Thibault gestured towards the tanker, and spoke tersely to the First Officer: ‘ En avant.’ Let’s go.

Though the corvette was small compared to the massive container ship, her engine packed a mighty punch. Within seconds she was closing in on the Aristides and her unwelcome visitors at maximum speed. Simultaneously the radio officer, Marceau, was trying to contact the bridge of the container ship, to warn them of the imminent attack. ‘They must all be at breakfast,’ he muttered after his repeated radio bursts received no reply.

When no more than two hundred yards separated the vessels, Captain Thibault gave further orders and two of his crew took up position behind the pair of.30 mm cannons mounted on the bow. Three more men armed with rifles stood by.

Ahead of them, a figure had detached itself from the huddle in the skiff and started to clamber up the ladder. He was soon halfway up, a rifle on a sling hanging from one shoulder as he climbed.

Suddenly the corvette’s radio crackled into life. ‘This is M.V. Aristides. Why are you approaching?’

The crew member did not sound alarmed; it would be evident to those on the container ship that the approaching vessel was a French patrol boat. Marceau replied sharply, ‘French Warship Tarasque. We are not your only visitors. Pirates are climbing a ladder at your stern.’

Thibault took over the microphone. ‘This is Captain Thibault, French Navy. One pirate is boarding you: stern, port side. Armed. There are others in a skiff at your stern. We’ll deal with them. Keep your crew below decks and out of range. Is that understood?’

‘Understood,’ came the confirmation.

They were less than a hundred yards from the tanker now, and Captain Thibault ordered the engines to be slowed to idling speed. He clicked a switch on a microphone, and his voice was transmitted clearly through an amplified speaker across the water.