Chapter 11
The combination of familiar kitchen sounds coming from somewhere in the strange house, the sultry smell of sheets that felt moist and the brilliant light from the fast rising sun filtering through the linen curtains, awoke Jane with a feeling of being completely rested. She had no idea of the time. That almost got her a panic attack fearing that it was already past midday and that she had wasted the better part of the day.
Quickly she jumped out of the bed, not realising that the pain had gone from her knee. She enjoyed the warm shower, got into some clothes and ran downstairs via the large winding stairs. Tatters of an animated conversation between her sister and Pieter, interrupted now and then by Jackie's clear laughter, were meeting her in the hall. Jane caught herself on an envious tone when she entered the kitchen and said: “I hope I am not disturbing anything?”
She looked disapprovingly at Jackie who, only dressed in a man's shirt, sat on the sink. Her slender tanned legs dangling loosely. “And what brings you already here, miss sleep-in? Normally you are never awake before me.”
Pieter was quick to answer: “hi Jane, certainly not. Join us, I have just prepared an Asian breakfast. Noodles, dim-sum, stirred and fried egg, chicken soup and, euh, yes that's about it. And some freshly baked rolls. And tea.”
While Pieter was serving Jane, Jackie continued unflinchingly. She was not bothered by her sister's nasty comments. After all it was not her fault that her hair was just a bit fairer, that her eyes had just a bit more blue and that her legs were longer. That was the reason why Jane had forced a code of conduct onto her since she was seventeen to stay away from her boy friends.
“No big sister. But there is good news. Pieter has picked up the distress signal of our boat so we know that she is still afloat. The signal contains the GPS coordinates, so we know where she is. We were just looking on the map to see how best to reach the Port of Call. So, that is terrific news. It means that we can continue our trip once we have the mast repaired. A job they can certainly do at Diego. Or we can sail on the motor to the South Seychelles, any harbour over there will have a facility to repair boats.”
Pieter added: “and there is more good news. It looks like your yacht was caught in a current that brought the ship closer to Egmont. That means it is within the reach of the Zodiac. I know you will miss the airplane, but it is what it is. Of course we don't know how sea-worthy she still is. It is not because the distress beacon is still functioning that the ship is not submerged already. So we'll have to take a look and I was just proposing to Jackie to join me.”
Jane looked up from her noodles. She had to admit, for a male hermit he could create some really good dishes. “What's the time anyway?”
“Believe it or not sissy, it is only eight in the morning. It's been years that I got out of bed this early.” Jackie stretched, jumped off the sink and winked to Pieter: “excuse me, but I will make myself ready. And oh yes, thanks again Pieter for the really wonderful evening last night. Apparently you are not the murderous hermit I expected you to be.”
Jane followed with a frown her sparsely dressed sister. She hated it when Jackie was sucking it up. Pieter took a seat next to her, holding the maritime map in his hands. “So Jane, you did have a good rest, I assume?”
“If you take into account that it has been weeks since I have slept in a normal and non-moving bed, yes, I did sleep like a baby.”
“In any case, you look well rested. So you will be able to help me.”
Jane looked at him quizzically while she was spooning the last drops of chicken soup from the bowl.
“I need someone to assist me with the boat as I will make another inspection round of the island. In normal circumstances it is something I do immediately after severe weather, but since you came in the picture the situation was not exactly what I would call normal. It has also been a while that I have taken the Zodiac on a longer trip so it will not hurt to warm up and test the engines beforehand. And I don't want to be the laughing stock of Diego when Jonathan has to send a rescue party to pick us up from a powerless boat.”
Jane nodded approvingly, not that she had anything else planned, but it seemed a good idea to get to know the island a bit better. “And Jackie?” she asked.
“I asked her just before you entered but she wanted to stay here, catch up with mail and apparently update her social media pages. Bragging about her endeavours. Guess she also wants to work on her tan...”
“Oh, I thought you had already decided to go together. When I entered the kitchen I felt like a party pooper,” remarked Jane colder than she intended.
Pieter grinned and lead the way to the spacious terrace at the back of the house. Jane breathed deeply the warm smooth air. The smell of the beach mingled with the damp leaves. The silence from last night was replaced with an alternating crashing of falling coconuts, the whistling and twittering of birds against the background of the surf. A corpulent insect hummed past Jane, it seemed to hesitate whether or not to come closer but disappeared suddenly. Jane tried to follow it with her eyes between the foliage. To her surprise she could spot the see and the beach between the trunks and the shrubbery.
