There has always been a moral ambivalence about piracy. The English, over the centuries, have been loath to admit that their greatest pirate, Sir Francis Drake, was just that: a pirate. If his cynical disregard for other people's property is ever conceded, the preferred noun is the circumlocution "privateer".

Of course, Drake was more than a pirate; he was a world-class sailor and explorer. After his heroic 1017-day circumnavigation of the world in the late 1570s, Drake found himself a seriously wealthy man. When his ship, the Golden Hind, returned to England, the venture's backers received a return of around 4750% on their investment - a rate that might even impress the more spivvy of today's so-called financiers.

An estimate of the worth of the bullion and treasure that weighed down the little ship as it approached England is, in today's values, at least £30m. (The pirates from Somalia are operating in a bigger league; the value of the oil on the Sirius Star, the supertanker they so spectacularly hijacked a few days ago, is worth at least £100m.) The booty on Drake's vessel was plundered from Spanish ships. The fact that the Spanish had cruelly abused their status as colonialists to steal it from their territories in South America is beside the point: Drake was a criminal, a thief on a grand scale.

His epic voyage has been described as the first great English achievement on the world stage. Perhaps. But it was also an extended exercise in robbery and pillage. In Scotland, we have not produced a pirate of the same world-class status, though John Paul Jones, who went on to become the father of the American Navy, was in his day a notable pirate.

The romantic notions that surround piracy are understandably potent. Very rich countries are robbed by people from poorer countries. There is an undoubted Robin Hood element to these escapades. Except that the Somali pirates seem to keep much of the booty themselves, rather than distribute it around. One or two little ports off the mountainous coast of northern Somalia are now apparently filled with all the flashy consumer goods beloved of capitalist civilisation. But I'm not sure that we should get too indignant about this.

There has been indignation, however, and much of it has focused on the ship-owners whose huge vessels have been attacked and, in some instances, seized by comparatively tiny boats. The ship-owners (in my view understandably) prefer to pay ransoms rather than allow the incidents to escalate into war. The multinational Nato armada currently operating in the area (at goodness knows what cost) seems largely impotent, with one recent significant exception. If the ship-owners hire more effective mercenaries to defend their ships, there could be a bloodbath, as well as complete contempt for international law on both sides, not just the pirates'.

The pirates are not yet directly linked with terrorist organisations, but the government in Somalia is. If western mercenaries start killing the pirates, the whole business could develop into a major threat to one of the world's most crucial trade routes. As it is, very few of the seized seamen (most of whom are from Malaysia, the Philippines, India and Pakistan) have been killed.

A serious consequence of the piracy will obviously be economic. Insurance premiums for international shipping will rocket up. The cost of moving freight up and down the east coast of Africa has already increased tenfold since last year. And, if goods go by longer routes, the price of many commodities will rise rapidly.

Even more worrying than that is the long-term effect on the local African economies. Egypt, one of the key states in the Middle East, relies heavily on income from the Suez Canal. Kenya's Mombasa - the major gateway for goods going into and out of east and central Africa - could become a ghost port.

All this means that piracy, ultimately, is a dangerous and reckless attack on free trade, on the economies of many countries, poor as well as rich, and potentially on human life. It cannot and should not be tolerated. But that does not prevent a certain, possibly irresponsible, admiration for the sheer audacity and bravado of the pirates.

And let us not forget that this piracy grew out of Somali fishermen trying to protect their own tuna boats from the vast industrial fishing fleets operating in the waters off East Africa. These industrial fleets came from far away. To some extent, this is, indeed, a fightback by the poor of the world, who have only boldness and terrific seamanship to deploy against the colossal forces of global capitalism.

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