Fall 2000 Charles River Review: Out of Hand

Thomas threw out a line to the dock and jumped down from the small sailboat. He spun around when he landed and put out his foot to keep the boat from colliding with the wood. Stella smiled indulgently at him from the bow. He extended his hand and said, "Madame, paradise awaits."

After setting sail from Singapore, making their way southeast along the coasts of Sumatra and Java, then weaving their way through several tiny groups of islands, they had finally arrived in Bali. During their three weeks at sea, everyone they met told them to head straight for Kuta on the south tip of the island. It was one of the most unspoiled beaches in the Pacific.

Thomas and Stella walked down the dock and stopped to talk to two men squatting down playing chess underneath a tarp near the beach. "Boat? Safe?" Thomas said to the European one with his biggest smile, gesturing toward the end of the dock where there were about ten boats.

"Are you asking about your boat?" the man said in perfect English. He was British.

"Will our boat be safe out here?"

"It will if I watch it. Two rupiahs for the week," the man said.

"We don't have rupiahs. We have pounds," Thomas said, fumbling to get out his wallet.

"What am I going to do with pounds?" the man said, standing up.

"Can I just give you a pound for this week?"

"This is Wayan. He's the one who'll actually be watching your boat," he said, taking the money and signaling toward the other man, who was smaller, darker skinned, and in his sixties.

"He's Indonesian? Does he speak English?"

"Yes, he's Indonesian. He doesn't speak English."

Stella let Thomas negotiate the price while she looked around at the beach and at Wayan. The small man was intently watching whichever man was speaking at the moment. When they finished negotiating, Wayan put his palms together over his heart and bowed slightly as if to seal the deal somehow.

"What's he doing? Praying?" said Stella.

The Englishman squinted towards Stella, as if noticing her for the first time. "Don't know much about Bali? He's Hindu. It's hello and goodbye. They all do it. You do it too." He put his hands together over his heart, bowed to Wayan, to Stella, then to Thomas.

Thomas repeated the gesture, and Stella followed suit. He said, "I'm Thomas, and this is my wife, Stella. What's your name?"

"Andrew," he said.

"We're going to find a place to stay and we'll be back." Thomas and Stella headed off toward the small group of buildings at the end of the beach. Stella looked back over her shoulder. Wayan was watching. When their eyes met, he bowed slightly. She stopped and returned the gesture.

The beach stretched out as far as they could see on either side of the dock. The sand glowed gold and drew out the richness of the colors around it. Stella's eyes adjusted slowly to the vibrancy of the island--the blue of the sky, the greens and browns of the trees where the sand met the jungle. There were several small clusters of white sunbathers and surfers up and down the sand. Some had brought big canvas umbrellas off their boats. Some were using native umbrellas--woven from the dry, brown leaves of the local trees--that they had bought from Balinese women selling on the beach.

"I never saw any Indians bowing to each other like that, and we lived there for a long time," Stella said as they trudged through the sand toward the cluster of hotels.

"What are you talking about?" said Thomas.

"How am I supposed to know how the Balinese greet each other? I don't think it has anything to do with them being Hindu."

"Uh-huh," he said between heavy breaths.

The two had just been married at his parents' house in Hong Kong. This was their honeymoon, a sail to Bali in the boat Thomas had built with his father. His parents and hers had hoped they would go to London to see relatives who had not been able to come east for the wedding, but they rejected that idea out of hand. When it had first come up, Stella waited a few days before telling her mother no, that they wanted to do something more adventurous. She said earnestly, "I don't want to start our marriage visiting stuffy family and minding my manners. I want to get to know Tom, to have fun."

It took about ten minutes to walk to the hotels, all somewhat dilapidated leftovers from the '30s. They could still see the boat from where they stood, but Wayan and Andrew had shrunk to specks in the distance. A low fence, narrow boards held together with wire, surrounded the buildings. The hotels seemed similar. All had names that matched unfamiliar Indonesian words with hotel. They looked back and forth at the signs.

"Let's try this one. Puri Indah Hotel. It sounds good. Like pure," said Stella.

"Okay. But I don't think 'puri' means pure," said Thomas.

"How do you know? It could," she replied, moving toward the shaded doorway. "I can't wait to sleep in a real bed tonight."

