The sky was blue, the clouds were white, and the pirate ship floating in clear waters off the starboard bow of the USS Halyburton was a bright orange lifeboat.  Not very pirate-y and certainly not the Black Pearl, but then this wasn't your father's (or grandfather's, or great-grandfather's) SS Titanic lifeboat, either; rather, it was a 24' state-of-the-art, enclosed pod stocked with enough food for ten days and enough gas to make it ... almost ... to the coast of Africa.

            This new and improved, not-at-all-inflatable lifeboat came as standard issue on the merchant cargo vessel Maersk Alabama.  Somali pirates had seized the pod, along with the Alabama's captain, after their plans to take the rest of the ship fell apart when the unarmed crew repelled the boarding.  Said repelling is not something that Somali pirates are used to.  Most merchant marine crews are trained to give up peacefully to pirates in the dangerous waters off the Horn of Africa so that the ransoms can be paid out of the shipping company coffers and the ships returned to regular duty without much delay.

            So, to make up for the loss of the ship, the pirates demanded two million dollars for the return of Captain Richard Phillips.  Instead, they got two US Navy warships.

            The USS Bainbridge, a heavily-armed destroyer, arrived on the scene first.  The ship I was sailing with, the USS Halyburton, a frigate whose crew has been trained in anti-piracy and anti-drug operations, came soon after, having steamed at high speed to assist the Bainbridge.

            While the pirates waved around weapons and tried not to look terrified that there were two US Navy warships and assorted air support circling them like sharks, I sneaked peeks from a well-positioned porthole.  I could see that the front window of the lifeboat had been smashed, possibly to provide the pirates with airflow in the tropical heat.  I could also see movement inside the pod.  I decided that the porthole might be too well-positioned and wandered off somewhere safer.

            Now, let's be clear here.  In the great pirate vs. ninja debate, I side with the pirates.  Among all the sword-wielding outlaws in history and lore, pirates easily come off the winners: they wear flashy clothes and jaunty hats; they have gold earrings and snazzy peg-legs; they have parrots named “Polly”; and, not least among the job benefits, they have their choice of bar wenches.  Ninjas have to skulk around wearing all-black, living monastic lives somewhere up in the mountains where they're lucky to get some rabbit stew for supper and their chances of catching a glimpse of a bar wench, or even having a parrot named “Polly,” are practically nil.

            The story I associate with ninjas is probably apocryphal, but involves a ninja hiding in a king's toilet (which was essentially a giant Port-o-Potty in those days) waiting for the king to finish his taco salad, grab a copy of the local newspaper, and saunter into the privy where the ninja was waiting to ambush him with a spear.

            You'd never catch Johnny Depp hiding out in somebody's toilet bowl.

            And there's the catch: we're talking about storybook pirates and ninjas when we talk about parrots and peg legs, or even black hoodies and throwing stars.  In real life, pirates aren't the noble savages of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, out to have some fun and to fight injustice, in the form of the East India Trading Company, Robin Hood style.

            In real life, pirates are parasites of the sea, attaching themselves to whatever big, slow-moving prey might pass nearby.  They siphon out some blood by way of the shipping companies, and then are gone, off to lock their suckers onto the next whale -- or merchant ship -- to lumber by.

            Or at least that's the standard plan.

            Five days after Captain Richard Phillips was captured and taken on-board the Maersk Alabama's lifeboat by four pirates, he was freed by Navy seals (another monastic group who live on mountaintops).  In the real life clash between pirates and ninjas, the ninjas won.

            But when they make the movie, they'll probably still call the lifeboat the Orange Pearl.