A day before February 4, 1966 standing from the ship’s deck we suddenly saw under a bright blue sky some birds flying over the water and we had a glimpse of land in the far horizon. We three comrades were elated, we exchanged glances and smiles, we were jumping with joy. Our feeling at that instance was probably not dissimilar to what the sailors felt in the olden days when perching at the top of their ship’s main mast after months at sea they saw land and shouted with all their might “Land Land”.
We were approaching Indonesia and soon would pass through the isthmus separating the Indonesian main islands of Sumatra and Java. Djakarta was not too far away so were the small Coco Island and Christmas Island. The Indonesian shores were still quite a distance from our eyes to be able for us to see and cherish the spectacular and picturesque view of sandy white beaches lined with coconut and palm trees which we know of today. Nevertheless the words “Sumatra” and “Java” were in themselves too exotic to stop our hearts from pounding. As we entered the South China Sea the night had caught up with us.
We woke up early next morning, I could not remember the exact time but it was still pitch dark and the air was filled with mist and dew. We could barely see a couple of hundred feet ahead but could hear the occasional long and eerie sound of the ship’s horn. The air was hot and humid and we waited patiently on deck to see something that the crew promised would be exciting and unforgettable. Every time I watched a rerun of “Titanic” my imagination would bring me back to this mysterious and misty morning on the M V”Ruys”.
The ship was soon to enter the Port of Singapore. Speed was reduced considerably lest it hit other vessels in the harbour. Suddenly and unexpectedly as if oozing out from the mist appeared a dozen of small motor boats swiftly approaching the port side of our ship. It reminded me of the Greek mythology Helen of Troy, the face that launched a thousand ships which suddenly appeared on the shore of Troy.
At that moment our ship’s crew ready and well prepared threw several long heavy ropes from over the deck to the motor boats below. We hardly had time to blink than the seamen below were already climbing up the ropes and over on to deck. For the next five or ten minutes there was a brisk exchange of goods and money, obviously smuggled goods. What kind of goods I did not know, my best guess would be cigarettes, alcohol, camera. Everything was perfectly timed and synchronized, no panic, no mistake, no misunderstanding. I thought that they should have done it a hundred times that they could do it with their eyes closed. It was mind-boggling how perfectly things were coordinated and executed by a team of ordinary men who had no cell phones, no telex, no email, one group cut off sixty days at sea, the other group incommunicado on land.
Whether this activity was repeated at each and every port I was not sure, whether the Ship’s Officers were aware of it but kept one eye closed I was not sure, whether the Officers had a cut I was not sure. But this was a small way the low paid crew made an extra buck on their long hard journey. Just as quickly the seamen had come on board they cleared the deck just as fast. Timing was critical because the deal needed to be completed before the ship entered the Port proper, before day break and before the Harbour Police had time to react.
When I think about it now I am happy that I traveled Second Class because both First Class and Third Class passengers did not have this opportunity to witness something so exciting, so extraordinary, a scene that could fit in any James Bond movie, a once in a life-time experience never to be forgotten.