Thomas followed her into a small room with a desk. Stella stepped up to the counter. She rang the bell once and looked around expectantly. No one came. She rang again. Still no one.

"Looks like we're back on the boat," said Thomas.

"Let's try the next one before we run right back to the boat."

They stepped back out into the sun and shielded their eyes from the glare off the sand. A man was sitting under a coconut tree outside.

"Need hotel?" He pressed his hands together and bowed forward.

Stella awkwardly tried to do the same, but her fingertips folded together until she was clasping her own hands. "Yes, do you know of a nice one?"

"Yes, nice. Come." He turned back toward the way they had come and started down the beach, carefully staying in the shade of the jungle that touched the sand.

"Do you think this is a good idea?" said Thomas.

"Well, if it doesn't work out, we'll just come back here."

"If he doesn't kill us first," said Thomas.

"Oh, come on. Everyone says how friendly the Indonesians are. And the Balinese. They're not even Muslim. They're Hindu."

"Like the Indians, right?"

"Let's go see."

They started down the beach behind the man, trying to step where he stepped to avoid the rays of the sun. Thomas called to Stella to look at the trees: coconut and palm trees and others they'd never seen before. Thomas was convinced they were jackfruit trees even though he didn't know what a jackfruit was. They stopped every ten meters or so to step in and out of the brush, to get closer to small fruits growing on vines that curled around the base of most of the trees. Thomas bent over to look at what he thought must be the largest anthill he'd ever seen.

Stella bent over as well, but then stood up, slightly disgusted by the swarming insects. She looked toward where they'd left the boat. Wayan was watching their slow progress. She put her hands together and bowed forward in his direction, then looked up expectantly. Wayan had not moved. She looked down at Thomas who had gotten to his hands and knees, then she turned back to Wayan. He moved his head slowly. Stella realized he was watching the man leading them to the hotel. Wayan slowly put his hands together and bowed toward the man. Stella looked up ahead and saw the man stop, turn toward the ocean, and repeat the gesture. Then he turned toward the jungle and disappeared.

"Tom, come on. We can come back here. We're never going to catch up."

When she got to where the man had vanished into the jungle, Stella gasped. She had expected a path, but instead the man had turned into a clearing. A row of trees between the clearing and the beach made it private. The man was standing in the middle of a small circle of thatched-roof huts. He smiled at Stella and said, "Yes. Special hotel."

She looked back toward Thomas and yelled for him to hurry. Even as she continued to look down the beach, she sensed the Indonesian man watching her. She looked back at him and smiled but started to feel a little nervous. It seemed that the three of them were alone. It's fine, she tried to tell herself. There's nothing to be afraid of. We can still see other people out on the beach. And they can see us. And Thomas is bigger than he is, she thought, as her husband moved up beside her.

"Wow! It's amazing. Live like the Indonesians live," he said. He walked toward the nearest hut and ducked down to peer through the doorway. "Stell, come here. You've got to see this." She approached and looked in.

The ceiling was almost double Thomas' height. She had expected the circular hut to have something on the floor to sleep on, at best, so she was surprised to see it had a Western-style bed with sparkling white sheets. From the height of the hut's ceiling, a mosquito net hung down over the bed and was tucked in between the mattress and the frame.

The man came up behind them. He said, "See, special."

Thomas looked at Stella. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful. I really want to sleep somewhere that isn't rocking tonight."

"So, you approve," he said. Turning to the man, "How much?" He rubbed his thumb against his first two fingers.

The man held up three fingers. "Rupiah," he said.

"I don't have rupiah," said Thomas. He pulled a bill from his pocket. "Pounds?"

The man pursed his lips together. He nodded slowly.

"I need to get my things from the boat," said Stella.

Thomas pointed toward the boat, pulled his sweat-dampened shirt away from his chest to indicate clothing, and started back toward the beach.

"Pak Thomas," the man said. "Kadek go." He scurried across the sand toward the dock.

Thomas and Stella spent most of the day on the beach. Kadek brought them an umbrella woven from palm leaves with a slim tree trunk as a handle. He also brought water and fresh mangoes pulled from a tree hanging almost directly over their small cottage. He came to check on them every hour to see if they needed anything. Every time Stella turned around, he was right at the edge of the jungle waiting to fulfill whatever need she might have.

