NO KIDDING, WHAT A COINCIDENCE
We
voyage This Magic Sea
Bound
for Destinations of Knowledge and Understanding
At dawn Freddy discovers a shore bird camped on one of the stern
boxes. It is exhausted. When Freddy goes aft and picks it up it simply spreads its wings
and looks at her. She puts it back in a more comfortable nook and the bird nestles down
patiently while the Moira slides up the east side of the Palau island chain. The bird, a
Far Eastern Curlew, has every right to be tired. It breeds in Siberia and migrates south.
Friend Curlew hops up and flies off just as Moira sails into Korror Harbor at 10:00 AM. We
tie up to the main wharf and wait for the officials. Customs show up after lunch, dressed
in their little costumes of beige and gold buttons. Their big boots (as if they will be
walking for miles) gleam enthusiastically as they clomp aboard, scuffing the deck.
"Your certificate of permission to visit Palau?" The
biggest man thrusts out his hand.
"Uh, permission?" I act dumb. Really, I know we are
supposed to have authority from the High Commissioner of the U.S. Trust Territory in
Saipan and the Commander of the U.S. Navy in Hawaii, to visit Palau.
The two men go into freeze-frame. Both heads slowly turn to look at
me, eyes narrowed with suspicion. We don't have one. Illegal Entry Alert!
"We've had a few problems with our boat. We were not planning
to stop here but were forced to come in to make some emergency repairs. And we have had no
wind so we need to take on fuel and water and supplies." The frozen tableau goes on.
If this is their response to an emergency illegal entry alert it's a good thing nobody is
in a hurry.
I sigh as they both come alive again, but it is a sigh of
resignation as they suddenly can't look at us directly. This means they are going to be
bastards and we are going to be given The Treatment. Oh well, Freddy and I sit down and
let them rant and rave for about a half hour. Actually, Freddy and I are doing them a big
favor. It seems we have made their day. They get to act out their most obnoxious
self-righteous training. We are not allowed off the boat. We can stay in the harbor until
necessary repairs are made. We can have water and supplies delivered to the boat but we
are not allowed ashore for any reason.
They go over this three or four times, working out their
aggressions. Freddy and I look properly abashed, terrified, worried, remorseful as
conditions seem to merit. At last they stomp off the boat. As they get into their car, the
little one spins around and shakes his fist in the air, leaps into the car and they race
away. A big difference from the way they came slothfully creeping up the road and lazily
trooping over here when they arrived. We really should be commended for helping their
morale.
"What was that fist waving bit?" Freddy asks?
"I think he said we'd better not get off the boat." We
laugh. As the dust settles behind the racing customs car, I go forward to check the bow
line. An 18ft outboard skiff zooms up. There is one man in the boat. He slides up to the
wharf just in front of Moira and flips his dock lines ashore. He's done this before. Must
be someone who lives here. He turns and I get a face-on look. Hmmm, he looks familiar. As
the man prepares to leave I call out, "Hey! Are you Doug Faulkner?"
He turns and squints in my direction. "Yeah."
"I'm Richard Chesher." I say.
"No kidding! Yeah? Really? Richard Chesher? Hey, Jeez, what a
coincidence!" He trots over to the Moira. I never met Doug before but I've seen his
big grinning face on the dust jacket of several of his books. We have many mutual friends.
Just before I left Miami, Jerry Greenberg said, "If you stop in Palau, look out for
Doug Faulkner, OK? I mean, look out for him, he's crazy."
Doug is one of the world's best known professional underwater
photographers. So is Jerry Greenberg, whom we affectionately call `the Jewish Cousteau.' I
was Jerry's apprentice until I accidentally whacked him on the head with a SCUBA tank one
day. Doug was at the University of Miami the same time I was. How we missed meeting long
before this is a mystery to me and, it turns out, also to Doug.
"Hey, I'm really glad to meet you after all these years,"
He says as he climbs aboard. He's a big guy, maybe 6'2", well muscled, tanned and
handsome with a boyish sort of charm. He is wearing a blue bathing suit; no shirt, shoes
or hat.
I introduce Freddy and show him around the Moira. "You're not
going to believe this," He gives us an amazed expression. "I'm also on my way to
the Solomons to work with Walter. In fact, I've got a ticket to leave the day after
tomorrow. What luck! See, I've got to take a whole bunch of camera stuff, diving gear, and
my SCUBA compressor with me and I was wondering as I came up to the dock how the hell am I
going to get all that stuff to Malaupaina. And BANG you guys appear! See? That's weird,
but great. I mean, I'll be happy to pay you to carry it for me, OK?"
"Well, Doug, it's even more of a coincidence than you think.
Just as we were coming in the harbor entrance Freddy and I were talking about the trip
down through the Doldrums. We had practically no wind all the way from the Philippines. We
don't have an electric auto pilot, so Freddy and I steered all the way by ourselves. We
were just saying how great it would be to have an extra crew member for the next passage.
Why not cash in your airline ticket and come along with us?"
"Really? Hey, why not? Great idea. OK," he laughs, and we
shake hands on it.
"Is Bob Owen still here?" Bob Owen was a biologist who
used to work for the U.S. Trust Territory in Palau. I met him when I came to Palau in 1969
to do a survey of the Crown of Thorns Starfish.
"Sure. He's still here," Doug answers, "Why?"
I explain about the problem with the port officials. "Maybe Bob
could get us permission to stay in Palau for a week or so."
"Hey, don't worry, that's OK. I'll go see Bob
right now. We can work it out so you can stay as long as you want. What a bunch of
creeps." Doug sets off in search of Bob.
"He's a terrific guy, I wonder why Jerry said he was
crazy?" Freddy muses over dinner.
"Oh, that was just slang. Jerry is crazy as a loon, too. We all
are." I wonder again at the coincidences that brought us together. If Jerry had not
told me Doug was here, I might not have clicked that the guy in the outboard might be him.
Had we been a day later or had he tied up and left his boat an hour earlier we would have
missed him. Since we were not allowed ashore it is unlikely our paths would have crossed.
Had Walter not invited Doug to the Solomons....So many perfectly logical, reasonable
events which somehow vector together towards the here and now. A nice example of how the
Moirae operate. None of the steps are accidental or random, nor are the steps co-ordinated
in any way I can think of. Yet - in the end - the co-ordination is there. Improbable
coincidences come together and our lives are shaped into a new direction.
Over dinner I wax philosophical about possible ways coincidences
might be organized. This is the hard part. Statistical coincidences are easy enough to
work through - and I spend most of the meal explaining how vectors of population behavior
would create evolutionary trends. At some point it dawns on me that Freddy has the most
peculiar dazed expression - glassy eyed - and I summarize with, "Well, it's another
sign post along the way so I guess we must still be going the right direction, right on
schedule."
Freddy seems rather relieved as I focus on my desert. |
