Survival: The Adventures of Sean Semineaux Part 3 Ancient China / The First Emperor

Sailing from Wellington, l986

He would sit out on the deck each night watching the stars as the ship chugged away at about twenty five knots on its voyage from New Zealand to Hawaii. During these long nocturnal sessions he tried to piece together yesterday and tomorrow, to knit some understanding of what everything was all about, to breathe some meaning into the chaos which had become his life.

He was an American named Sean Semineaux who had come to New Zealand but a year and a half before on a mission to help rid the world of the threat of nuclear weapons; New Zealand having had the amazing courage to be the first country to declare itself a nuclear free zone (NFZ) at a time when it seemed the United States and the Soviet Union may blow up the entire world.

Sean Semineaux was truly a man of the world, having been to more countries than most ship captains or airline pilots. He had joined the military at eighteen and trained first as a cryptographer in military intelligence and then with an air/sea rescue unit that specialized in parachuting into snow. He hated cold weather. His education in international relations came quickly, his top security clearance allowing him to code and de-code messages coming and going - with eyes only - to the President of the United States, turning him into a very skeptical young man as he learned about power, money, deceit, treachery, and death that was far beyond what his many young friends were learning back home, those who chose the university. But he was a young rebel in an organization that only values conformity, had no time for authority that ruled and did not lead, would fight at the drop of a hat, managed to be court martialed four times, perhaps a record; and after four years of meritorious service which included clandestine combat, he was discharged with no rank. Strangely enough, years later he returned as Dr. Semineaux to teach high ranking military officers about the Chinese, Russians, and how to think about international relations during some of the more tense years of the Cold War.

After the four years of military service, he put himself through college, a Master’s degree, and a Ph.D.; all on scholarship, with the help of a few odd jobs like sailing as a merchant seaman, lecturing at a university or two, driving a New York cab, bartending, construction work, and working at the United Nations traveling the world on missions. He was an accomplished scuba diver and swimmer, and spent eight years on the fortieth floor dojo atop the UN Secretariat building training with martial artists from around the world. He was a good boxer, and a savage street fighter, having acquired the later skill as a youth in Philadelphia.

He had been invited to New Zealand as the author of a book he wrote on China and one dealing with the threats of nuclear, chemical, and biological conflict. He had left troubles behind in America and new troubles of another kind developed in New Zealand. He had to leave the country rather quickly.

He had always been a man of adventure, but nothing in his past would prepare him for the adventure that lay ahead, except perhaps, his job as a counselor at a Florida mental institution years before. For he would not be sure if it was an adventure, or he were going mad.

This ship out of Wellington was his life raft, for the airports would be the first place the authorities would look for him to leave New Zealand. Some New Zealand political factions wanted him out as badly as the American CIA who had informed them he was a wanted Interpol fugitive, on charges of breaking probation on a Miami drug smuggling conviction.

The Captain had set the vessel’s course north/north-east sailing the port of Wellington out into the Pacific and within half a day they were well past Kermadec Island enroute to their only port stop at Pago-Pago in the Samoan islands to discharge six containers and load twenty. The following day they sailed past Tonga and out of the area of the Tonga Trench, one of the deepest parts of the oceans where depths can reach nearly six thousand feet. The ship’s engineer kept the crews attention for hours relating island stories of mysterious ship disappearances and monsters of the deep whom it is said are known to pull sailors on watch into the sea on moonless nights. Everyone laughed a lot, but the men did not venture out onto the decks that last evening before crossing the International Date Line as they had the first two nights.

It was just after crossing the International Date Line and fast closing in on Pago-Pago that an urgent weather warning came just in time to prepare for what was to be a very bad storm.

The ship, over six hundred feet long and drawing twenty-seven feet of water, was pushed like a cork in a bath tub only ten minutes into the storm’s fury. Hatches were secured, tables and chairs not attached to the floor were turned upside down, everything and anything lying about the cabins were thrown about like mexican jumping beans, and all the crew were ordered by the Captain to stay below decks.

Waves up to seventy feet high pounded away at the vessel for six days, and with each wave the ship would slide down a wall of sea into a shadowy canyon of water which seemed sure to swallow the entire structure and all it’s sailors, never to rise to the surface again, until the sea spit it free of it’s grasp, then rolling to the port and starboard sides as if it were going to flip completely over. It was this vision of the ship that drove fear into everyone, turned upside down with its screws pointing toward the blackened grey shies and it’s radar tower pointing to the ocean floor.

