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The
crew
goes
money
laundering
By Gideon Malherbe,
Skipper
This is the
second in a a
series of stories
written by
Gideon and based
on the
adventures he
has had in
Indonesia.
As skipper of
the Indies
Explorer, he
plies the
"surf
route" off
Sumatra and
offers charter
trips. Click
for more info.
Part
2.
The
Vanishing
Crew
The crew cabin is completely bare. Cleaned out. No hint of the fact that this is where our 6 Indonesian crew slept for more than a month. Gone awol. Hasta la vista. Thanks for playing. And we won't see you next time either.
It takes a few minutes for the reality to settle in. It is 1 October 1999. Our very first 14 day charter is about to commence. Earlier this afternoon 12 passengers boarded the Indies Explorer and they are now waiting on the aftdeck for our departure. We have to leave Jakarta harbour before sunset.
My mind wanders and I suddenly realise why in the days of the spice trade the punishment for desertion was 12 strokes with the cat o'nine tails. And that's if you were lucky. If I catch any of my ex crew I will simply keel haul them and feed the left overs to the sharks.
Its one week since we left on our maiden voyage from the port of Makassar on the Island of Sulawesi. We were following in the wake of the ancient spice route to reach the bustling port of Batavia on the Island of Java. It was no easy crossing. One hour out of Makassar we were hit by an ugly storm, with gale force winds ripping through the rig and a mean side swell hitting the newly launched vessel with a shuddering regularity. Two hours later our Global Positioning System went blank. For 5 days we relied on dead reckoning and the stars to guide us across the South China Sea. At this point very little separated us from the ancient seafarers who sailed this route before us. And somehow it felt right to have shed all the electronic gadgetry which accompany modern sailing. Even if it was only for 5 days.
The four Indonesian deckhands were seasick most of the way which left Lombard, Nic and myself to do the cruise watches. By the time the storm broke on the morning of day three the Indies Explorer had past her first real test with flying colours.
By day four it was "Land Ho!" as we sited the Island of Java across the port bow. Who needs a GPS anyway? The next day we dropped anchor in protected Batavia Bay, Jakarta.
We were still on schedule. We had planned our first charter from Jakarta to Panaitan Island which boasts the famous dredging lefthander called "One Palm Point".
It was going to be my first surf since I started building the boat 14 months ago in a small village in South Sulawesi.
From Panaitan we were going to explore north, hunting for waves at Enggano Island, Mega Island and finishing off with the South Mentawais. Needless to say I could not wait. I was nearly beside myself with anticipation.
So, this morning we picked up our first group of charter guests who had flown in from South Africa. My wife Chantal showed them to their cabins. Quite a few of the guys had brought their wives and they were stoked when they saw the size of the cabins and the double beds!
Whilst Chantal was taking our guests on a tour of the boat, our Indonesian crew had requested my partner Lombard to take them ashore. They needed to use a Laundromat to wash their clothes. No problem. They also wanted next month's salaries to send home to their families before continuing on the voyage. I should have smelled a rat then. But it seemed a reasonable request at the time so I paid each of our six crew a month's salary in advance and Lombard dropped them at the Laundromat.
Now here I am. Sitting on a bare bed in the crew quarters. I can hear our passengers chatting excitedly on the deck above me. They have 14 days of perfect surf ahead of them and they were VERY amped up. But so am I.
I've been working at this dream of exploring the Indonesian islands on my own boat for 3 years now. Finally the Indies Explorer is built and ready. Diesel in the tank. The sails are ready to roll.
But a 120 ft gaff rigged ketch is a sailing ship which needs a well trained professional crew. Which right at this moment we don't have. And in exactly half an hour's time we have to raise the anchor to start an epic adventure.
I hear Chantal entering the crew quarters behind me.
"You know what you got to do, don't you?" she asks.
"But we can't operate the boat without an Indonesian crew! We need 6 men just to pull the anchor up," I answer.
"Yes you can! You, Lombard, Nic and Ed are 4 strong guys. You can do it!"
"But I am the only one with sailing experience…!"
"Doesn't matter. You did the crossing practically without the crew anyway. Now go out there, get Lombard and the others together AND FUCKEN DO IT! You've been dreaming about this moment all your life and now you're just going to sit there with your head between your hands because a few Indonesians deserted you?"
So that's what I did. Sometimes you need a woman to cut through the crap. A woman of Chantal's calibre. Thanks babe.
Myself, Lombard, Nic and Ed form a small lager up on the foredeck, out of earshot of our passengers.
I look each of them in the eye and say: "We have a small problem. Our crew never came back from the Laundromat."
They looked back at me, the realization of what that statement implies slowly sinking in. Lombard smiles.
I continue: "Chantal reckons we can do it. If you guys back me up, I will skipper the boat. Lombard, you're the ships engineer. Nic, you're 1st mate. Ed, you're the deckhand. What do you say guys?"
Nic answers: "This is the way it should be. We don't need anybody's help."
Lombard and Ed nod in agreement. We can do it.
"SO LETS GO!!!"
Lombard turns to me. "Shall I start her up?"
Without waiting for an answer he disappears down to the engine room and a few minutes later the exhaust goes "Whooooooosh!!!" as it spits out a jet of exhaust gas just above the waterline. The straight 6 Cummins engine settles down to a low idle, a rumble which you can feel in your feet, a rumble which shoots jolts of excitement into your gut. Small squirts of adrenaline set my heart pumping in my chest.
By 17h30 we weigh anchor. Our charter guests help us to raise the 150kg pick off the sea floor. Seven strong surfers versus one anchor. Fortunate for us it was no contest. Chantal stands on the foredeck, arms crossed, a naughty smile on her face as she watches the bare torsos of seven surfers, muscles flexing as they heave in unison. Up comes the anchor. I told you so.
Ed shouts from the foredeck: "Anchor's up!"
I engage gear, slowly applying throttle. The 150 ton Indies Explorer, custom built for surf exploration, glides forward.
Six o'clock comes with Jakarta disappearing in our wake, the skyscrapers of the city reflecting the yellow light of a setting sun. We should be at One Palm Point by day break. The Indian Ocean Expedition has begun. |
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Chief
Thief
steers
the
boat
before
he
split.
Evening
sun
brings
last
light
to
a
purple
ketch.
Land
ho!
The
island
of
Java
is
sighted.
Guests
unpack
their
surfboards
.
Work
ya
landlubbers!
The
guests
had
to
pull
anchor.
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