The Rose of Singapore (21 page)

Peter allowed the canoe to drift along the shoreline to where the palm trees and beaches ended and mangrove swamps took over.

“Let's turn around,” said Rick. “It's more interesting at the other end of the island.”

“OK. But we'll be fighting the current. It's going to be slow going.”

“I know. But it won't be too strong here in the channel between the island and the reef. I've never known a strong current here.”

“I have,” answered Peter. “But that was when the tide was going out. Believe me, one person has little chance of canoeing against a receding tide. I was caught once by it when alone.”

“What happened?” asked Rick.

“I couldn't fight the current, so I paddled until I got to the shore, then waded through the mud dragging the canoe behind me in about four inches of water until I reached the other end of this island. Then I got back in and paddled like hell for Changi Beach, with the bows pointed almost towards Seletar. Even then I was almost carried out to sea. When I finally reached shore, I was far from Changi.”

The bow swung to starboard and for some moments the canoe was caught and carried by the tide broadside on. But the bows quickly came around until they faced the incoming tide, and the two boys dug their paddles in, fast and deep, and the little craft slowly gathered speed.

Returning to where the coconut palms came down to the beach, they followed the coastline until they reached an outcrop of rocks. Further along, they could see a narrow stone jetty jutting out across mudflats, where a boat landing stage reached out across shallow water. The water was still very low, even though the tide was coming in.

“Let's head for that jetty, Peter,” said Rick. “We'll secure the canoe there and go ashore for an hour or so.”

“And do some exploring,” said Peter, “like Robinson Crusoe.” Both laughed. It was such a happy, carefree day.

The jetty, just a narrow, concrete walkway built upon iron girders, was about thirty yards long. From the water, one could see that the walkway was spider-webbed with cracks and broken in places, and that the girders were eaten away by rust and encrusted with barnacles and slimy green muck.

Peter swung the bow of the canoe around and drew the frail craft alongside the jetty. Clutching at an iron strut, he quickly let go his hold on it. “Hell! That's damned sharp!” he exclaimed, holding up his hand and seeing blood running from cut fingers. Cursing, he sucked the wounds and spat blood and saliva over the side, noticing now that the rusted strut and lower parts of the jetty were thickly coated in shellfish and jagged coral. “I should have known better,” he said to Rick as he nursed his hand. “Christ! That coral's bloody sharp. Let's move on and find a better place to go ashore.”

After allowing the canoe to drift away from the jetty, the two boys resumed paddling. Minutes later, on rounding a headland, they arrived at a sandy beach half hidden by grey coral rocks alive with penny-size black crabs, sea-lice and masses of clinging barnacles and limpets.

Suddenly, a ringing peal of a girl's laughter broke the silence. Both boys immediately stopped paddling and listened as more laughter followed. It seemed to be coming from behind a headland of rocks a short distance ahead.

“Shh,” whispered Rick, motioning Peter to be quiet. “There's at least two of them. I bet they're Malay girls. Let's go and take a peek.”

“OK. But be quiet. If they're Malay girls they won't hang around once they know we're here.”

“I know.”

Again they allowed the canoe to drift, this time away from the rocky shallows in which they had found themselves. They then lifted their paddles, and as quietly as they knew how, brought the canoe around another spur of rocks and a low headland to find themselves wallowing in a picturesque, palm-lined bay. There, carefully and quietly, Peter eased the stern of the canoe between two concealing rocks. More laughter came from behind those rocks. Obviously they hadn't been seen. In silence they crouched behind the rocks and peeped over the top.

Playing in shallow water were two Malay girls wearing
sarongs,
and both were bare from the waist up. Totally unaware of the intrusion on their privacy and place of bathing, they sat in the water playfully splashing each other and shrieking with laughter.

Without making a sound the two boys watched the girls with amused interest.

“I'd say they're both are about eighteen,” whispered Peter.

“Yes,” agreed Rick. “Let's paddle over and give them a surprise. You can ask them in your best Malay if they'd like a ride in our boat.”

“I doubt if I know enough Malay to hold a conversation,” said Peter. “I only know phrases such as ‘what's your name?' and ‘will you give me a cigarette?'”

