Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Out of the black, I heard Gavin screaming in rage. His fear turned to anger, and his anger
turned to aggression. He whaled into the marauding local kick boxers in the confines of the
cock pit. I heard the sickening slap of flesh on flesh, the loud, painful, and angry yelps, the
heavy breathing, the gasping of fighting young men. Out of the blackness, I heard the gun-
shot. Loud and clean. One shot. It rang through the night, and it stopped us in our tracks.
Silence prevailed for a few seconds, and then a loud and very angry voice boomed over the
side of the boat, “What in God's name is going on here?”
It was Kevin. Roused from his sleep, he had heard the commotion and had put two and
two together. He had watched the fight get out of control and had decided to intervene for
the good of both groups. Heavy breathing and glowering in the dark broke the silence after
Kevin's vocal onslaught.
“For fuck's sake you guys, it's the middle of the bloody night! You should know better than
to go ashore and go after the local women! I mean Jesus, guys! I really thought you would
know better than this!”
The fight was successfully broken up, and the local contingent paddled a weary path of re-
treat back to the beach, muttering darkly into the night. Craig silently followed his angry
father back into their dinghy, and they disappeared into the gloom. Gavin and I sat in stony
silence for many minutes. Pain pervaded my head and jaw. My shoulders ached from the
sun burn; my breath was ragged and painful from cracked ribs. I had nothing to say. I could
not blame him for a single thing. There go I but for the grace of Penny. I limped below and
passed out for the remainder of the night. What a day!
Would anybody believe me if I told them that in the morning the local, young men that were
involved in the fight the night before rowed out to our boat with wide dazzling smiles? The
one young lad had his arm wrapped in a raggedy bandage. I don't believe they had ever
had so much fun in their sheltered lives! They brought with them gifts of pork crackling,
lobsters, and shells of magnificent designs and colors and offered them up on deck. They
grinned and shook our hands and were so openly friendly; it would have brought tears to
the hardest soul. Gavin embraced one of them, and there were definitely damp eyes. They
could not understand our words or we theirs, but who needed words? We became lifelong
friends in the twinkling of a fight. Even the chief, accompanied by his entourage along
with several other canoes carrying women and children, paddled out and warmly shook our
hands, gruffly saying “Bula, bula, mahanga palangi.” Polynesians are a warlike nation, and
they must have recognized something warlike in us that night; there was mutual respect,
and then some.
After their visit to our boat the excited villagers paddled over to Kevin's boat, and we
could see the process being repeated. What an unpredictable turn of events. It seemed to go