If I survive this, Semineaux thought, I’ll never sail again.

When the storm broke they were far off course, sailing back across the International Date Line thereby loosing the day they had gained crossing, which the engineer claimed to be a sign of bad luck. But everyone was relieved as all the sailors scrambled out to the open deck to the fresh air escaping from the smells of sweat, vomit, and urine, to rejoice in the simple joys of life.

The tension ran so high for so long a little fresh air wasn’t going to bring peace to the ship, and within a short while out came all the money the sailors had been saving for Hawaii, along with the cards and dice. It was like a contagious disease which spread quickly, with the sounds of dice rolling over the steel deck hitting the bulkheads, men shouting, some in English most in an Asian tongue, hit me, call, and let’s see em snake eyes baby, and eventually, you cheating bastard, turn up that card.

There’s one vice I’m glad I never had, Sean thought as he started to make his way to the stern of the ship, until he heard, I got an airline ticket here from Honolulu to L.A.. It’s worth big bucks mates. But if any of you weak bastards think you can beat the ‘out back’ champ at arm wrestling, put up a hundred bucks and try and take the fuckin ticket.

With the wind coming off the starboard stern the sailor’s voice was quickly fading as he repeated his sales pitch over and over, somewhat annoying Semineaux who was now seeking some privacy and silence. Until, bingo. An idea crossed his mind.

He was a little nervous about U.S. officials, for coming off a foreign flagged vessel all passports would surely be checked by U.S. Immigration and the Custom officer would be checking the crew list. Not good. For Semineaux was not sure to what extent his fugitive status was circulated, if in fact his name was even on the Interpol system for wanted fugitives.

Hell, the airport would be a safer point of embarkation. I want that ticket. Within a few seconds he could faintly hear the same sailor, No takers...how about fifty bucks against the ticket. But he could now see him standing next to one of the life-boats. A big guy with huge arms and a thick head of black hair whom he recognized immediately from the galley where he was one of the cooks, turning out that awful food the crew called the mess-meal.

Hey mate, Semineaux called. I got fifty against that ticket, and within seconds a group of asians watching several of the men playing cards or shooting dice wandered over to where the cook had set up a table and two chairs. Semineaux put his fifty dollars on the table next to the ticket after examining the authenticity of it, looked up and into the dark eyes of the cook whom he estimated to be well over two hundred and twenty pounds. The cook put his thick hairy arm on the table placing his battle scared fist in front of Semineaux’s face, then smiled, exposing three or four broken teeth set beneath a nose that looked as if it had been smashed too many times.

You can kiss that fifty goodbye mate. as his smile now seemed to spread from one of his fat ear’s to the other.

It all happened so fast. But the smile was quickly replaced by a puzzled look. Semineau scooped up the ticket almost as fast as he had pounded the man’s fist on the table, and left everyone laughing as he quickly made his way back to his cabin, except the cook, who looked completely bewildered.

53

Sinking in the middle of the Pacific

Semineaux had kept to himself as much as possible on this small ship in order to sleep and meditate, his private prescription for preparing the mind and body for getting through uncharted waters, the unexpected changes in life that kill many, reported in dull print for one day’s obituary. The cabin was the most isolated on the vessel, the entrance accessible only through the radio room containing the ship’s telex, fax, and radio equipment.

As radio officer he knew the first few days at sea gave him some flexibility of work schedule, one step out of his cabin. When most of the crew were sleeping he checked telex and fax messages coming in from the owners, charterers, and the distant ship agent in America, responding when needed; checked the ship’s registry, Clearance from the port of Wellington, tonnage certificate, load line certificate, Safety Of Law At Sea certificate, tonnage tax certificates, and the ship’s manifest which he carefully surveyed, finding it as part of a Traveling Manifest since the vessel had originated in Australia.

In anticipation of clearing the vessel with U.S. Customs and Immigration authorities in Hawaii he prepared the most important document, the Masters Oath, and then the General Declaration, before beginning to organize the data for the Crew’s Effects Declaration, the Crew List, and the Ship’s Stores Declaration.

With his work done he sent a coded message back to New Zealand informing them he had cleared the country and a fax to his small group at United Nations headquarters in New York who at one time monitored his travels on UN assignments, currently keeping in touch whenever his existence became risky. But his semi-privacy was coming to an end.