That would be her destination this afternoon.
Pieter appeared from the external cellar entrance pushing a trolley on large rubber tyres, loaded with jerry cans and a toolbox and made his way to the path that they had walked yesterday evening. In broad daylight it was easy to navigate around the uneven tiles and the roots which laid waiting like booby-traps. Jane thought the image of Pieter zigzagging behind the trolley was hilarious.
Abruptly the path changed into a wooden floor of about one and a half meter wide that was put over the beach. The floor separated after a couple of meters into two parts. The left branch headed for the pier where the Grumman lay peacefully like a big swan. The right branch lead to the boat house.
Jane pointed at the black tail that pointed at an straight angle out of the water about two hundred meters into the lagoon.
“Also one of your better landings?” she teased him.
“Nice try. But I am afraid that I have to pass the honour to the competition and well before my time, during the Second World War. It is the remains of a Japanese seaplane. At that time those things were used as reconnaissance planes. And he got lucky because I did not find any remains in the wreckage. The pilot must have been able to rescue himself. During that war the Japanese forces had troops all over these islands, mostly to man anti-aircraft guns. Or to serve as a radio relay station. Don't forget that they did not have satellites at that time. When we have some spare time we can go snorkelling to the wreck. It is amazingly well conserved. And it is interesting to observe how life has developed in and around the place. So, as long as it does not hinder anyone, I certainly have no problem with it.”
Pieter continued to drudge with the trolley and hissed: “there is the boat house. It has been built on a concrete floor that used to serve as basis for the anti-aircraft guns. Inside you can still see the iron rails used to lead the guns. It must be the strongest building in a radius of a hundred miles.”
Jane followed Pieter through a grating door. It took her eyes a while to adjust to the darkness inside the house. And her nose to get used to the sharp smell of oil, tar and fuel. The construction consisted of two parts. The smaller part was securely fastened to the concrete floor and contained cabinets and racks filled with dishevelled stuff. A work bench took most of the space at the far end. Closer to the water there stood two massive wooden trestles. Each trestle held an impressive Evinrude E-tec 300 outboard motor. A steel hoist beam spanned the ceiling. Chains with specially constructed iron hooks hung from a winch. The second and larger part covered a short fairway in which the rugged Zodiac was moored.
He started to unscrew the two Evinrudes from their trestles. Few days ago he had security fastened them with storm-bolts. When the last bolt fell into his hand, he declared, while caressing lovingly the shining white bonnets: “these two beauties are the last ones
I want to lose.”
Carefully he mounted the hooks and the chains in the right holes and took a bulky remote control. Gently he manoeuvred the first engine, accompanied by the loud rattling of the winch, till the mounting pin fell into the appropriate cavity in the Zodiac. With one leg on the concrete floor and the other balancing in the boat he also installed the second engine and connected the necessary electrical wiring and fuel hoses.
He gave Jane the sign to unknot the hawsers and she took Pieter's hand to jump on board. She took a seat next to him behind the windscreen. He turned the ignition key and the two powerful V6 engines obeyed immediately with a dark growl. Visibly he enjoyed the dark noise that was more powerful than any automobile engine sound. He opened the throttle just enough to glide slowly from the small dock into the lagoon. In a wide curve he steered around the wreck of the Japanese plane allowing Jane to see its new tenants: corals, kelp, algae, and fishes. Happily she said, “yes indeed, we certainly have to come back to snorkel and take pictures. It is wonderful.”
Pieter took his binoculars and asked Jane to turn towards the north westerly passage, the channel that divided the Egmont Island into the unpopulated ile tattamucca and the smaller Ile carne pate. Still going slowly through the calm pale blue water between the two pearl-white beaches they approached the coral reefs situated a couple of hundred meters from the shore. Pieter had been studying the shore line for possible debris or damage but was happy that nothing could be detected.
"Good, good," he repeated, "you cannot imagine how many ships are still abusing the bad weather to clean their tanks. It would not be the first time the beach is contaminated with oil."
Jane saw that the sea became darker at the other side of the reef. The waves burst over the higher parts of the coral that was just above or just below the waterline. Pieter took the helm to carefully cross the reef. Immediately Jane felt that the boat swayed more heavily and the temperature dropped a couple of degrees, indicating that they now were entering the ocean. Pieter throttled hard and the powerful engines catapulted the Zodiac away from the island, throwing Jane almost from her seat. She poked him in the ribs. Apparently he could not stop teasing.
