"Yes, yes, yes," they scream and, in a flurry of brown limbs, they fight with the Triumph up a gangplank, over a rail into a narrow gangway, through hatches, over sills and bollards, four hundred pounds of metal dragging, sliding, flying and dropping among roars and curses and pleas for divine aid, while I follow, helpless and resigned. Finally the bike is poised over the water between the two boats. The outstretched arms can only hold it, but they cannot move it, and it is supported, incredibly, by the foot brake pedal, which is caught on the ship's rail. Muscles are weakening. The pedal is bending and will soon slip, and my journey will end in the fathomless silt of Mother Nile. At this last moment, a rope descends miraculously from the sky dangling a hook, and the day is saved.
Ted Simon Jupiter's Travels p 73