Latest / Simple English Listening — Comprehensible Input Stories / Kidnapped by Pirates - 5 Days of Hell - True Story 🏴☠️ B2 English Story
Transcript
- 1:00:40Hello, I'm Tristan. Are you ready toimprove your Englishtoday? With a crazy true story.It's 2009. A captain is taken by pirates.Pirates near Somalia, floating in the seafor five long days. Will he be saved?This story is not forchildren. There are frighteningscenes. Okay, let's go. I sit in thecorner of a small boat.My hands are tied together.The wet covers my body and I'm surroundedby four pirates, allholding AK-47s. We'refloating around somewhere in the oceanoff the coast ofSomalia. The engine is out offuel. We've been drifting for three daysin the ocean. We're allalone out here. I haven'tseen any other boats. Our food and waterare nearly gone. Andthe youngest pirate, well,the one with the shaking hands. He justpointed his gun, his gunat my face for the secondtime tonight. Five days earlier, I wasthe captain of theMeersk, Alabama. A cargo ship,a big, beautiful ship with 20 people onour crew. And we were in the IndianOcean. So the pirates,they rode to us so fast. I could see themin the distance, but they were muchfaster than us. Theycame in a speed boat and they threwladders onto our ship andthey climbed up so quickly beforewe could stop them. They pointed theirguns everywhere and theyasked, "10 million dollar,give me 10 million dollar or I'll killyou all." So I'm thecaptain and I offered myself as ahostage, the one captain in exchange for20 lives. And the pirates, they allagreed and they pushedme onto their boat, dragged me off ourboat and pulled me away. AndI looked back at my crew andI said, "I'll be okay." But I could seesome of them were crying. Iwasn't sure if it's true thatI'll be okay, but I just said it anyway.Their boat is just eightmeters long. It has orangeand plastic walls and the ceilings arelow and it just has two small windows onthe sides and that'sit. But drifting in the open ocean andthe engine died many hours ago. FourSomali pirates in a boatand me. Great. I study them. The leader,he looks thin, maybe 30 years old. Hegives orders in short,flat sentences confidently. He's donethis before and the twoothers, they follow him. Quiet,obedient, but the fourth pirate, he's abit different. He'syoung, 18, maybe 19. His eyes,they quickly jump from face to face. Heholds his gun so tightlythat you can see his hands,his knuckles are gray. This one, he doesnot follow the leader'sorders. He argues and heshouts. So I've been a captain for 20years and I know what a dangerous crewmember looks like andit's not the strongest one. Oh no, it'sthe one who is the most afraid and Iwatch the young pirateand I think he is the one that will killme if this goes wrong. So I do the thingthat I'm best at. I talkcalmly. I won't cause problems. I'll dowhat you say. Just tell mewhat you need. I keep my voicelow and steady. Many hours pass and theheat in these plasticorange walls is just too much.The pirates drink the water supply, butthey do not offer me any. Somy lips are dry and they crack,split open. Every breath tastes likepetrol and warm plastic. After15 hours, our radio, it stillisn't working. The pirates, they'rearguing now, their guns are swingingaround and their voicesrise. The leader, he tries the radioagain, speaks into it. Static noise. Hethrows it on the floor.The young pirate, he's breathing fast,too fast. He stands up and hegrabs me by the shirt and hepulls me close to his face. Now he'sshouting at me and I canfeel his hot breath on my faceand his eyes are wild. The leader pullshim off of me. I can see theyoung one's hands are tremblinga bit. My hands are trembling too. "Thisyour fault," he says tome. "It's nobody's fault,"I say calmly. "We want the same thing. Weall want to go home." God, give me thestrength to survive.I tell myself, as horrible as this is, Idon't regret exchangingmyself for my crewmates.I imagine them being homeand safe with their families.That night, I feel my wrists. My wristsare starting to burn from the nylon ropethey tied around them. I close my eyesand think of my wife. My wifewill be at the kitchen tablenow with my son and my daughter. They'reprobably asking, "How many more daysuntil daddy comes home?"Well, the next morning, I hear something,a deep low sound, anengine, but not a small engine.It's an engine of something huge. Theleader, he opens the hatch. Then we allsee it. It's the grayshape on the horizon, big, a UnitedStates military ship. Mychest fills with something Ihaven't felt in days. Hope. I'm feelingreal hope. But, of course,I try