And indeed those waters were truly murky. Because from the lofty prominence of the wheelhouse you could get a really decent overview of the Sargasso Sea.

I had read about this sinister area when I was a child. The Ocean’s Graveyard, it was called, amongst many other uncomplimentary things. It was a portion of the North Atlantic Ocean bogged with a surface-growing seaweed called Sargassum. It dwelt within the notorious horse latitudes, in an area known as the doldrums. When sailing ships found themselves windless and caught in this mire, they rarely if ever made home port again.

And legend had it that there were many ghost ships to be found there, barnacled up and choked with seaweed. With naught aboard but skeletons and the wraiths of long-dead sailors.

And yes, looking out from that wheelhouse you could see the wrecks. And there were many of them too, from ancient Romanesque sailing barques to twentieth-century shipping.

‘Have you tried putting the engines into reverse?’ asked Hugo Rune of the captain.

‘You are Mr Hugo Rune,’ said Captain Pooley, all of a suddenly sudden. ‘I recognise you from your photograph in John Bull. Being congratulated by the King, after your famous four-way Channel swim.’

‘A bet with George Formby,’ Hugo Rune explained to me and he shook my father by the hand.

And that really meant quite a lot to me, though I would not perhaps wish to put into words just why.

‘I would be grateful for any advice you might have to offer, Mr Rune,’ said Captain Pooley. ‘I did try reversing the engines, but it seemed to make matters worse. Both screws are now jammed and there appears to be imminent danger of the boilers blowing up.’

Himself gazed over the mayhem below. ‘I think I see the stokers fighting their way into one of the lifeboats,’ he said, ‘so the boilers will probably be safe for now. Do you have any rum about yourself?’

‘The special captain’s bottle,’ said the special captain.

‘Then let’s crack it open and discuss matters,’ suggested Mr Rune, ‘until all the foolish people have left the ship and there is some peace and quiet.’

And so that is what we did. We drank rum up there in the wheelhouse and watched the rich people bashing each other up, falling over the side, crowding the lifeboats and generally carrying on in a manner which, I have to confess, I found most amusing indeed.

Schadenfreude I know it is called. Or epicaricacy, as the English will have it. From the original Greek.

But they would have let me be eaten.

It was nightfall before it began to grow quiet. There came a few distant cries for help as foolish people went down on the overcrowded lifeboats. A number of piercing screams which, I was given to understand, might have something to do with the shark-infested waters. But then mostly calm.

And we had the great ship to ourselves.

We had left the wheelhouse by this time and, as the special captain’s rum had all gone, adjourned to the bar to take advantage of the easy access to the counter.

And behind this counter stood Fangio.

And next to him sat his monkey.

‘Jolly good to see you, Fange,’ said I. ‘Decided against fighting your way aboard a lifeboat, then? Wise.’

‘Lifeboat?’ said Fangio. ‘I’ve been having a sleep and have only just come on shift. It’s very quiet in here this evening. What is all this about lifeboats?’

‘Nothing you should worry yourself about,’ I told him. ‘But this is the captain and the drinks are on him.’

‘Are they?’ asked my father. ‘Well, I suppose they are. Or on the house, at least. I’ll have a pint of Cooper Black, please, barman.’

‘I think the running gag about typeface beer names has run its course,’ I said.

‘Pint of Cooper Black coming up,’ said Fangio.

‘Then make that two,’ I said.

And, ‘Three,’ said Hugo Rune.

‘So,’ I said to my father, ‘the ship is not actually in imminent danger of sinking?’

‘Not in the least,’ he replied. ‘It’s just a bit stuck, that’s all.’

‘I find this encouraging,’ I said.

‘I did miss something, didn’t I?’ said Fangio. Presenting us with our ales.

‘I never saw you pull those,’ I said.

‘Because I never pulled them, it was my monkey. Did you know that if you sat an infinite number of monkeys down before an infinite number of typewriters, one of them would accidentally type out a book called Retromancer? So what did I miss?’ implored Fangio. ‘And why do you smell of white-wolf gonads, Rizla? I did miss something, didn’t I?’

‘The captain sort of bumped this ship a bit,’ said Hugo Rune, taking his beer glass to his mouth. ‘But it did lead to a lot of upper-class rats fleeing a non-sinking ship. So I think we must chalk it up as a success.’

‘Except that we are in a hurry to reach New York,’ I said.

‘Precisely,’ said Hugo Rune. ‘So regrettably we cannot enjoy the peace and quiet and perhaps upgrade to better accommodation. We must make haste to extricate the ship from the Sargasso and head for the USA.’

‘The Sargasso Sea?’ wailed Fangio. ‘Then all is lost. We are doomed, we are doomed.’

‘Ah,’ I said. ‘I had forgotten about the Weeping and Wailing Competition. What time does it start? I would like to enter it too.’

‘Eight o’ clock,’ said Fangio. ‘We are doomed, we are doomed, oh mercy, mercy me.’

‘Enough,’ cried Hugo Rune and he raised his stick. ‘Someone will have to don a diving suit and go down and cut free the screws. As originator of this idea that will save all of our lives, I nominate the captain to carry out the mission.’

‘And as captain,’ said the captain, ‘I nominate this barman here.’

‘And I nominate Clarence, my monkey,’ said Fangio.

Fangio’s monkey shook its head and pointed a finger at me.

‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘I am not doing that. I know all about the shark-infested waters and I would get claustrophobic in a diving suit. And I am not a very strong swimmer.’

‘Then I shall do it,’ said Hugo Rune.

‘You?’ I said. ‘Surely not.’

‘It will have to be done, Rizla. And someone will have to do it.’

‘We could perhaps draw lots for it,’ I said. ‘Or spin a bottle, or something. It does not seem fair that you should do it, you are rather-’

‘Old?’ said Hugo Rune. ‘Portly?’ he said also.

‘Too dignified,’ I said. ‘But it is a job for a younger man. Either Fangio, or the captain, or myself.’

‘Or the monkey,’ said Fangio.

And the monkey bit him.

We had it all planned. Well, we almost did. We would have a few drinks then take ourselves off to the ship’s casino. And there we would play cards, or throw dice, or otherwise gamble, but let fate decide by one means or another which of us should dive.

And I think we had at least come to the agreement that it would all rest upon a spin of the roulette wheel, upon THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE, as it were.

But then we heard the sounds.

That round of cannon shot.

And the blowing of many whistles.

And a kind of atavistic howling.

Which heralded the boarding party… of pirates.