Stella and Thomas moved back and forth between the shaded oasis provided by the umbrella and the ocean. Tom played close to the water, swimming and leaping as the waves crashed against the beach. Stella knew she was getting burned, so she stayed under the umbrella and watched her new husband. He loved the water much more than she did. They had been at sea for just three weeks; she hoped they could extend their stay on the island for as long as possible.

The combination of the cramped space on the boat and the intimacy between her and a man she still didn't know extremely well made her anxious during the first weeks of their trip. In the beginning, relaxing while he manipulated the sails and machinery made her feel pampered and amenable to anything he might suggest. But when she became bored and asked him to teach her to sail, he wasn't eager to do so. He surrendered his knowledge slowly and stingily. In spite of her ready, almost constant smile, she began to resent him for keeping her in the role of first mate.

And so Stella was pleased with herself for meeting Kadek, for following him and finding what she imagined to be a perfect compromise between her need to sleep in a real bed and his need to be close to the water. Compromise, her mother told her all the time, was what marriage was about. Until now, she felt she'd done most of the compromising.

As the sun was setting, she started to wonder what they would do for the night, what they would eat. They made their way across the sand back to the hotel. Kadek ran out to where they'd been sitting and gathered up their chairs and umbrellas. As they neared the doorway of their hut, he said, "Bath? Food?"

Stella and Thomas looked at each other, and she said, "I'd love to be really clean. Why don't we bathe, then eat in a little while?" Turning back to Kadek, she answered, "Yes, bath then food," circling her hands to show the passage of time.

"One minute, Ibu Stella, Pak Thomas," he said and disappeared into one of the other huts. He emerged with two towels and a bar of soap. Once again, he motioned to them. "Come."

It would be dark in an hour or so. Stella was a little worried about where they were going with so little light, but Kadek led them to a footpath on the far side of the compound. The path weaved through thick jungle and heavy underbrush. She looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was following. She watched Kadek's body to see if he had any weapons. Finally, when her heart was pounding, and she was convinced they were dead, they turned the corner and arrived at a waterfall.

If she had dreamed of an exotic, tropical place before their trip, it would have been this. A waterfall dropped into a large pool of clear green water. The uppermost pool then spilled into a series of smaller ones and slowly cascaded into a small river that moved toward the interior of the island. Lush trees overhung the area, many dipping their leaves and branches toward the surface of the water. Kadek led them to a small, cleared area and put the towels down on a log that had fallen sometime before. "I wait up here," he said, and ascended a steep path that led to the top of the hill. It seemed to Stella that they were in a canyon.

At first they moved tentatively into the water, expecting some animal to nip at their toes, or worse. But after swimming for ten minutes, they took off their shoes and suits and let the water wash all the sand and dirt away. Thomas came up behind Stella and put his hands over her breasts, pulling her toward him.

"Tom, no."
"It's our honeymoon."
"Thomas, not now. Kadek is right there."
"He's not watching."
"Well, he can hear us."
"He doesn't speak English."
"No. Come on. Bathe now."
"I've already bathed, Mum." He released her.
"Sorry. Tonight. Okay?"
"I just thought it would be romantic."
"I just feel a little nervous right now."
"Why?" He swam around her in a circle as she treaded water.
"I don't know. It's strange isn't it?"

Stella woke up to the sound of movement around the compound. The early morning light cast a bluish tinge over the room. At first she shrank up against Thomas, afraid, but when her eyes adjusted, she saw several small monkeys dart past the open doorway. She lay back in bed, listening to the rustling as they moved around the tent and up and down the tent lines. She could hear that they were on the roof from the uneven pitter-patter. She slid out from underneath the covers and slipped out of bed.

The minute she appeared in the doorway, the monkeys scattered, but she pulled a beach chair up to the hut and sat down. After five minutes of stillness, the monkeys resumed their activities with the exception of climbing up the tent line near where she sat. She watched them move around the compound in groups, running apart, then coming back together. From the top of the hut, they were jumping to tree trunks nearby, then flying from branch to branch out into the jungle. She'd never seen anything like it.

