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‘See that white yacht in the bay?’
‘That’s the boat?! Wow!’
‘No, you bodoh. It’s the one totally underwater. Ayuh! Of course that’s the one. It’s the only one that you see.’
‘Oh… I just thought you meant the other one… Hehehe… I mean all the boats out there are white you know.’
Jac just shook his head in exasperation. Hassan was not stupid, really. He was just called that, ‘bodoh’ which means ‘stupid’ in Malay, a reverent title for the best friend that he had in the islands. In actuality, Jac had only a handful of friends. And Hassan was right as usual. All the small fishing boats had been painted white.
‘She’s a beauty, Hassan. Full 20 metres. That’s 65 feet for you, who hasn’t quite grasp the intricacies of the metric system.’
‘Um… Why are you pointing it out to me?’
‘Because kawan, I want your help in stealing her. It should be easy. Besides, the nearest police station is on Barandung. It’ll take them at least 4 hours to get here. In that time, I’d be quite far away. It should be fairly easy and straightforward. So, are you with me?’
‘I don’t know Janggut. Stealing a boat could mean hanging… And… Um… why do you call it a ‘her’?’
‘Tell you what, I’ll steal the boat while you go and distract the owner. I’ll sail it to Tawarin. You know that cove I’m speaking of. I call it a she because that’s the normal nautical term.’
‘But… But we don’t call our fishing boat a ‘she,’ Janggut. You always told me it is an ‘it’, not a ‘he’ or ‘she.’ Besides I don’t see any breasts or… um… you know…’
‘Grrrrr! Is that all you think about?’
‘No, I think about sex a lot more.’
‘That’s what I was talking about. Anyway, are you with me or not?’
‘Okay. Okay. No wonder Marlissa always leave afterwards. You are no fun at all. But please, Jac, no killing. We don’t get enough tourists as is.’
‘Agreed, no killing. Now go. I’ll signal you when I’m ready. I’m going to go out to have a closer look, and see if anyone else is on her. And later you can tell me what else Marlissa says about me while I pull all your eyebrows off.’
‘Hahaha! Don’t forget your signal… And be careful.’
‘Someday Hassan, you’re going to forget to say that and the sky will fall down… See you in while…’
Hassan jokingly called Jac ‘Janggut’ which literally means beard. Jac was probably the only one here amongst islanders on the nearby islands that can actually grow a full beard. The rest of the islanders have stubbles and can get away without shaving for weeks at end. Jac on the other hand, had to shave at least once a day, or he will be itching like mad. When Hassan used that nickname, it meant that he was on the scheme as a partner.
Jac’s full name was Jacob Edwin Calhoun, formerly a British Citizen, now a fugitive. Due to some unfortunate circumstances, bad timing really when the Marine Police came a tad too early, he had to run and disappear for a while until things cooled down. The details of it were really boring. Suffice to say that another half an hour more would have made him a rich man, rich enough to never work again for the rest of his life. Retirement by the time he was 30 really sounded fantastic. Anyway, not only was Interpol looking for him, so too were the Triads, for flushing 10 million pounds sterling worth of cocaine into the sea.
He got lucky by escaping in a deep-water fishing trawler. It was one of those that blatantly flout international laws by fishing in other countries’ national waters, basically well inside the 15-miles Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ). The area between the South China Sea and the Sulawesi Sea abound with islands, natives and rich fishing waters. The trawler was heading for the Spratly Islands, a grouping of oil, natural gas and fish-rich islands disputed by at least five nations. The reluctant passenger had no choice in the destination, not that he was complaining.
When they reached Arang Archipelago, Jac decided that he had enough of the leaky trawler. He figured that one island would be the same as another. The fact that one of the Spratly’s had a new People’s Republic of China Naval base made his decision much easier to come by. He had to swim in because the trawler could neither spare a boat nor the time to stop long enough. He was however, grateful for small miracles, and the waters were warm enough that it presented no problems, except for the occasional dark fin on the surface in the distant.
It was easy for Jac to blend in, since his mother was a Chinese. He had inherited his mother’s oriental looks, with his deep brown eyes that in weak light, looked black. And he also had that narrow with double-eyelids eyes that oriental women favoured so much. Another advantage was the fact that he spoke a smattering of Malay, legacy of an Indonesian nanny and maid. It was just a tad enough for him not to starve.