Rick laughed. “You can forget about asking those girls for a cigarette. But you're the linguist around here. I don't speak any of their lingo.”

Using their hands, the pair eased the canoe carefully and quietly around the rocks, drawing it slowly closer to the unsuspecting girls who were too engrossed in their frolicking to notice the approach of their captivated audience. A
sarong
fell from one of the girls and drifted away on the tide. The girl, now nude, her mood gay and uncaring, laughed and chatted happily as she lay on her back splashing with her legs in the shallow water.

“Excuse the much-used cliché, Pete, but you've as much chance as a snowball in hell of getting close to those two,” whispered Rick.

“I know, but it's fun watching them,” Peter replied.

“As soon as they spot us, they'll be gone,” said Rick.

He was right. The nude girl suddenly pointed a finger in their direction, and shouting, “
Aiyah! Aiyah!
” she sprang after her
sarong,
which by now had been carried several yards away from her. The other girl, immediately on spotting the two boys, turned and raced through the shallow water and headed towards the beach. There, she disappeared behind a great clump of bananas growing just yards above the high water mark.

“What did I tell you? I knew they wouldn't like our company,” said Rick. Then, looking towards the girl who was still in the water, he commented, “She's lost her
sarong,
Peter. Let's be perfect gentlemen and help her retrieve it. Grab your paddle.”

No sooner had Rick said those words, he froze in horror, aghast at what he was seeing. Quite close to the canoe, nostrils and a pair of eyes had risen to the surface of the water, followed by a brownish-coloured flat head and a scaly back that was moving silently and swiftly towards the girl chasing after her
sarong.

“My God, Pete! That's a crocodile!” Rick cried out. “And the girl's still in the water!”

Peter Saunders glanced at his friend. Rick was good at jesting, but this was the first time Peter had ever seen Rick look scared. He looked towards whatever Rick found so horrifying and saw unblinking eyes in a grotesque head that had a long and narrow snout, gliding rapidly towards the girl in the water. The girl had already spotted the dangerous reptile and appeared to be paralyzed with fright. She stood waist-deep in the water watching the approach of the crocodile in horrified amazement.

Rick was shouting, “She hasn't got a chance.”

Peter thought fast. Rick seemed to be right. The brute was quickly closing in on its intended victim. They must do something, and fast. They were the girl's only hope of survival.

“Rick! Hurry! Grab a paddle,” he found himself shouting. “No! Throw something at the bloody thing. Anything. I'll head for the girl.”

In feverish haste, Peter desperately drove the paddle deep into the water, sweeping his arms down and back again and again; the canoe surged forward, gaining speed with his every frantic stroke. Rick was shouting at the crocodile hoping to distract it from its prey. He had already thrown the bailing can, empty bottles, and even his pair of tennis shoes at the brute, but to no avail; it was quickly closing in on the terrified girl. Now, her screams echoed across the water as she watched the horrifying head come between her and the sanctuary of the shore. Her screams suddenly ceased. Gasping and whimpering with fright, she began splashing and floundering towards rocks jutting up from the water. But the crocodile was much faster than her.

Immediately behind the crocodile raced the canoe, with both Rick and Peter paddling furiously. And they were gaining on the huge reptile, drawing alongside it and almost riding on top of the huge, scaly back. That damned thing is even longer than the canoe, Peter agonized, and he paddled harder.

A few yards from the sanctuary of the rocks, the terrified girl tripped and fell. Whimpering, she lay kicking and thrashing her arms, her body sinking into gooey mud.

