The lieutenant slowed immediately and sounded three blasts on the ship’s horn as he changed course. However, it was clear getting the Albany to the wharf amid a flotilla of jostling canoes was not going to be easy.

Kaboro called out to Sergeant Singkepe, who was on the quarterdeck.

‘Be ready to fire a burst over their heads. We will have to take her aboard.’

Drawn by the commotion, Sura appeared from her cabin next door, with Goki in tow.

‘What is going on, Lieutenant?’

As Kaboro explained his intention, Sura’s frown grew.

‘But our contract expressly prohibits the picking up of passengers.’

Nash stared at her. Was this the same woman he’d discussed shooting with last night.

‘Surely you’re not serious? This is an emergency.’

‘Lieutenant, I must insist that you follow your orders to the letter.’

Kaboro seemed paralysed by indecision, but after a few seconds he astonished Nash by veering away and increasing power. In a panic, the tall woman broke free and ran along the edge of the wharf, waving and yelling. Two men ran after her and began dragging her back. Struggling, she lashed out. The smaller man fell over, clutching her bag.

‘What are you doing?’ Douglas called, as Nash exited the bridge. ‘Robbie!’

Ripping off his shirt, Nash clambered over the safety rail on the port side quarterdeck. It was a five-metre drop to the river and, in the interests of getting to the woman as fast as possible, he dived as flat as he dared, striking the water in a great whump of spray.

The river was warm and tasted like mud. On breaking the surface, he cut loose for the wharf in a powerful freestyle. The ship’s horn reverberated, signalling man overboard. Nash could feel the current pulling him sideways. The thought of what might be lurking in the murk lent extra speed to his stroke, and he quickly covered the forty metres to a long flight of slimy concrete steps, taking them two at a time.

On the wharf, the situation had deteriorated. Fearful of being deprived of their prize by the approaching ship, three men were aggressively pulling the woman back and forth like a rag doll.

‘Baim kago! Baim kago!’ shouted a skinny man in jeans, trying to tear away her bags. A big strong guy in ragged shorts was enthusiastically thrusting himself against her, while the third circled with a knife.

‘Plis!’ the desperate woman implored the onlookers as she struggled to fight them off. ‘Helpim mi!’

Her cries merely encouraged the onlookers to goad on her assailants instead.

‘Hariup!’ they roared. ‘Goan, fuck her!’

The man in ragged shorts grabbed at the woman’s breasts. In the ensuing struggle, he took hold of her shirt, and in one savage motion tore it off. A lustful thrall fell over the men, the prelude to an all-out attack.

‘Let her go!’