Pieter shouted against the noise of the engines and the smacking of the hull against the waves: “at this speed we should be there in less than an hour. Tell me when you feel uncomfortable or nauseous.”
Jane nodded as if she had understood and did not even make an effort to reply against the combined noise of engines and wind.
She decided to enjoy the ride and the view.
After an hour Pieter throttled back and gave Jane one of the binoculars. “Why don't you screen starboard?” He tapped on the large screen of the GPS receiver. “We have arrived at the position transmitted by your distress signal. I am a bit concerned that we don't see anything and that the yacht sank after all. This GPS is very accurate.”
Some minutes passed where only the soft murmur of the engine and the slashing of the swell against the boat could be heard. Then suddenly Jane spotted the boat and started to yell. She pointed into the direction and Pieter sped up the boat.
Carefully they approached the yacht, precautionary slow to avoid floating ropes or cords. He did not want to run the risk to be faced with the frustrating job of cutting a rope that was tightly caught in the propeller. Coming closer Pieter found a good spot to fasten the Zodiac to the tilted yacht.
“This is amazing. It must be a strong ship,” he pointed at the waste-hole from which a constant stream of water spurted. “The bilge pump must have worked the whole night. And judging by the immersion, it looks like she didn't take more water then when we left her.”
Pieter leaped onto the ship, lost his equilibrium on the slippery deck and fell against the hard polyester folding table mounted behind the steering wheel. He cursed and tried to regain his balance. It seemed that the tilting of the boat was more severe when standing on the ship compared to looking at it from a distance. He disappeared into the cabin where he made his way through a maze of debris. Finally he found what he was looking for: the hatch towards the engine room. Curiously he pulled at the ring and disappeared half into the small manhole. As he had hoped, the engine and the electronics had been spared. It remained a mystery, but he liked it.
He took one of the flashlights that were fixed close to the fuse panel and tried to inspect as deep as possible into the hull. He immediately understood why the ship had not sunk. The Port of Call was equipped with special airbags that inflated once certain sensors detected that the boat was making water. The filled airbags, made from the same material as his Zodiac, had pushed the water out and sealed off the cavities in the hull. Now he also understood the debris. Some of the bags were mounted in storage space and when going off the content had erupted into the main cabin. He thanked Jane's father for being such a visionary.
He crawled back on deck. Jane was looking expectantly from the Zodiac. He put up his thumb. “You can be very grateful to your father that he equipped the boat with advanced safety features like airbags. Anyway, I suggest we try to save the sails but the mast will have to be chopped. The boat will straighten up automatically and with some luck we can sail on the engine to our island. And if we are really lucky I can pull some strings at Diego to mount a new mast, despite all of their military secrets. Can you please pass me the red tool box?”
Jane moaned as she levered the heavy box over the rails of the yacht. He offered his arm to pull her on board.
“The airbags are providing sufficient buoyancy and I don't think there are any major holes in the hull. But we will only know for sure once the boat is straight on the water again. You never know whether the mast has damaged the hull below the waterline. Let's bring in those sails first.”
On knees and hands Pieter slid towards the middle of the boat and slipped alongside the mast into the water. Cautious not to get entangled in the sheets and shrouds, he dived to the top located about two meters under the surface, to loosen the blocked sheave. He had to dive a couple of times before he finally succeeded. On his way back he convinced himself that the main sail was not stuck anywhere and, whistling happily, he hoisted himself back on the boat. With the help of Jane they succeeded, not effortless, to retrieve the main sail and later on the jib.
Armed with a pair of pincers, a hacksaw and a short axe he returned to the mid deck. One by one he clipped the stays which disappeared into the water with a whippy ziiing. With the axe he chopped the remaining sheets and, taking care not to damage the teak deck, removed with the saw the twisted mast step. The aluminium tore and with some well aimed stamps the mast came loose and slid into the deep.
The Port of Call levelled surprisingly fast and Jane and Pieter had to clutch to the rails not to be thrown overboard on the other side.
“Wow, that went well,” Jane shouted while she straightened up, holding herself to Pieter, “let's hope the engine will start.”
Without the mast and the stays it was not so evident to walk on the boat, even with a modest swell. Walking was rather shuffling sideways on hands and knees till they reached the cabin entrance. Pieter kicked the debris aside and put his head in the engine compartment. Despite the hard work of the bilge pump, there was some water in the engine room. He checked again and saw that the engine, mounted on large rubber blocks, stood above the waterline and that batteries and electrical installation looked dry enough. “OK, you can start the engine” he shouted to Jane who had taken place in front of the steering wheel.
