A weekend in the Thousand Islands brings these sailors friends more than they bargained for.
No other start to the day can be compared to waking up at dawn on a cabin cruiser tied to a pier burned by the sun in the Mille Islands, a chain of small islands extending from the coast of Jakarta in the crystal waters of the Java sea. The hours stretched lazily before you, and can be filled with sunbathing, snorkelling, fishing, explore the island, or simply drinking coconut juice under a palm tree with a good book until you sleep and the book slips from your hand.
But the day had not started well for Judd, American skipper. He was blissfully floating in the water at the stern of the boat, when someone-his Indonesian wife was the first suspect had emptied the toilet. It was now struggling to try to escape the lumpy brown tide that had sprung from the toilet pipe to swallow. Several passengers used the toilet this morning, but had followed the rules of etiquette and not rinsed while the boat was moored. This meant that there was a large accumulation of bowel movements in the toilet system. Judd was screaming and spitting.
After rinse to swim out into the clear water, he climbed the wooden pier walkways and walked up and down among the passengers disembarked, who were either fishing with long stems or sunbathing. He wiped his face with a towel, eyeing everyone, daring to stop suppressing their laughter or as long as snort.
Then he turned to his wife, who was far from contrite. Blame each other- "You should not have flushed the toilet" and "You should not have swum so close to the exit" -turned in a big argument. Judd and his wife were also assorted verbally and, since no one around to disturb the only "neighbor" was the next island along they also felt free to shout loudly that they liked, to drop all inhibitions, to enjoy a huge array of operatic proportions under palm trees.
around noon on the boat stock beer was running low, he was never the food, not drinking water, not fuel, not cigarettes, beer still who ran down. It was an opportunity to separate the couple quarreling getting Judd skipper the boat to the island nearest inhabited for some shopping. Some of us went along on the trip, leaving the majority behind, happy to play beach ball.
The magic of the Thousand Islands was the boat trips Judd, is non-commercial and not bound by a timetable was free to explore. Essentially, we had arrived at a private island whose owner was not inevitable, and ask the security guard if we could tie-up and use the beach. If he said yes, we would slip him some money, he said not, we had to blow the next island and ask again. Finally, we find somewhere where we were welcome. Although on this occasion, we had attached to a desert island with abandoned buildings owned by a government department.
The boat was never very fast. In fact Judd was proud of the way it was slow. He compared his boat to a laborious horse pleasantly. He used to despise fiberglass glittering stars who THUNDER spent his wooden ship as the sea-standards to reach any destination on the map in a fraction of the time. He said they have ruined the pace and quality of life. After coming in a speedboat that had mysteriously sank, Judd was delighted, as if he had torpedoed the craft itself.
When the beer had been restored, we returned to our island. The sun was high in the sky, surreal glow, making us apathetic. The first time I came on one of the trips I thought Judd wrong to sit in the shade sufficiently protected me from the sun. Oh how wrong I was, as I subtly cooked for two whole days by the sun's reflection on the surrounding water. Back in Jakarta I woke up the next morning with my face swollen like bread baked with a high fever. For the next fortnight, I was picking up shards of peeling the skin of my face. I now get through a bath of family sized high factor sunblock every trip.
Approaching the pier, we left three hours earlier, we were surprised by the welcome we got. Those we had left behind seemed too eager to wade to welcome us. In fact, they had an air of desperation, even hostility, about them. I remembered a little angry natives who hit Captain Cook died in Hawaii.
We heard loud noises about the boat. saw flashes appear on the edges of the cabin as projectiles struck. A stone bounced along the bridge. Then another. People were venting their displeasure earth about anything by throwing stones on the boat. Judd was no doubt about what had happened. "This is it. The boss. She turned them against me while we were gone. This is a mutiny!"
The idea of facing a mutiny clearly exhilarated Judd. He may have been waiting for this event throughout its short sea life. And now its time had come. We imagined that somewhere on the boat was a padlocked trunk containing cutlass, grapple and harness keel-mail -. A chest that he had always dreamed of breaking open
But the land in anger was not initiated by the wife of Judd. It was due to the boat being gone in search of beer without leaving the water behind - the Aqua drums were all on deck. Also none of those who remained had realized the drums were missing until they finished playing their intense game of beach ball under the blazing sun, and were hot, panting and sweaty - just the kind situation where a long drink of water is not only desirable but imperative.
Some of them could hardly be blamed for throwing stones at the boat back; they were delirious ravaging thirst, or suffering from heat stroke. Judd quickly unloaded a water drum roll directly into the sea. It was pounced upon and disputed. Judd made an apologetic speech of the bow rather in the manner of a misunderstood bully, shamelessly blaming his wife, saying that being covered with excrement had put him in a bad mood and dirty thought. His wife did not hear the accusation. She was busy guzzling its share of water.
The rest of the weekend without incident. The argument between Judd and his wife calmed. Water has been plentiful and the beer did not run again. The lay back and enjoyed the sun and serenity of the island. Playing a beach ball, of course, was out of the question - too traumatic. And every time someone had a swim they made sure to stay well clear of the stern of the boat.