The Note

From where I lay in the small klinker boat an odour assailed my nostrils, acting like smelling salts. Reluctantly my fogged brain came out of its stupor. The boat was rocking gently the waves lap-lapping on the side; the boiling sun was beating down relentlessly, my mouth and throat parched dry. I kept my eyes closed, trying to keep consciousness at bay, afraid of waking up. But the smell of sweat was too strong. My brain kicked in. Jesus. Jesus Christ, I’m still here . Five days with no food, two with no water. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I couldn’t believe what had happened. I heard myself groan, as flashes of memory played out in my head. Please God, make it go away, please...

The makeshift bar onboard the SS Superstitious was pretty well equipped. I should know, I’d been practically living in it since I’d boarded her two days ago. The barman however left a lot to be desired. His green jacket was frayed at the cuffs, his shirt frayed at the collar. I couldn’t see his lower extremities behind the bar but I was willing to put money on a shiny arse. On top of that, he didn’t speak English. No one on this tub did. I guess that’s the price you pay when you can’t afford full price. Ha, I had made a joke. Pity no one else could get it. I pushed my glass towards the barman.

"Fill her up, Pedro, and have one yourself". Another joke. I’d been saying that with each of the ten or so drinks I’d ordered, but of course, he couldn’t understand me, so he didn’t take up my offer. Ah me, generous to a fault.
I’d paid $US450 to a shady character at a shady bar in downtown Jakarta, which secured me passage on this one-removed-from-a-junk ferry boat, which would take me to the Northern Territory. No names, no pack drill, no English. The crew was a motley bunch of multi-nationals, and there were no other passengers. Ostensibly, it was a cargo ferry.

I was pondering this for the umpteenth time, when the door burst open. The guy framed in the doorway was a definite fright. I had never seen anyone so scared. Sweat was pouring off him as he staggered forward and thrust a piece of paper at me, shouting some strange words. Before I could say anything, he abruptly turned and ran back out the door. Seconds later there was a loud splash. What the hell? I looked at the note; even with double vision, I could tell it wasn’t in English.

"Hey Pedro, this must be for you, I sure as hell can’t read it".

The barman came forward slowly and diffidently took the note. He read it once and then closed his eyes. After a minute, he opened his eyes and came out from behind the bar. When he stood in front of me and I saw the look in his eyes, my heart skipped a beat. Pedro was truly, deeply frightened. He placed the note back in my hands and left the bar. I needed to find out what was going on, so I followed him out on deck.

It was dark and I was drunk, but I could see him over by the rail, groping for something in his pocket. The very next moment he was perched on the rail, holding a gun to his head. A shot rang out and he fell into the churning wake of the boat.

For a minute, I was frozen to the spot. My brain was having a hard time believing what had just happened. I looked with fear at the piece of paper still clutched in my hand, and then flicked it away, as if it were a big, hairy tarantula. The wind took it down the side of the ship, lodging it against something for a second, and then freeing it up with another gust. I hesitated. Maybe I should go after it, find out what the hell was going on. Take it to the captain. Yes, that’s the answer - take it to the captain.

I lurched away from the door and followed the note down the boat. I got within a couple of meters when a door opened and a bearded, turbaned guy came out and looked in my direction. The wind picked up the note and slapped it, bam, right in his face. Before I could stop him, he snatched it off his face and started to read. He paled, started to walk backwards as if trying to escape from something. I moved forward quickly to grab him, stop him from running away, saying wait, wait, tell me what’s going on.

When he took out a long bladed knife from inside his shirt, I thought my number was up. Instead, he held the note out for me to take. With the knife poised close to my jugular I wasn’t going to argue. As soon as I took it he turned round and fled towards the front of the boat. I didn’t want to contemplate what he was going to do with that knife.

I had to find the captain. He had to be up in the wheelhouse. I made my way forward, buffeted by the wind, and found the steps leading up.
I didn’t bother with formalities, just yanked open the door and stumbled in. The captain, a small, wiry man, calmly looked up at such a boisterous entrance. Boy was he in for a shock.

I wasn’t sure where to start. He got the ball rolling. "Can I help you?" English! He spoke English! "You speak English!" I spluttered. "Listen. I’ve got something here that I want you to read. But not yet. I - I need to tell you something first". I babbled on, blurting out that at least two of his crew were overboard, another possibly lying somewhere with self-inflicted knife wounds. When I paused, he held out his hand for the note. I handed it over.

Like the others, his face changed when he read it. He didn’t say anything for a minute, just gazed out the window, considering something. I was ready to spring in case he pulled out a gun, or a knife or something. Instead, he looked back at me, seemingly having made up his mind.

"I want you to listen very carefully. I will only say this once, and I will not answer any questions. I am going to put you into the dory, with some provisions, and send you off alone. You will row away from the ship, you will not look back".

While he had been talking, he pressed a silent button. Within seconds, two men had entered the cabin. The Captain issued some brief, urgent instructions in another language. They each grabbed an arm, immobilizing me. The Captain thrust the note into my jacket pocket and jerked his head at his men to get on with it.

It didn’t take them long to lower the dory, throw in some provisions, and get me on board. Oh, I struggled of course, but it didn’t do me any good. What with the wind and my still inebriated state, I wasn’t able to do much. Before I knew it, I was alone in a small boat, with the ship rapidly putting some distance between us. He said not to look back - yeah, right. What was I going to do - turn into a pillar of salt? Worse, as it turns out. But not me - for them. As the ship disappeared on the horizon, a huge explosion lit up the night sky. Now I was very, very scared. The ship had blown up. The captain had scuttled his own ship. My brain could no longer cope, and I passed out.

When I woke up it was daylight, the wind had abated, and I had one hell of a thirst. I probably drank half of my water supply before I realized what I was doing. I ate some food, slowly, pondering my situation. Although I was surrounded by a bleak vista of water, water and more water, I told myself I was on a shipping lane; before I knew it I would be picked up. Heartened by this self-delusion, I ate a bit more, and went back to sleep.

The days passed. The supplies ran out. I picked up the note several times, trying to read it, to decipher its message. Eventually I gave up, throwing it in the bottom of the boat in disgust. And now, here I was, waking up again to the hot sun, and the living nightmare.

I must have drifted off again, because a tap-tapping sound woke me up, then the sound of voices. I looked up. Several men were leaning over the side of a large ship, using fishing gaffes to try to hook the dory. My little boat was tapping against the side of their ship. I tried to speak, but only a croak came out. I struggled to sit up, but I was too weak.

And then I watched, helpless, as one of the gaffes hooked the piece of paper, and was hauling it up. They were hauling up the note. And they were going to read it.

I lay back, and closed my eyes.