Stella sat there for almost an hour before the sun came up, and the monkeys began to disperse. Then she stood up and stepped out into the compound to explore the other huts. She walked by seven or eight open doorways and saw that they were the only people staying there. What a waste, she thought. I wonder how Kadek earns a living. She walked back over to their hut to check on Thomas. Still sleeping. She slipped on a dress and her sandals and started toward the beach. Before she got close to the water, she saw Kadek and Wayan sitting facing the ocean near the dock. She slowed her pace to avoid interrupting them. From where she was, she could hear them chanting something.

She'd read a little about Bali before arriving, books by European artists who'd gone to Ubud in the '30s. From what they wrote, every day the Balinese prepare ritual offerings to the gods with incense and fruit. From the tiny streams of smoke coming up from in front of the men, she guessed that's what they were doing. They pressed their palms together and bowed forward to the tiny, burning package as they chanted. Stella dropped down in the sand to watch.

When they finished, they stood up and started to talk. Both were waving their hands. Stella was out in the open. She worried they would notice her spying on them if she tried to stand up and move away from them. The wind carried their voices as they began to yell. She was crouched in the sand, frozen, when Kadek lifted his hand. He struck Wayan across the face, knocking him on his back. Wayan sat up and put his hand to his cheek as Kadek started toward the hotel. Kadek left him there with his hands on his head.

There was no way for Stella to avoid Kadek now. When their eyes met, he simply stopped, bowed to her, and kept walking.

Stella thought of telling Thomas about the scene on the beach but was afraid that he would overreact and insist they change hotels or, worse, sail immediately. Since their arrival in Bali, the strange tension she felt on the boat had dissipated. Her early morning walks helped her feel independent again. Even though they had barely been there a week, she knew their little section of the island well enough to point out strange insects and new flowers to Thomas when the two went out together later in the day. He treated her as his partner rather than his helper.

Her father had once told her that a honeymoon sets the tone for the whole marriage. She didn't want to ruin their time on Bali. She wanted everything to be perfect. But every time she saw Kadek, she remembered. What had happened, she wondered, even as she felt a twinge of guilt for keeping a secret from her husband. She decided to ask Andrew. Surely he knew something about these people, and she wanted to set her mind at ease. With Wayan watching the boat and Kadek renting them a room, she couldn't help but worry that one of them was untrustworthy. Or worse, both.

While Thomas was swimming, Stella stood up from the chair and left him a note that she had forgotten a book she wanted on the boat. She trekked down the beach near the water, letting the waves wash over her feet. When she got close to the dock, she saw Wayan there, no Andrew. Wayan's face was bruised and bandaged.

She pressed her hands together and bowed toward Wayan, greeting him. He did the same. "Andrew?" she said, making sure that her voice went up on the second syllable to indicate that it was a question.

There were only two boats at the dock, theirs and another one that she didn't recognize. She wondered if the other white people she had seen on the island had left. Wayan pointed toward the other boat tied up on the dock. Stella walked toward it. On the deck sat an Indonesian woman, but no Andrew. She looked back at Wayan and shrugged her shoulders. "Andrew!" she called out. He poked his head up from down below.

"Oh, hello!" she said.

"Hello," he said, and added something in Indonesian to the woman. Without a word, she hopped down to the dock and walked toward Wayan.

"Is everything okay with the boat?" he inquired.

"Yes. The boat's fine."

"Yes?" he said, cocking his head to one side and looking at her curiously.

"Well, I saw Wayan and the man who runs our hotel arguing on the beach the other day," she said, wondering if Andrew sensed her nervousness.

"You're staying down in those huts, right?"

"Yes," she answered, wondering how he knew.

"Wayan and I don't talk about his family."

"They're family?"

"Kadek is Wayan's son."

"That explains how they know each other at least," feeling a small rush of relief at having discovered some information.

"Okay then," Andrew said, and started to go back down below. He looked at her, hoping their conversation had finished.

"Where did everyone go?" she continued.

"They went on to some other islands, I think. I didn't ask." He paused for a moment. "You should be careful."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what's going on in Jakarta, no?" he said, almost reluctant to continue.

"We've been at sea for three weeks. I don't know what's going on anywhere."

"There's been a coup. The military's taking over everything."

"Java's far away."

"It's all one country, you know. There've been a lot of killings all over the place. Anybody who was with the old government's having problems."

"Oh."

"Wayan used to be involved with local government here. I think his son's in the military. At least, he used to be," Andrew said slowly, as if to himself.

