It Was a Dark and Stormy Night . . .

I thought I would like to be a sailor one day. Or rather the captain of a ship, or perhaps a doctor on a big ocean liner like the Sonata.

I was enjoying myself tremendously.

The Sonata was sailing north and the weather became balmier. The deep blue water of the Indian Ocean intrigued me. We were being followed by a flock of seabirds, and every so often a pod of dolphins joined us, shooting through the clear water like torpedoes to give us a display of synchronised swimming and sets of spectacular leaps.

From the lower deck I saw flying fish. They rose from the surface like miniature airplanes, flew a few metres and then plonked back into the water.

The people on board, though, were a different matter.

All they were interested in was eating, sunbathing and dressing for dinner. They could just have well have stayed ashore! I dreamt of one day again sailing along this route, in a yacht perhaps, just my dog and me.

In the evenings I read William’s book on the his­tory of pirates. It was much more interesting than the Hollywood films. Piracy was sort of legitimate until the middle of the 19th century, and the French king gave sailors a letter of marque, which was a licence to prey on English ships. When the French and the British were at war, these so-called privateers were a cheap way to fight each other at sea.

Of course, the British did the same. In those days these waters were teeming with privateers, and real pirates too!

I especially liked one called Jean-François Ho­doul. He operated from the Seychelles, and when he became rich enough, he stopped being a pirate and retired to his very own island, where he grew coconuts.

There were also other interesting characters: William Kidd, and Olivier Levasseur. His nickname was La Buse, the French word for a buzzard. He was a very successful pirate. With all these pirates around here, there still had to be a load of unrecovered treasure hidden in this part of the ocean . . .

Despite my enjoyment, though, I doubted whether my spaniel was having as much fun as I.

He stayed locked in his closet for most of the day. Only he could know how he kept himself busy during those long hours. I thought he was napping. We used our radios to communicate with each other, and at least he could summon me if nature called.

We were approaching Mauritius. My mom and I (and William too, somehow) were going to stay at a hotel for two glorious days before we were to take a flight back home.

There was a costume ball planned for our last night aboard. The passengers were thrilled and while they were all in their cabins to dress up, I had a chance to take William to the upper deck for some fresh air. My dog was looking tense. I thought he was still a bit seasick, and the ship was rocking more than usual.

The weather was playing up. Purple storm clouds were gathering on the horizon. A sudden gust of wind almost knocked me off my feet. A salty spray, sharp as needles, hit us in the face.

“Let’s go inside, William. It is going to rain.”

But he was staring towards the horizon, his tail pointing stiffly and his whiskers bristling.

What did he see?

I strained my eyes and then I saw it too: the dark outline of an approaching boat.

“We have to act quickly,” William said.

I wanted to ask, “What’s up, boy?” but I was interrupted by a sudden commotion behind us.

“There he is!” a voice shrieked. “I told you there was a dog on board! Catch him!”

Preston. A short stubby man with a moustache and one golden earring was at his side, swearing luxuriously in French. It had to be the owner of the voice we heard on our first night, when we hid in the cupboard.

There was no time to lose. The two of them were bearing on us with outstretched arms.

“Go, William!” I commanded and made a beeline for the stairs. I heard our pursuers’ footsteps close behind us, Preston yelling like a siren, “Stop! Stop I say! No dogs allowed on deck!”

Then I realised that William was no longer at my side.

I hit the brakes.

“Dogs?” I said innocently. “Which dogs?”

Preston grabbed me by the arms and shook me like a rag. “Where is your filthy mongrel?” he growled.

“Are you insane?” I said. “Why are you chasing me? Leave me alone!” From the corner of my eye I saw William sneaking around a corner and out of sight. I just had to stall them and he would have a chance to escape.

I shrieked at the top of my voice: “Help! Help! I’m being attacked!”

Clearly the two scoundrels had no wish to draw attention to themselves. Preston immediately let go of my arms.

“Calm down, boy, and shut up!” The stubby fellow said, trying to do some damage control. He gave Preston a sharp slap to the back of his head that made his ears burn a fiery red. “Leave the boy alone, stupid! Can’t you see that he has no dog?”

Preston glowered with fury and pain. He stepped back from the older man, snarling like a cornered fox in a chicken coop.

“I know he has a dog. Where are you hiding it?” he asked me.

I blinked my eyes innocently. “A dog? I didn’t see it. Surely there are no dogs on this ship.” I glanced around, just to make sure.

“A dog, yes. I saw it clearly, and just the other night I stepped into its poo. My shoe is still smelling!”

I couldn’t help but grin. This angered the waiter even further, but the other man laid a heavy hand on his scrawny shoulder. “Come, let’s go. Leave the child alone. We have no time for this nonsense.” He screwed up his eyes and stared at the horizon. Large drops of rain began to fall, and the wind picked up.

The two men turned around and quickly walked away, Preston with a final searching glance over his shoulder to see if he could get a glimpse of that dog. “I’ve got my eye on you,” he snarled.

Then they were gone. Night had rapidly descended and it was suddenly very dark. I noticed that the lights on deck were not switched on as they usually were at dusk. The upper deck, used during the day for games such as shooting clay pigeons and volleyball, was dark and deserted.

“William!” I called, softly.

No reply.

I leaned against the wind and walked towards the railing. The ship was heaving and rolling as the swell grew larger by the minute.

There was no sign of my dog. I could only hope that he’d made it safely down to his closet.

Then I heard a dull thud to the side of the ship. I looked down.

Outlined against the dark water, I could see a boat that had moored against the hull of the Sonata. There were no lights, but I heard muted commands being uttered in a foreign language.

It had to be the boat that we saw before we were surprised by Preston and his friend. And what had they been doing up here anyway? I had a bad feeling about it all.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning tore through the dark clouds above. For an instant it illuminated the scene below, and I glimpsed a row of men swarming up a rope ladder towards the lower deck. The flash ominously reflected on the barrels of machine guns that were slung around their necks.

Pirates!