, they found us anchoring at the shore, practically defenceless. Like all self-respecting pirates would, they of course immediately agreed to rob us, gut us and throw our limp corpses in the river. What a golden opportunity, right?
Wrong.
The pirates were somewhat surprised, to say the least, when, upon opening fire on the defenceless merchant ship, hidden hatches had opened in the side of said merchant ship, revealing a nice collection of pristinely polished cannons, pointed straight at them. Their surprise was still more intense when the defenceless merchant ship opened fire, destroying the rigging of their boat and bringing down both masts with one salvo.
The biggest surprise, however, came when the captain of the helpless merchant ship sent out his men to the wrecked pirate boat, led by a mountain-high, sabre-swinging maniac in a turban, who made short work of the fearsome pirates, shooting most and chaining the rest with their own chains. It wasn’t long before the ragged remnants of the brave pirate crew were arrayed on the deck of the Mammon, looking rather dazed.
‘Well?’ I demanded, trying to scrape dirt off my beloved peacock vest, which had gotten a bit stained and ruffled on the deck of the ship. I threw a morose look at Mr Ambrose, wondering whether he would foot the cleaner’s bill. Probably not. ‘What now? What are we going to do with them?’
Mr Ambrose was walking down the line of stunned pirates, examining each as if he were a bug under a microscope. ‘Well, they meant to rob us. Why don’t we return like with like, as the Good Book recommends?’
‘You take advice from the Bible?’
‘From the rare parts of it that are sensible.’ Mr Ambrose nodded to Karim. ‘All right. Take everything of value they have, sink their boat and throw them overboard.’