"Do you think we're safe?"

Andrew looked directly at Stella. "I doubt they'd kill any white people, but you never know. These new guys hate Sukarno, but they hate the Dutch more."

"We're not Dutch," she shot back.

"How do they know that?"

Stella and Thomas spent their seventh day in Bali in a small village about an hour's walk from the hotel. Kadek had approached them after breakfast and repeated his now familiar gesture, indicating they should follow him. Thomas was going to resist the excursion, but she grabbed her satchel and walked out of the hut before he could mount any serious resistance. "Come on," she called and started down the footpath without looking after her to see that her husband was following.

She had told Thomas about her conversation with Andrew but mentioned only the part about a coup in Jakarta. She kept the information about Kadek and Wayan to herself. Once she knew they were father and son, the situation seemed clearer. Whatever they had argued about on the beach was a family affair. It didn't have anything to do with her and Thomas. She didn't have to tell Thomas. They could continue their trip as if it had never happened.

They spent most of the morning in the marketplace tasting fruits and vegetables they'd never seen before. The old women working at the stalls repeated the names over and over for them. Stella caught on quickly, spelling the words in her mind to remember the names, and repeating them easily to the delight of the women. Thomas didn't remember anything. As soon as they'd moved on to the next stall, he'd forget the name of the first fruit. Stella soon joined the Indonesian women, saying the words three, four, five times for him. Finally, she was frustrated with the game, and they moved on.

Stella entered a small covered area full of fabrics: blues, pinks, greens, every color she could imagine. There were bolts of cloth and clothing that had already been made. Many were trimmed in gold or had flecks of gold. Stella picked through the sarongs until she found a blue one with gold swirls. She turned to ask the woman who had the stall how much and was startled to find her right at her elbow. Stella jumped with surprise, and the woman laughed. A group of women gathered by the door laughed with her.

Stella rubbed her fingers together to indicate how much, but the woman shook her head, took the sarong from Stella's hands and unwrapped it. Then she stepped up close to her until Stella could smell a mix of sweat and flowers in her hair and see the strangely white skin of her scalp. She wrapped the sarong around Stella's waist, tying it tightly in a knot Stella was sure she could never imitate.

The woman nodded yes emphatically, smiled, and turned toward the group. They too were smiling and nodding. The woman held up two fingers, and Stella pulled out two rupiahs that Kadek had exchanged for her. Stella slipped off her skirt, tucked it into her bag and wore the sarong back out into the market.

"Gone native, have we?" Thomas asked when he saw her.

"You like it?"

"Yes. It makes more sense on them," he signaled the woman who were still watching them, "than on you, but it's very pretty. Did you bargain?"

"No. Was I supposed to?"

"Yes. They're insulted if you don't bargain."

"They didn't seem insulted. They seemed just fine. All those women were laughing and smiling. They weren't insulted."

"I just heard on my last trip that you were always supposed to bargain, that's all."

"How was I supposed to bargain? We can't communicate at all."

"I don't know."

"It didn't feel right. I followed my instinct. It seems to be working pretty well so far," she snapped. "I found the hotel, and it's fine isn't it?"

"Yes, yes. Stella, it's not important."

"Well, it's important to me. I know what I'm doing, too."

Finally they reached the end of the market, and the small village seemed to fade into the jungle in front of them. They turned to retrace their steps to where Kadek would surely be waiting for them, when a large group of men in green fatigues emerged from a footpath they hadn't seen before. Though the men were dressed alike, they carried a random assortment of weapons ranging from staffs to rifles. A few of the men glanced in their direction, shouted to the others, and all of them looked at Stella and Thomas as they kept walking toward the market. Stella took in short, shallow breaths, and Thomas' grip on her hand tightened. Finally, one of the men shouted something, and the soldiers laughed and looked away.

Stella and Thomas waited a few moments until their hearts stopped pounding, and then made their way back through the market without looking at anything or anyone. Stella noticed everyone was staring at them, but she thought they had probably been staring at them before. She thought about what she'd seen on the beach and about her conversation with Andrew. Why were there armed men roaming around this village?

"What the hell is going on?" Thomas whispered to Stella. She looked toward where he thrust his chin. Kadek was sitting outside the small stand where he'd said he'd be. He was talking with three of the men in uniform. Stella saw him notice them out of the corner of his eye, and all four of the men turned toward them. They pressed their hands together and bowed in their direction. Stella did the same and elbowed Thomas to return the gesture.