The Master of the ship was allowing the crew to throw a survival party with beer and all the food being prepared in the galley. The crew, who heretofore had been very respectful of his isolation sent three men to knock on his small cabin door until he answered, inviting him to the party.

Opening the door, the large teeth of the three grinning men shaking their heads repeating paddi...paddi stood out like rows of elephant tusks Semineaux once viewed leaning against a wall in Morocco, their deep dark bronze skin sometimes matching the stains on teeth so young. The crew that Semineaux had not gotten to know were made up mostly of sailors from Myanmar, excepting the Master and his Chief Office who were both Korean, two Australian cooks, and the Chief Engineer who was Italian.

The three were laughing like schoolchildren as he followed them down the narrow white corridor and steps to the galley so narrow that the crew were crowded shoulder to shoulder at tables stretching bulkhead to bulkhead excepting the serving line down the center from which several men were laying bowls of food on the red-checkered table clothes already filled with cans of beer and baskets of different breads and fruit.

No food for you mate, unless you can take down my left arm, the big Aussie cook standing tall in the corridor, Semineaux not being able to read if he was serious or kidding as the volume of laughter and the blaring of the rather exotic music being played over the three loudspeakers overwhelmed his senses. But he sat down only prepared to eat, just in case the Aussie was serious. He had yet to eat any meals aboard ship thus far, having consumed the three dozen bags of kiwi fruit and the large bag of mixed nuts that had been given him at dockside by his friend in Wellington port, and knowing the tap water was taken on in Napier, New Zealand, he had enjoyed drinking gallons of the cool, pristine aqua.

The arm wrestling Australian cook, his assistant, and the Italian Chief Engineer were the only other non-Asians on board besides Semineaux. The cook, Bo Bo Aung was hired on since he prepared excellent Burmese dishes that he learned growing up in Myanmar with his Australian mother and Burmese father. The Chief engineer, Giovanni Tattoli, once the owner of an Engineering company in Angola under the Portuguese administration settled in Australia after the revolution, now running away from his Australian wife, whom he claimed was the devil, like all other women. The two Aussies were always smiling, and the Italian always looked worried.

The music to Semineaux sounded like ancient Asian instruments put to rock and roll. It felt good to be in this atmosphere of third world people again, for it was alive and lighthearted, with many of the men gathering around the American and laughing at anything he said, with some pretending to arm wrestle, bringing more laughter from the others who just pointed at Semineaux, and laughed some more.

That is, until the Captain and the Chief officer walked into the room. Seconds before sailing from Wellington a new Captain and Chief Officer flown in from Korea had boarded and replaced their counterparts, apparently to the initial dismay of the crew, re-enforced by the attitude of the two Koreans toward the crew during the first few days at sea.

The Captain was lean and very tall for a Korean. When saying hello and nodding his head, an extended hand was offered in a softer manner than most women. Semineaux surmised that this lean gentle man was an explosive fighter. His long muscular neck and forearms rippled with the subtle tension of an athlete. He resisted direct eye contact. His large brown eyes set behind his wire glasses spoke of an underlying tension and distrust of others.

The Captain and this crew were not a good mix but the loud Aussie gave the whole scene some balance. It was not long after four of the men brought out instruments and began playing that the Captain and the Chief Officer left for Captain’s quarters.

Myo Min Soe, Kuan Khin Maung, Shin Hwa Yeong, and Tat Toe Ohn sat up on a little made-up stage, with guitar, harmonica, bongos, and two spoons playing Bruce Springstein, Billy Joel, and a host of other popular songs as the men banged their beer cans on the table and some danced in the isle. Even though the singer Tat Toe Ohn was terrible it was a good time for all until things began to roll off the tables as the ship rolled from side to side, the first signs that they were again to enter another storm front.

The storm had somehow knocked out the ship’s Inmarstadt radar which links up not only all communications systems but the navigational radars, all of which worked via satellite; but the systems had not shut down until all were assembled in the galley for the party, leaving only the Captain and the Chief with this knowledge for an hour.

When a few more things fell the musicians stopped playing for a few seconds before resuming, for all the men knew that there was always plenty of warning before a storm could hit, just another series of high waves.

The ship’s navigation system, the high precision DGPS with North Pole to South Pole communications via satellite, would have picked up this new surprise of southeast winds coming all the way from Antarctica, a deadly storm this time of year because of cross-currents in the middle of the Pacific.

