Things are already rough at the start. We’re soon wet through after coming up against the weather. Uncle says we’re to travel at a certain angle, and slow when we reach the top edge of the island. It gets tricky, ’cause the waves come straight at us. As we clear the island, the storm suddenly turns angry. My uncle says not to worry, we can surf the waves, head away on a certain angle, and surf the breakers. That’s not as easy as it sounds, because the weather is now full on. I’m thinking, “Oh shit, we’re gonna have to balance this tinnie!” And it gets worse. We keep on going, but before we know it, we lose our direction, so that when we look around, there’s no sign of the island. That’s how we’re supposed to figure our direction, by taking the angle of travel from the position of the island. My uncle asks, “Do you see the island?”
“Nup!”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure!”
I move to the front of the boat, but still can’t spot it. There’s a certain amount of confusion goin’ down. I say to Uncle, “Are we all right?”
“Yeah, we’ll be okay. We’ll wait twenty minutes or so; then take another look.”
So we keep movin’ forward, keep shiftin’ forward, and the waves are gettin’ even bigger.
“Look now,” says my uncle.
We stare and stare, but still there’s nothing. That’s when I really start worryin’. After travelling for an hour, Uncle slows, and tells us to take another look. Nothing. I ask Uncle how much petrol we have in the tank. He tells me it’s half full, that we can make about twenty kilometres. We keep on lookin’, and I start to freak a little more. I have to work to get a good hold on myself. We keep watchin’, and then Uncle says, “Looks like we’re in a bit of trouble.” I don’t want to hear things like that. I stare at Koraubara, and I see a lot of big emotions written in his face, like fear and guilt, and the certain shame he feels for landing us in a situation like this.
“What do you mean, trouble?”
I go on looking at Koraubara, at the salt spray as it splashes in his one good eye.
We travel for another twenty minutes in a fixed direction, then change to a new course for a further twenty. Then Uncle announces, “That’s about it. We can’t travel like this and use up our petrol. We can travel, waste it, or we can wait until we come across an island?”
The waves are now so big they’re breaking over us. Uncle is pretty stressed out. Soon as he cuts the engine, and the boat begins to spin, that’s when he really loses the plot.
We all sit down; I grab a screwdriver, and start to scratch out a rough map in the aluminium hull, where I also start to mark the passing of each day. I say to Uncle, “I think we’ve been heading too far in this direction. The island is over there, a little more in that direction!”
Koraubara moves his head in a depressed kind of way. I realise then how dependent we are on him. He’s the man, he’s done it so many times, and he’s been lost at sea before. This is what you call a nice how do you do, this is! I’m aware that my heart is racing. We have to balance the tinnie as the huge waves batter us from all directions. The storm isn’t getting any better, and I say to them both, “What are we going to do?” Taea makes a number of inconclusive noises. I suggest we take a certain course, so as we can stop the spinning.
“Why don’t we head in this direction for a while?”
Taea shakes his head. “We can do that, travel like that, but we use up our petrol, and then we’re really in trouble.”
“I suggest we sit down for a bit, until we calm down.”
“He’s right,” says Koraubara, “Ben’s right. We’ve been looking all over the place, but nothin’ has changed. We’re not gonna see an island in two minutes, just floating. We should sit down, and think about it.”
“One thing is for sure,” insists Taea. “We’re not gonna use up our petrol! We wait until we reach an island. Use the petrol to reach any island we spot down the road.”
I’m still feeling the effects of the home brew. My head’s all over the place, and I haven’t had anything to eat. The tinnie keeps on turning, and getting bashed by the waves. I try to think positively, and say to my uncle, “There’re a couple of islands around here, right?”
It becomes more difficult as time unwinds. It’s hard to breathe. Taea chews on his fingernails; we stare at each other, like, “What do we do now?” We keep looking out for other boats, wishing for something to come. There’s no sign of anything … it’s gettin’ dark, and still the storm builds. I quiz my uncle, “What do we do?”
“You fellers lie down, try an’ get some sleep. I’ll stay up, and watch for the Tarawa light. We can take it in turns.”
How do I sleep when I’m getting tossed around like this? I try, but it’s no good. After about four hours, around ten o’clock, Uncle says to me, “Hey, Ben, can you take a look?”
What’s goin’ on?”
Koraubara calmly points into the distance.
“Over there!”
We can both see the lights of an island.
“What is it?”
“I think it’s Tarawa, the capital.”
“Yeah! Will you look at that?”
I’m having all sorts of ideas about freedom. “What are we doin’, then?”
“We don’t have enough petrol to reach it. Even if we did, we’d never make it at night, especially in this kind of weather.”
This goes down hard, seeing what you want to see, but knowing you can never reach it.
“What’s the alternative?”
“We wait for the next island. There are islands scattered everywhere round here.”
Next day we’re buggered from no sleep, waitin’ for the sun to shine. I feel thirsty, and that’s when the subject of rationing comes up, when we realise the seriousness of the position we’re in. We have a drink, and then Uncle says, “Ay, fellers, we’ll have to watch our drinkin’, ’cause we don’t know what’s comin’ up, whether there’ll be any rain. We have to watch the water bottles, ay?”
This is the first sign of a system. Uncle has the idea that rough times are ahead. In other words, we only get to drink when we’re dyin’ for one. We’re goin’ okay. We’re not worried too much ’cause we think it won’t be long before someone chases us down. We have to stay positive. We’ll hang positive, and watch out for planes or ships. But there’s nothing, and the same thing happens the next day. On the fourth day, still nothing but heat and wind, but the water is at least calmer. That’s when the size of our situation hits me. What happens if we don’t see any planes, ships or other islands? We’re in big trouble now, ’cause we’re thirsty, and there’s only seven hundred milligrams of water. We talk about it together, but we’re all shaking. Taea fights back his tears. He wants to be back with his family, and he’s in love with my uncle’s daughter. He just sits there, pullin’ on the longest face I ever saw, and sayin’ he wants to be with his woman. It gives me the shits, but then we’re all down in the dumps. I remind Taea I’m an Aussie citizen, and how much this will increase the chances of being rescued. I don’t want him thinkin’ I’m just your average I-Kiribati. I really do believe we’ll be rescued any time now. The whole weight of the thing comes down on me heavy, and I have to fight off clouds of depression. I start taking in my two shipmates with more than usual interest. I think I’m gonna be spendin’ a lot of time talkin’ to myself. Uncle’s not well. He’s diabetic, an’ he’s nursin’ himself already. Not much good talkin’ to Taea; he just freaks out. He thinks he’s the wrong bird in the wrong cage. I hear him moan, “I don’t wanta be here, man! I got things to do back home. Can you get us out of this?” If ever there was a trapped bird. Never sits still, jumpin’ round all over the place, like he could tip the tinnie over at any second. Uncle keeps sayin’ to him, “Hey, look after the transport!”
What the f—k am I doing here? A storm of thoughts runs wild in my head, and each one’s a negative. I have to think positively, and that means I have to accept my situation. This tinnie is my flat on the green prairie, my small space until who knows when? I’m adrift, drifting along without a direction. The sea can take me down anytime. I’m like a prisoner on death row. One wrong move, an’ I can be down there in the deep, floatin’ around forever. I’ll probably reach the point where I stop altogether. Nuh! It’s gotta be me who calls out when to stop, when to call it quits. If this is a war, then I’m here to fight every inch of the way. We can only survive if we act together.