—Somali pirate, Wired.com, July 28, 2009 Just as I turned, the Somali shot off two rounds into the air. POWWW. POWWW. Up close, that weapon sounded a hell of a lot louder than from down below. “We’re fucked,” I heard one of my crew say behind me. “Relax, Captain, relax,” the pirate yelled at me. He was short, thin, and wiry. His face was tense. “Business, just business. Stop the ship, stop the ship.” I was so shocked I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t believe he’d gotten up so fast. He’d gone through the piracy cages like they were child’s play. It was 7:35 a.m. The pirates had taken about five minutes to board my ship and take the bridge. I still had the portable radio in my hand. I turned my back to the pirate, pressed the key, and, in a low voice, said, “Bridge is compromised, bridge is compromised. Pirates on the bridge.” This would let the first engineer in the after steering room know the pirates were in control. “Take the steering,” I half-whispered.