Before long the Chief Officer returned to the galley asking for the Chief engineer, radio officer, and first engineer Thet Yeon Beom to follow him to the Captain’s quarters immediately. By the time they were climbing the stairways the ship were pitching dangerously. The Captain greeted them as if all was well, and then went on to explain about the malfunctioning Inmarstadt system. The Chief engineer became angry at having been kept ignorant of the fact that they were without radar, weather updates, and satellite positioning info on where they were at the time. At which point the Captain’s eyes lost all calmness and looked like beacons of hate.

The Italian raised his arm and flapped his half-closed hand in the air, an angrily,

Captain you no right to keep us from this. I maybe could have fixed it...

NO...NO... the Captain interjected, the Chief... the Chief... he tried.

THE CHIEF... THE CHIEF... equally as loud, he is stupid. He could not fix a bicycle, Giovanni retorted.

Then all five men were thrown across the room as navigational charts, pens, instruments, coffee cups, raced their stumbling human figures to the starboard bulkhead, with the return nearly as violent before the ship righted itself. Everyone grabbed onto something to hold, Giovanni yelled,

Captain... this is going to be a bad one. I have to shut down the engines this time. We must drop the anchor and ‘heave ho.’

Wait.... the Captain replied. What the hell do you mean Wait, Giovanni now up in the Captain’s face. "

We have a schedule to keep, the terms of the charter party. We have lost much time already.

Fuck the charter party, Giovanni was yelling as another wave rolled the ship forty-five degrees with all holding fast to their supports. This fucking ship will go down unless we shut down and heave to.

He is rrrrighht... mumbled the Korean first engineer as if he were afraid to speak.

Captain... God damn it... make a fucking decision, or we’ll make it for you, Giovanni, again in the Captain’s face; when, all happening so fast with everyone loosing their balance, only Semineaux noticing the very swift rotating swing of the Captain’s forearm that cracked the knuckles of his turned right fist across the forehead of Giovanni, the thudding sound absorbed in the noise as a huge wave crashed over the entire ship shooting water into the room through a hatch window that was not entirely locked, leaving the men slipping and sliding around the room, Giovanni’s limp body settling against the bulkhead as inch deep water ran around him.

The conflict between Giovanni and the Captain was settled in the next second with the THUMP.....and the strange stabilization of the ship as the natural rotation stopped and the speed was cut down to about ten knots as everyone was thrown to the floor as the ship immediately began to list to the starboard side.

Everyone struggled to get up as they slid about, even Giovanni regained consciousness shaking his head in time to see the others stumbling their way up to the bridge except for Semineaux who waited to make sure Giovanni was alright before following. They could not believe the scene from the bridge.

An oil tanker, abandoned and damaged earlier in the storm, had cut across the ship’s starboard bow opening a hole above and below the waterline. The gash was so large that crates of frozen meat were already pouring into the sea from the refrigerated hull that was swallowing seawater quickly. The ship’s engines pushed the vessel’s open bow forward into the wake of the eight hundred foot tanker as it passed in front of them; it’s engines still running.

With tons of water per second pouring into the hole the ship flipped over to the starboard at a twenty-degree list as about five sailors struggled with the life raft rack containing the circular containers. In a second they were all washed overboard. A gigantic wave took them and the life raft containers. The men and equipment pulled down into the sucking swells created by the ship’s gigantic screw, chewing the men into pieces and ripping the containers apart.

There was no doubt the ship was going to sink as men hung from port side bulkheads, beams, rafters, anything they could grab for support, knowing if they did not get hurt or killed falling, falling obstacles would crush them.

All the electrical systems went dead. Semineaux could see the ship’s main control unit rotating three hundred and sixty degrees as they spun out of control. He let go of a porthole lock and dropped down to the counter supporting the navigation system. The digitized chart was frozen on the present location of 169 degrees longitude and 4 degrees latitude. They were just south of the equator, somewhere in the northern Phoenix Islands.

Christ, we are dead in the middle of the fucking Pacific, Semineaux screamed as he crawled, dropped, and pulled his way back to the radio office. The list was now at a dangerous twenty eight degrees and it took all of his concentration to hook up the old radio transmitter that had been stored behind the computer network, those systems now as dead as hope, and began tapping out S.O.S. signals one after another, dot.dot.dot didi.didi.didi dot.dot.dot

... _ _ _ ... ... _ _ _ ...