"See. They don't mean any harm," she said as much to herself as to him.

They hurried back along the footpath. By this time, Stella knew her way well enough to lead Thomas back. Kadek followed them closely with his head down. "Tonight would be a good night to sleep on the boat. We can get an early start tomorrow," Thomas said.

"Let's stay just the two more days we planned."

"Stella," he raised his voice. "There are militia men roaming the jungle near here. Our hotel owner seems to know them."

"Kadek could have done anything he wanted to us this past week. He had plenty of chances. Nothing's happened."

"We're getting on the boat."

"I want to stay."

"We're not staying," he said. "We should have just moved on to the next island when Andrew told you there'd been trouble. This was a mistake."

She stood in the doorway, watching him gather up their things.

"Are you going to help me pack?" he asked.

"This was not a mistake."

"We're going to the boat as soon as I get these clothes in the suitcase. We'll sail in the morning."

She sat on the bed with her hands folded in her lap and her head down.

Thomas left the money for the nights they had stayed on the bed, grabbed Stella's hand, and pulled her back down the beach toward the boat. When they got there, Wayan was sitting almost exactly where they'd left him. He bowed toward them, greeting them and smiling.

Stella did the same and touched her face once her hands parted. She stopped to take a closer look, trying to ask how he was doing, but Thomas gripped her arm and guided her down the dock and toward the boat. "Come on, Stella."

"But look at Wayan."

"Listen, Wayan will be fine. He lives here. This is his home"

Stella woke up on the boat to the lapping of the waves against the side. It was too dark in the bunk to see anything. She moved carefully to avoid hitting the low ceiling. She could tell Thomas was still asleep from his deep breathing. She threw on her bathrobe and made some tea. With her cup in hand, she climbed the ladder to the deck and sat watching the ocean. Five am. She imagined she was all alone. She turned toward the covered area at the end of the dock. Wayan was asleep there, covered by a blanket and curled on his side, facing the ocean.

She turned back to her tea and the ocean. She still didn't understand what had happened, but she felt sure they hadn't been in danger. Thomas was wrong. They had paid Kadek. All their belongings had been right there. He could have taken anything at any time. He took them all in and out of the jungle, just the three of them. They had been vulnerable with him, and nothing had happened. He didn't need the army to attack them. Something may have been wrong, but it didn't have anything to do with them.

She laid her arm across the railing and put her head down. When she first came up top, she thought she was wide awake, but the rocking of the boat put her back to sleep. She was dozing, drifting between wakefulness but closer to sleep when she heard voices.

Three men moved across the beach with Kadek following behind. Stella couldn't tell at a distance but wondered if they were the same three from the day before. She slipped down from the bench to her knees so she could see the men without being seen. She watched their progress down the beach. Once she realized they were coming toward the dock, she crawled backwards toward the ladder and went down below. "Thomas, Thomas, they're coming," she whispered.

"Who's coming?"

"Those army men. With Kadek."

"Okay, okay," he said, moving naked toward the ladder. "Stay down below."

"No, no. I can help."

"Stay there," he hissed.

He slipped up top, and she followed in spite of his efforts to wave her back. Thomas crawled up where she'd been sitting a few minutes before. The men were closing in on the dock. He turned back to Stella. "We're going to have to cut the lines and go now. Here," he said, opening up the bench and pulling out two knives. "Get to the back of the boat and cut the line to the dock. I'll get the front two."

Stella crawled toward the stern of the boat and started sawing at the line. As she cut the rope, she heard the men's voices growing louder. She went back to the front of the boat where Thomas was. He'd cut his two lines, and the boat was drifting out toward the ocean. Stella stood up on her knees to look through the railing. She imagined the men would now be standing on the dock, watching them.

Instead, they were still at the end of the dock. They had woken Wayan. He was on his knees; one of the men had a gun to his forehead. Stella stood straight up as he fired the gun. They were already 25 meters from the dock. "No! No!" she yelled.

Thomas grabbed her leg and wrestled her down to the deck. Kadek turned at the sound. Without pausing, he pressed his hands together and bowed forward as she and Thomas drifted out to sea.