That was two years ago. He had since gained full command of the language. The sun and surf had bronzed his skin enough so that he could pass easily as a native. Nevertheless, Jac had his father’s genes build-wise. He was 6′ 4′, towering a head above the natives. That was a problem, but sometimes freaks of nature happened, and he took it in stride that the natives accepted him as such. His biggest problem however, was his blonde hair. He had no choice but to submit to continuously hiding that fact with black hair colouring. The islanders used coconut milk to make it, so unless one really like the coconut, Jac smelt of coconut milk gone sour almost all of the time. He thought after a while he could get used to it, but he never did. His pillows, bed and clothes always smelled of spoilt coconut milk.
The Arang Archipelago, with Arang as the main island, was typical like the ones always touted in tourist brochures. Once a fortnight, a supply ship would pass through. And it was close to international shipping lanes, so it was not as isolated as many people thought. They could get books, newspapers and even magazines. They even had a satellite dish for TV reception. The dish was pretty much used as a school tool something called distance learning. The government, which claimed this archipelago, was adamant about universal literacy, a sound policy that Jac approved heartily.
Most of the inhabitants were several generations already on this island. They were not rich, and would not be for a long time, since the tourist traffic was almost non-existent. But they were happy, and Jac soon learned the quiet, dignified, and often understated, humour inherent in them. Facing the occasional cyclones would do that to a person. He still remembered vividly the first time he experienced a tropical cyclone. He was buried inside the rubble of his hut for two days before Hassan came and dug him out. From that day forward, Jac learned lying real fast, almost becoming as good as Hassan and his brothers.
The skill that Jac learnt and was most proud of was the making of Toddy, coconut alcoholic drink. It started by placing a container where the growing fruit got the sweet drinking water. Collecting the containers 30 feet up in the air, while avoiding the ever-present red fire ants was a challenge. But the end result of fermentation was worth the effort. And he made the best toddy on the island. The colour was milky, but the taste was sweet, and extremely intoxicating.
Jac usually exchange that for food, even trading as far as Barandung. Toddy was illegal of course, and drinking unclean toddy sometimes killed people. A lot of people would use discarded fertilizer and insecticide containers to ferment the brew. Jac made sure that he only used clean ones. He had bought them off a small merchant ship carrying plastic wares that passed through.
Life was fairly hard with a lot of work involved, but he was enjoying his stay. So one day it surprised him that a motor yacht would drop anchor in the bay and visit Arang. It was unusual because it was a private yacht. During his two years
here, this had not happened before. So it piqued the entire island’s interest. Jac, on the other hand, was leery initially, but he saw the possibilities that lay ahead. Criminal possibilities if truth to be told. He surmised that two years would be enough for the Triads to lose interest in him.
Jac saw the islanders gleefully welcoming a handsome blonde man on the beach. The short introduction gave him all the information that he needed to surmise that this would be an easy caper. He doubted that there was anyone within a thousand kilometres of here who could speak the visitor’s language. So, he took the opportunity to row out in a sampan and get a closer look at newcomer’s mode of transportation, hoping to make a transfer of ownership. (Terms to be used in polite circles.)
The motor yacht was a beauty, like he told Hassan. The exterior was both stylish and functional, and expensive looking. The side decks were wide, allowing safe access from the spacious aft deck to the sunning area on the foredeck. The fly bridge had double helm seats, plus ample and plush seating for guests. Jac even tweaked a few buttons and was glad that the entire ship was all fully automated. She even had a bow thruster and active stabilisers. Jac assumed that the engine was large, keeping in tune with the rest of the boat. He surmised that she could probably do somewhere between 20 to 25 knots.
The interior of yacht was scrupulously clean. Adjacent to the aft deck was the roomy saloon with soft leather sofas and rich handcrafted woodwork. The best part was the 42′ plasma screen TV that rose on a lift from the starboard locker. Forward of the saloon was the gourmet galley, large dining area and pilothouse. Jac was about to venture further below into the cabins when he heard a cough and a long groan. Someone was onboard and in slight pain it seemed. Jac decided that he had enough time to make his plans and execute them without being discovered. So he quietly left, making sure that everything was back in place beforehand.
He made a great show of rowing off and then doubling back so that if anyone happened to see him, it would appear that he was just heading out there.
Jo
- 17.12.2021
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