With Pieter bent over to check on the engine, Jane pushed the start button. After some attempts it sputtered and gradually warmed up. The bilge pump immediately ran faster now that it did no longer have to function on the practically empty batteries.
Pieter closed the hatch and climbed the four stairs to stand next to Jane. “Can you already enter the coordinates in the auto pilot? It is 6°40' South and 71°21' East. Meanwhile I will attach the Zodiac to the aft.”
When he came back he returned behind the wheel an
d pushed the large stainless steel gas lever. Slowly the Port of Call moved and after she reached her cruising speed, Pieter engaged the auto pilot. She was still heavy to handle, but that would change with the water completely pumped. Pieter zoomed in on the GPS chart to verify the course and cross checked the direction with the large oil compass just behind the helm stand.
He looked at Jane who was wrestling with her hair blowing in all directions. She had unfolded the table between the twin steering columns and looked content. She was obviously pleased that the ship was saved, although it looked like an odd iron without the mast. Pieter joined her: “at this speed, it will take us a couple of hours. Do you have any cards to kill the time?”
Jane smiled. “Yes, but they are probably floating somewhere in the cabin. It will be a nightmare to get everything dry.”
She paused. “I realize that, unlike my sister this morning, I have not yet thanked you for our rescue. And thanks for the hospitality. I can imagine that someone who has been used to live on his own may have some issues with visitors.”
Pieter shook his head: “no worries, it has indeed been a welcome diversion in a rather boring existence. But then again, I did kind of choose it.”
Jane quickly took up on the last sentence: “yes indeed, I was already wondering how you ended up here. A broken love? An escape from an eventful past? Do you want to share the juicy details of your life?”
“Would you believe me if I said that it is still a mystery to me?”
“No,” she answered dryly.
“Yet it is the truth. One blue Monday my editor-in-chief called me in his office informing me about my move. My recent articles and interviews on some touchy subjects had made some influential people angry. Those were the times that one wondered about freedom of press. Publishing companies went down because of the many legal cases they received each time a critical voice was raised on some high ranked politician or business man. My new assignment was to leave for the Egmont islands to report on the execution of the decade old agreement by the British government to proclaim the Chagos Archipelago as one of the largest marine reserves. What the hell did I know about marine reserves? Hundred of young biologists would have died to get a job like than. The argument was that they did not need another biologist, but a man to keep a watchful eye on the many research vessels and that these would not be disguised fishing ships.”
“That must have kept you very busy,” Jane remarked sarcastically. She stood up and made her way to the outside galley. She unlocked a small refrigerator and took out a bottle of champagne and glasses. She passed the bottle to Pieter. “Careful when you open it. It might burst like a formula 1 celebration. Jackie and I wanted to save it for our party after finishing the first leg of our trip. But I guess salvaging the yacht is a better reason.”
He opened the bottle cautiously but still the champagne gushed out, spilling over the deck.
“Oh well, in Greece they always spill the first drop to thank the earth and the gods for all the great things that sprout from them. We have now said grace to Neptune.”
Pieter continued: “believe it or not, I was quite occupied. First there was the restoration of the house by the engineering troops of Diego. For them it was a welcome challenge compared to plopping down barracks. And then the base closed down for research-vessels so they all arrived at my place. Thankfully they disappeared soon once they realised that I could not offer them each day eggs or pancakes for breakfast. One thing is certain on a remote US naval base: you get pampered. I also believe that by that time the interest in Chagos and its marine wildlife was back to an all-time low. Researchers also follow the money, you know.”
“But why did you accept this transfer? Surely they could not force you to go?” Jane asked.
“Investigative journalism is about uncovering things. But it is also about making people think independently. Making them realize that sometimes they are manipulated by churches, by religion, by politics, banks, by newspapers and by other people. That their freedom can just be an illusion. To show people that things get covered up. Apparently I uncovered a bit too much. So the court cases started to pour in, followed by threats and blackmail.”
“You could be blackmailed?”
