I work on one of those “booze cruises” you find at tourist destinations on the coast. Yesterday morning, we got lost. There’s no real way to make it make sense to you, but when our group of 20 reboarded the boat after our allotted hour of snorkeling, the mainland was nowhere in sight.
Our ship’s captain had spent the first part of the tour drooling over a group of American college girls. Neglecting his duties, like maintaining the ship’s position, he jumped in after them when we reached our snorkel spot. We try to switch our snorkel locations every trip, and this happened to be a recently green-lit area by our company. We didn’t notice our unlatched anchor or the changing scenery or how our engine had mysteriously terminated when I assume a current brought us to where we are now.
We are beached. On what island? I can’t say. But it must not be one that any government entities are aware of. If any did, I’m sure they’d have nuked it or sunk it to the bottom of the sea or at least placed mile-high walls around it.
Not much time now to delve into that, but we have a strict stay-on-the-boat policy. I’m sure we’ll get to that eventually.
A song of mutiny plays from the ship next to us.
“Talk to me, friends. Don’t do this!”
Sounds like Daniel.
Upon arrival at the island that the ocean’s waters seemed to guide us to, we found another boat, ironically another booze cruise from the resort next door. From what they told us, their captain had suddenly changed course, and silent in the face of the crew’s questioning, brought the boat to the island. Without a word, their captain disembarked and wandered into the lush growth further up the shore. That was three days ago.
Daniel, second-in-charge like myself, replaced their captain when he didn’t return. They realized the ship’s engine had somehow been disabled, much like ours and had been stuck there for a day before we arrived.
Last night before bed, a mother and daughter disappeared from their ship. The crew had to tie the husband behind the all-inclusive bar when his frantic accusations became violent threats. Deciding that we would begin a thorough search in the morning, we settled into the hard wood of the ship to sleep.
He would again disturb the night to shriek about the person who wasn’t real.
Now awake, we demanded to know what the commotion was for. We have the well beings of our own passengers to look after. I could see across the ten meters of water separating our ships, how he cowered behind his hands and kicked the air in self-defense.
Daniel told us through the radio. The husband wouldn’t stop insisting how there was an extra aboard their ship. While everyone was sleeping, this “extra” woke the husband and told him about what was happening to his wife and child on the island.
A headcount returned the same number of tourists and crew that had originally boarded, minus the missing mom and daughter. Daniel threatened to gag him if he continued his disturbances.
The husband replied by telling him to check the bathroom below deck. Confused, Daniel would refuse until the husband was grabbing at his feet and begging him.
Inside the cramped wash closet was a full set of clothes crudely stuffed into the waste basket as well as clumps of hair that clogged the toilet and sink. On the floor, one of the crew mates noticed shavings layering the ground, similar to dandruff.
I could see Daniel’s authority on his ship waver as the rumors and theories spread among its passengers like a virus. What I never would have expected is that, by sunrise, there would be a full-blown mutiny.
Our ladders are raised and we have everyone on our boat stowed below deck. The sounds of the mutiny are dying, and Daniel stopped pleading a while ago. Our crew is deliberating on our next course of action but we can’t agree. For now, we need to wait.
I’m looking through one of the portholes below deck and I think I can see someone on the island. They might be waving but it’s tough to really make out.
Hopefully, someone can find us soon.