The Gulf War had scared away the tourists from Bunaken Island and I had the coral cliffs all to my self. I was the only traveler at the dining room. After a week of desolate free diving with sea turtles I returned to Manado to catch a Pelni liner rounding the Northern Arm of Sulawesi.
I was the only ‘Mistah’ on the liner traveling 2nd class and had a four bunk cabin to myself.
I drank beer with the lower classes and dined alone in the state room, as we cruising along Sulawesi’s desolate jungled shore. Sea, beaches, coconut trees. I was good to be at sea. My family had whaled off these islands throughout the 1800s. My Uncle Dave had served on a destroyer in the Pacific. We made long stops in isolated ports on Sulawesi and Borneo. The people here were Bugis, famed pirates and head-hunting Dayaks from interior of Borneo. I didn’t get off the ship. It was my home. I knew no one ashore. Nowhere. No one.
After div