Then he tapped out the latitude and longitude, and again the S.O.S. ... _ _ _ ... ... _ _ _ ... again the location, again the ... dot dot dot didi didi didi dot dot dot ... until the ship listed another five degrees and water poured into the cabin.

He somehow managed to get his hands on the rectangular Oscar and Sierra International Flags before crawling out of the radio office and realized he was now below the water line with seawater pushing him back into the radio office.

Again he tried, and managed to cling to an electric wire, pulling himself up to the port side of the bulkhead before the ship rolled again, momentarily suspending him in air, until he fell into four feet of water breaking his fall. He still had the flags in his left hand.

By the time he made it to the main deck most had abandoned ship and he was clinging to a support pipe on the port side looking down into the water. Knowing that the sailors survival rule was to always jump off the high side where the suction of the sinking ship would be less likely to pull one under, he reached for the long heavy rope hanging from one of the wenches that was dragging in the sea on the low side, fearing a jump on the high side might land him into the ship’s screw that may still be rotating, and would chew him to bits as it had the others.

With the ship virtually on its side, he lowered himself down the rope normally used to tie the ship to the dock, and slipped into the water. Unbeknownst to him, the screw propeller on the high side was still turning at a vicious speed.

So concentrated he was on surviving that he hardly heard the cries of the men who had leap into the void, the equipment smashing against bulkheads, and the splitting, cracking, and singing of a sinking ship. The ship rolled over on its side like a dying whale as he swam as fast as he could away from it until a huge wave generated from the sinking bow buried him in water.

Bobbing to the surface he gasped for air. His next thought was whether or not his SOS had gone out. He had used several frequencies and the meters seemed to be registering that the transmitter was working. But had the antennas been grounded with everything else electrical? Was anybody listening? He only had so many tries before having to abandon ship.

Then he looked behind him and was seized by terror. The screw propeller of the ship was hovering directly overhead as the stern pointed to the sky with three Burmese still clinging to lifelines on the edge of the ship.

The ship stayed in this vertical position for what seemed a long time, and then like a spear thrust into the sea from the sky, it plunged into the mystical graveyard of the deep Pacific; the screams of the three paralyzed sailors barely audible above the sounds of equipment crashing against metal bulkheads inside the sinking vessel as it picked up speed on its death plunge, vanishing into the dark depths with a roar that left tons of water pouring over the fifteen or so survivors nearby.

Semineaux was sucked down beneath the surface within an air bubble caused by the ship’s death plunge and pulled into the swirling currents so deep that the pressure seemed about to burst his eardrums and pop his eyes. He struggled to fight for his life; and time slowed, surprisingly with flashback memories from his teenage years when he would compete in diving contests in deep blue/green stone quarries that had filled with water. Songs began to sing in his head, beautiful colors flashed before his eyes; reds and yellows, purple, blues, and greens. There was a peacefulness and slow motion quality to it all, and the line between dream and reality was becoming fuzzy. Then, he did not fear death, for he did not know it; he would not cross that line. He did battle with his own thoughts, and then pulled and pulled with all his might, then... felt himself shooting to the surface as if fired from a submarine’s torpedo tube, breaking the surface of the water as he gasped for air. Around him were tons of foam, trash, and floating waste from the ship’s last gasp.

Some of the crew had gone down with the ship, but a new worry overcame the survivors. Hot oil poured over them. It came from the ruptured abandoned tanker that sunk their ship.

Miraculously, the winds had stopped and the seas had calmed somewhat in this short time.

Men were in the water clinging to the several makeshift rafts trying to make their way to the two lifeboats some distance away. But the two inch coat of oil that soon build-up on their bodies made swimming difficult, even weighing down their life-vests, covering their hair and faces so that no longer could one distinguish between the Asians and the Caucasians. The men struggled through the carpet of oil toward the lifeboats from all directions.

Then the fins began to circle. Just a few at first, but within five minutes there must have been a hundred. They were in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, home to man-eating sharks. The screams began, first one, they several, as men disappeared beneath the carpet of oil, which was soon stained with pools of blood.

Those who made it to the lifeboats were pulled up and in by others, however weak themselves. But soon it became evident that the boats were taking in water from too much weight. What happened to the two red dome covered lifeboats with most of the supplies no one knew. One had remained tied to the port side of the ship when it went down. The chaos at the end was disastrous.

Darkness set in fast. The two boats managed to stay reasonable close during the night, both nearly sinking until some were unfortunately sent over the side after drawing bad numbers, clinging to the boats until their screams indicated the sharks had attacked again, on this first moonless night of horror.