not to show my hope.Then we hear a voice, a voice on theradio comes through.It's calm, clear, American.The leader then puts the radio into myhands. He drags me to thehatch so the Navy can see me,and he holds a gun to my head. "Tellthem," he shouts, "tell them$2 million or I kill you now."Now, the young pirate, he stands behindme. His AK-47 pressesbetween my shoulder blades.So I speak into the radio. Each word iscareful and clear. "Thisis Captain Michael Turner.I am alive. These men will free me for $2million. I want to scream,"Please hurry!" But I keep my voice flatand professional, a captain's voice.Hours pass and the U.S. warship doesn'tmove closer. I can see it just sittingthere on the horizonlike it's watching, waiting. But waitingfor what? What if they decide saving meisn't worth the risk? What if they leaveme here? I push the thoughtdown, but the thought comes backagain and again. The young pirate pullssomething from his pocket,bullets. He loads them into hisAK-47 one by one. Click, click, click.That night, two piratesare snoring. The leader sitswith his head down. I think the leader isasleep too. Only the youngone, he's awake, but his eyesare half closed. Now the rope around mywrists, it's now looser. I've beentwisting and pullingand working at it for hours, and my bloodmakes the rope slippery. Islide one hand free. Thisis my chance to swim to the warship. Myheart speeds up. I movetowards the hatch slowly,one centimeter at a time. I quietly pushthrough the opening, andI jump into the dark sea.I quickly swim deep, kicking hard, and Idon't look back. As Isurface to breathe, then feel handson my ankle, then hands on my neck. I getdragged backwards, and Iswallow salt water, and I choke.Then a gun presses against my temple. Ifeel the hard steel againstmy skull, and I'm pulled backinside the boat. The young pirate, hehits me in the face. Once, twice, theleader pulls him off."No more," the leader says, "but he isn'ttalking to the youngone. He's talking to me.You try again. You die. You understand?"I nod, and blood goes downfrom my nose into my mouth.They tie the nylon rope back on, and nowit's tied tighter. Itreally bites into my raw skin.I'm sitting in the corner, covered insalt water and sweat. God, give me thestrength to survive.The next morning, the Navy calls again.The pirate leader agrees to negotiate.The Navy sends us an inflatable boat, andthe leader jumps in. Sonow the leader's gone.Now, I didn't know this at the time, but300 meters away, threesnipers lay flat on the sternof the warship. They watched us throughtheir telescopes. Theocean waves lifted and droppedour boat every few seconds. For thesnipers to hit theirtargets, they had to time each shotperfectly. They waited for the order. Sothree pirates arestill in the boat with me,and none of us are speaking. The silenceis heavy. There's onepirate. He sits near the hatch.And another pirate leans against thewall. His weapon is across his knees.But the young one, he watches me. I cansee his eyes are red and tired.Then the thin plastic walls tear open.Three shots in one second. My ears ring.I don't understand what's happening. Thethree Somalis now liemotionless on the floor.They're not moving. There are holes inthe wall. Three holes. Bullet holes.Then the hatch opens, and light pours in.I hear English, American English.You're safe. We've got you, sir. Handsgrab me. Strong, steadyhands. And they pull me onto theirboat, and they drive me back to thewarship. They wrap a blanket around myshoulders. They give mea bottle of water. I keep dropping it.They keep picking it up. Theytake me to the medical room.A nurse sits in front of me. She shines alight in my eyes. Young,calm. You're okay. You're safe.Can you tell me your name? I crack. Myname. My name is MichaelTurner. The words come outin pieces. Please, I want to call mywife, please. I can't form words. Tearsstream down my face.But the nurse, she holds my hand, and shedoesn't let go. For fivedays, I had nothing but thesesimple words. God, give me the strengthto survive. And I said themwhen the heat and the thirstnearly broke me. And I said them everytime the guns touched myskin. These words were the onlything between me and the abyss andmadness. Weeks later, my wife makescoffee and sits beside me,and my kids argue about something sillyat the kitchen table. Thesunlight shines through thewindow. My wife reaches for my hand underthe table, and I holdit, and I don't let go.The nightmares, they get quieter, butthey're always there. Butit gives me a sense of peace,knowing all my crew members made it hometo their families too.