by Sam Tabalno
tink we can get dis freaking boat back to shore!”
“I don’t think so either, S’mael. What are we going to do?”
“I dunno!”
“I tell you what, S’mael. You’re the captain of the ship, so you can go down with the boat,” Mando joked.
“Definitely not, you jerk! You be captain of da ship, as it was yo’ idea. You bigga den me, and because of yo fat haole butt, we going to sink.”
“Let’s go!”
Quickly, Mando and I jumped, even without life vests, and began our long swim back to shore. As we swam closer, we could see that there was definitely a mob there, growing larger by the minute. Every face was stunned, and many of the people were pointing in our direction. We had no choice but to swim back to the spot where the entourage had gathered. Among them were the police and the boat owner, along with several fascinated spectators.
“Hey, guys. What the heck you think you were doing with Mr. Paka’s boat?” asked an officer as he met us at the edge of the water.
“Officer, we just borrowing it for a little bit and was going bring it back,” I chimed in before Mando could say anything more incriminating or stupid.
“But you didn’t have Mr. Paka’s permission to take his boat in the first place.”
Mr. Paka was standing silently, with his arms folded in front of his chest, staring at us with a disapproving glare. He did not appear to be happy.
“Mr. Paka, do you want to press charges on these boys for taking your boat?”
Mr. Paka continued to glare at us, and Mando and I shivered as the air grew suddenly chilly.
“We neva mean to make trouble, Mr. Paka,” I said, bowing my head in shame.
Mr. Paka continued to stare, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Eh, I know you,” he said, pointing a meaty finger at me, still staring me right in the eyes. “You have one sister named Bonnie, with a husband name Nacio?” he asked inquisitively.
Of course I loved my sister, but I had no idea if my link to her would bode well for me or not in that situation, because I didn’t know how Mr. Paka knew her. I lowered my head again and mumbled, “Yeah, my sister and brother-in-law.”
“Eh,” he said after a long pause. “You guys know you not suppose to take anybody’s boat without asking. You lucky nobody got hurt.”
“Yeah, we know. Sorry, Mr. Paka. Won’t happen again,” I said with remorse.
Mr. Paka turned to the uniformed man and said, “Officer Talapit, is okay. I no going press charges. Just let them go.”
“But, Mr. Paka, what about your boat?”
“It’s okay, Officer. My son getting his fishing boat out dere and going tow it back in.” He gestured to the shore farther down, where a huge fishing boat was unmooring from a dock.
We stayed and watched as the fishing boat approached the tiny dinghy that was bobbing on the waves like a child’s toy in a bathtub. He threw a rope and attached it to the dinghy, then climbed back aboard the fishing boat and towed the little vessel in. We stayed and talked with Officer Talapit and Mr. Paka who, as it turned out, was the cousin of my brother-in-law, Nacio. It really did come in handy sometimes to live on a small island with a population of no more than 20,000; most people knew someone who knew me. We finally came to an amicable settlement right there on the shore: some good-sized fish for Mr. Paka’s family the next time my friends and I went spear-fishing. We shook hands in agreement on the penalty for our trespass and parted as friends.
Since I was often bored by school, I was always on the lookout for the next adventure. Thus, I earned the reputation of being somewhat of a rebel, even though that was never my intent. Truthfully, I just wanted to have fun, and we certainly had plenty of it. There were many more spine-tingling adventures over the years, like our ghostly encounter during a night spear-fishing excursion, and there was summer love as well, but that’s a different story…
About the Author
Pineapple Sam is the character who embodies the life and stories of Ismael Tabalno, who grew up on the shores of the beautiful Garden Island of Kauai in the Hawaiian Islands. He later ventured outward in the world to embark on many fascinating adventures. Pineapple Sam loved to “talk story” as they say on the islands and decided to write his stories as a hobby. Now many of his friends, family, and readers like you, can share in his adventures.