On the second day a ship was sighted on the horizon. Somehow Semineaux had saved the flags by tucking them in his belt, thinking ahead for this moment. Everyone in the boat took turns waving the flags... SOS...SOS...SOS... until the ship was no longer in view.

At night they worried not just about man-eating sharks but other lethal creatures of the deep. Poisonous jellyfish that took hours to kill them, barracuda that tore them apart, and giant squids that pulled them under attacked some of the men.

They prayed for morning, but the demons of the night gave way to the demons of daylight. After the sun was up for a few hours it’s glare reflected on the sea nearly blinding them. They all suffered from photophobia. There was no escape from the pain. Even when you closed your eyes, two hot balls of flame burned through your eyelids. Cloth was ripped into shreds wrapped around the head and eyes for some relief.

The oil made the men sick and caused them to vomit at times, but the thick layers of oil on their skin served as a repellent against the sun, perhaps against the sharks. Each morning there were fewer men remaining.

One night during the first week the two boats drifted apart, never to see each other again. In the one boat were the Captain, the Australian cook, the Chief engineer, Shin and Toe Ohn from the musical band, Semineaux, and four other Burmese crewmembers.

All supplies quickly ran short, but lucky for them several casts of water had been stowed, in addition to fishing line which supplied them with raw fish which they torn apart and ate.

Hours became days, days became weeks, nights and days began to fill with despair, tempers ran short, and hope seemed to fade. The Captain became abusive until Semineaux and Giovanni threatened to throw him overboard. But three days later the Captain got into a shouting match with one of the crewmembers that pulled a knife in self-defense. The Captain leaped at him, then the two combatants stumbled overboard into the sea and simple sank out of sight.

At first they had no idea which way they were drifting, toward South America or Asia; but eventually figured they were drifting on the South Equatorial Current that would take them west. The South Equatorial Countercurrent would have taken them east. The Northeast Trade Winds, completely missing sight of the landfall of Yap Island, eventually pulled them over the deep Yap Trench into the Philippine Sea.

Dehydrated, sick, sun burned, blinded, delirious, they drifted without seeing any land until the Ryukyu Islands. Not being able to identify them and too weak to propel themselves toward any of the small Ryukyu they passed north of Okinawa and into the East China sea, carried by the currents and the winds.

SCENE I – THE MIDDLE KINGDOM

Before there was a China

*

54

Washing ashore on the China coast

It had been several weeks since the ship sank in the very middle of the Pacific Ocean, some surviving in two small lifeboats. The men had expected to be discovered, but there was no verification that the SOS had been picked up before the ship went down at 4 degrees south latitude and 169 degrees longitude.

Normally, someone would have picked-up the SOS. The numerous satellites would have received their position by now but even the back up system failed, for the batteries in the life boat Position Indicator had gotten wet, failing to emit the automatic signals indicating their drifting positions.

Of the crew members in the two life boats who survived the sinking ship only six remained in the one boat; and they knew nothing of the others, or where they had drifted.

Three had gone mad drinking the salt water. Two died while fighting each other, fallen overboard locked in each other’s death grip, one being the Captain. Two others had just given up and dove into the water during a storm. The three others had died from dehydration and dysentery and had to be thrown overboard. With only six men left the second boat was allowed to drift away.

The remaining six all slightly mad and having no idea where they were, with the surviving engineer repeating over and over again that they were cursed because they crossed the International Date Line four times.

Unbeknownst to them they had drifted past the Ryukuy islands just north of Taiwan without realizing how close they were to land, and once into the East China sea were carried north past Shanghai until reaching landfall just south of the old mouth of the Huangho in Kiangsu.

Nearly blinded by sun, salt water, and weeks of false sightings of land they were all shocked to see the beach through the fog but one hundred yards. One sailor jumped overboard in exhilaration, and when the five others saw the water was only up to his chest they also jumped overboard and abandoned the lifeboat that drifted up and away in the fog.

When but a few yards from shore and still waist deep in the water they could distinguish figures coming toward them on the beach, first thinking them women with skirts and hair piled on top of their heads, recognizing their features to be Asian but not quite sure if they were Japanese, korean, or Chinese for they knew not where they were landing.

By the time they were angle deep one of the men blurted out,

They are Chinese... they are Chinese...good, and a sigh of relief went up, since in this year l986 all was well with China and the West.

"But what the fuck