CHAPTER 26
Pesanggrahan River
Jakarta, Indonesia
The fishermen paddled the boat down the river, toward the Java Sea. The fishing had been good the last several days, and they had brought extra nets — all they had in fact. The boat sagged with the weight, riding lower in the water than it normally did. If things went well, they would return as the sun set, dragging the nets behind the boat, full of fish, enough for their small family and enough to sell at the market.
Harto watched his son Eko paddling at the front of the boat, and pride washed over him. Soon, Harto would retire and Eko would do the fishing. Then, in time, Eko would take his son out, just like this, just like Harto’s father had taught him to fish.
He hoped it would be so. Lately, Harto had begun to worry that this would not be the way things would come to pass. Every year there were more boats — and less fish. They fished longer each day and yet their nets carried fewer fish. Harto pushed the thought from his mind. Good fortune comes and recedes, just like the seas; it was the way of things. He must not worry over things past his control.
His son stopped paddling. The boat started to turn.
Harto yelled to him, “Eko, you must paddle, the boat will turn if we don’t paddle evenly. Pay attention.”
“There’s something in the water, Papa.”
Harto looked. There was… something black, floating. A man. “Paddle quickly, Eko.”
They pulled up beside him, and Harto reached out, grabbed him, and tried to pull him into the narrow boat loaded with nets. He was too heavy. He wore some kind of shell. But the shell floated. Some special material. Harto turned the man over. A helmet, and goggles — they had covered his nose, kept him from drowning.
“A diver, papa?”
“No, he’s… a policeman, I think.” Harto tried to pull him into the boat again, but it nearly tipped over. “Here Eko, help me.”
Together, Father and Son dragged the water-logged man into the boat, but as soon as he cleared the side, the boat began taking on water.
“We’re sinking, Papa!” Eko looked about nervously.
Water rushed over the boat’s side. What to throw out? The man? The river flowed to the sea, he would surely die there. They couldn’t drag him, not far. The water rushed in more quickly now.
Harto eyed the nets, the only other thing with any weight in the boat. But they were Eko’s inheritance — the only wealth his family had, their only means of survival, of putting food on their table.
“Throw the nets over, Eko.”
The young boy followed his father’s orders without question, throwing the nets over one-by-one, feeding his birthright to the slow-moving river.
When most of the nets were gone, the water stopped, and Harto slumped back into the boat, staring with absent eyes at the man.
“What’s wrong, Papa?”
When his father said nothing, Eko scooted closer to him and the man they had rescued. “Is he dead? Did—”
“We must get him home. Help me paddle, son. He may be in some trouble.”
They turned the boat and paddled back up the river, against the current, toward Harto’s wife and daughter, who would be preparing to clean and store the fish they brought back. There would be no fish today.