Pieter laughed and filled the glasses again. “Not me. But when the people around you receive threats, than you need to take up your responsibilities. So my editor received a letter, followed by a certain phone call. He had to stop me or the agency would be closed. The letter came from the shareholders. The independent media is big business like any other business. And having a thousand people on the street would not look good on my bosses resume. So, my research team got dismantled and I was kindly asked to keep myself busy with the Chagos islands. Now, I have to admit there was a carrot. Because two things were happening. The first was the official assignment to keep an eye on the reserve. But the second thing was the ump-teenth promise by the British government that the original population, at least their grand children, could return to Diego and the surrounding atolls. Unofficially I was treading into the footsteps of John Pilger who had decades ago unveiled this twentieth century scandal of modern mass deportation. However, I did underestimate the investigation in isolation. Despite all of the modern communication, I soon was forgotten by the editors or at best, regarded as a nasty bug which was thankfully thousands of miles away.”
Jane sipped from her glass. “I have not seen too much of an indigenous population on Diego. Or did I miss them?”
“No, in all silence the plan was swept under the carpet. The de-militarization of Diego should have paved the way. But as you heard from Jonathan, that changed abruptly again. For years there has not been such a high military activity on the island. The few natives who had returned were kicked off again. Even Jonathan does not know what is going on. Especially his new commander likes to keep things to himself.”
There was a silence. They admired the bubbles in the champagne.
Reflectively Pieter said after a while: “I guess the positive thing is that one becomes more philosophical when living secluded.”
“No, that is just you getting older,” she teased him.
“Probably too. But seriously, you have all the time to think about life, what you have done with it or not have done with it.”
“So what has become your life philosophy? Stoicism? Romanticism? Liberalism?”
“I think I would describe it as plain humanism. In its purest form. The absolute focus on freedom. I once read a treaty by Reese, it dated back from nineteen hundred twenty or so. It was simply called "Humanism". So far it has been the most comprehensive little book that explains the essence of humanism. The style is a bit outdated, but he touches upon the essence and the essential questions. For instance: how do you combine individual freedom with rules governing a society? In my absolute freedom, I am allowed to kill someone. But that person, in his absolute freedom has the right to live. Those juxtapositions are the basis of a balanced but dynamic society. That is also what I blame every religion. They don't respect the individual freedom by, one, forcing people's thinking into a singular direction and two, by displaying a sort of resignation that all will be solved by an unknown god. Those elements kill free intelligent thinking. Why do you think that science and religion have been water and fire for centuries? Even today? But the worst part of religion is the urge to convert the others. It is nothing else than a way of overpowering the other.”
“So you don't believe in a God?”
“I believe in the physical law of the preservation of energy. Our lives, our existence, it is all part of a larger entity. When we die, our energy goes up in our surrounding. Sometimes that goes very smoothly and the energy gets evenly distributed. Sometimes it is shocking and the energy leaves in bursts, glued together. Maybe sometimes with some memory. That viewpoint can be the explanation of a lot of things ranging from reincarnation, speaking with the deceased and even the unexplained phenomenon of people who believe they were a soldier in a previous life
or suddenly start to speak another language. Anyway, enough about me. What about you, do you believe in a god?”
“I am a simple translator, Pieter. Yes, I believe there is a God who watches over us and takes care of us.”
“But isn't that a bit deterministic? If that God of yours decides on what is happening, where is your freedom? It is like predictions. If there is such a thing like predictions, than free will does not exist. Everything has been plotted out and no matter what you do, it was your determination to do so. This leads to phlegmatic thinking and, quite frankly, passivity. Or the theory of the infinite parallel universes.”
“No, I don't see it like that. God is not determining my life. I am in charge of what I am doing. You call it energy, I call it God. Who made your energy in the first place? The big bang? And who made the big bang or are you also making it easy like most of the big bang theorists that that is not a subject of investigation because there was nothing before the big bang? Avoiding the discussion what is nothing."
“So why could energy not just be? Most religions don't question that their God just is. Honestly, we don't even really grasp what energy is. Is it a wave, a collection of vibrating strings?”
Jane laughed, “well, if God equals energy and energy equals mc square, than God is mass multiplied by the speed of light squared. Problem solved. Me happy, you happy, Einstein happy.”
Pieter was not impressed: “I have seen that one before. Surely it is not that simple.”
Jane sighed, “that was a joke, Pieter. Don't get caught up in your deadly earnest.”
He smiled and relaxed. “You are absolutely right Jane. Let's talk about the lighter things in life. Tell me about your love life.”
“That, my dear, is none of your business. And now I will exercise my freedom to retreat and tan on the deck while you can bring me safely to your shed.”
She swayed on her feet. “Good champagne, I can already feel it in my head.”
* * *
The Abacus Equation Page 11