CHAPTER 39
Batavia Marina
Jakarta, Indonesia
Harto put his arm around his wife and gathered his son and daughter at his side. They stood on the wooden dock at the marina where Harto had retrieved the boat the soldier had told him about. The four of them beheld the machine, no one saying a word. It sparkled. It all still seemed like a dream to Harto. The boat was the most beautiful thing he’d seen since his wife on their wedding day.
“It’s ours,” he said.
“How Harto?”
“The soldier man gave it to me.”
His wife ran a hand along the boat, maybe to see if it was truly real. “It’s almost too nice to fish in.”
The boat was a mini-yacht. At 60 feet, it was capable of travel between the small islands off Java. It could hold up to thirty people above deck and sleep as many as eight below deck in the master stateroom, port guest stateroom, and aft guest stateroom. The upper deck and flybridge would give breathtaking views.
“We’re not going to fish with it,” Harto said. “We’re going to take others fishing. The foreigners living here and the tourists. They pay lots of money for this — to go fishing in the deep sea. And for other things: diving and touring the islands.”
His wife looked from Harto to the boat, then back again, as if trying to assess whether it would work or maybe how much work it would be for her. “You going to finally learn English, Harto?”
“I’ll have to. There aren’t enough fish in the sea to feed all the Jakartan fisherman. Entertainment is the future.”