The crocodile, now almost on top of its prey, seemed sure of its meal. Long, tapering jaws opened to display a gaping, vicious mouth surrounded by wicked-looking teeth. Then, as if the beast seemed unsure from which angle to make its attack, the jaws snapped shut. For moments the huge body swirled right over the fallen girl; then again those awesome jaws opened. Momentarily Peter stared into a cavernous throat, the upper and lower jaws of the mouth surrounded by ragged-looking, yellowish teeth. And then Peter struck. Standing up and balancing himself in the rolling canoe, with all his strength he rammed the double-bladed paddle into that seemingly endless cavern. Savagely twisting the paddle and pushing all the while, he forced the wooden blade further down the reptile's throat. There was a sickening crunch, followed by just one terrified scream from the girl as the crocodile hit her with its huge, writhing body. Losing his grip on the paddle, Peter fell backward on top of Rick, almost capsizing the canoe. In a frenzy, the crocodile, with half the paddle jammed down its throat and the other half sticking out from its jaws, churned and thrashed the water furiously as it tried to rid itself of the inedible object. Smashing itself against the canoe, it jarred every plank, almost throwing the two boys into the water. Then it slid beneath the canoe, and for an awful moment Peter thought the brute would capsize their frail craft. But the crocodile, sliding into deeper water, sank from sight. Moments later a splintered half of the double-bladed paddle bobbed to the surface and floated on muddied swirling water.

Peter turned a wan face to Rick, who looked sick with fear, not for himself, but for the safety of the girl still in the water.

“I say, old chap, do you think we've given that old meanie indigestion?” Peter asked, trying to sound calm.

“Oh, for Christ's sake, Pete!” answered his shaken friend. “Let's see if the girl's all right.” Rick got up and cautiously clambered over the side of the canoe into knee-deep mud and water to where the girl lay face down and very still. “We must get her ashore.” He was surprisingly calm now. All fear had left him, his thoughts preoccupied in getting the girl safely out of the water. “If you see that big bastard, try to keep him occupied,” he heard himself shouting. “If it gets close enough, hit it with my paddle, but don't let it get near us.”

However, there was no sign of the crocodile.

Grasping the girl under her armpits, Rick lifted her head clear of the water. She sagged limply. Was she dead, he wondered. But no, he saw that she was breathing. Hearing a splashing of water behind him, he turned to see the girl's companion wading through the shallows towards him. Sighing with relief, he greeted her by saying “Hello. Come to give me a hand, eh?”

Without saying a word, and with her big brown eyes wide with fright, she assisted Rick in pulling her friend, first out of the water, and then over a sheet of mud alive with scurrying tiny crabs and sea lice. Rick sighed with relief when his feet touched warm sand, and he was even more relieved when the three of them were a dozen paces up the beach. There, in the shade of a young coconut palm, they lay down the unconscious girl.

“Thank God!” Rick muttered, as he sank wearily down beside the girl. Then he wished he knew how to give mouth to mouth resuscitation or artificial respiration. He checked to make sure the girl was still breathing. She was, and seemed to be coming around. “Wow! You're beautiful,” he murmured, and gazing down upon her lovely face partially hidden beneath long, jet-black hair, he bent over her and kissed her wet, sandy forehead. The girl opened her eyes and stared up at him in puzzlement, whimpering a little but without uttering a word.

“See! I can perform miracles,” said Rick, laughing to the other girl, who, seeing her friend's recovery, stroked her hair and comforted her by speaking softly in Malay. Blushing now, perhaps because of her friend's nakedness, she gazed at Rick in amazement but said nothing.

Peter, meanwhile, had retrieved the remains of the double-bladed paddle and now triumphantly waded ashore carrying a chewed-up and splintered one-bladed paddle. “I managed to save this,” he said proudly. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No. I don't think she's hurt,” answered Rick. “Just swallowed a lot of water and had the living daylights scared out of her. She fainted, that's all.”

“I was scared shitless,” said Peter, tossing the busted paddle down onto the sand and joining the group.

“I've never seen anything so frightening in my whole life,” said Rick. “She's had a very narrow escape.”

As the tension eased, both boys relaxed and were now smiling at the two girls, and eyeing them in open admiration.

“Well, Rick, what now?” asked Peter.

“I don't know. But let's hang around to make sure they're both all right.”

“You mean you want to ogle them,” laughed Peter, squatting Chinese style. Picking up a small stick, he doodled in the fine sand and studied the two girls.

“Why don't you try out your knowledge of Malay on them?” suggested Rick.

“OK. Why not?” Turning to the two girls, Peter said, “
Tabik.
” He was not sure whether
tabik
meant ‘hello' or ‘goodbye', but it was worth a shot.