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12 FOUR SEASONS BREEZE | FEBRUARY 2021 "farangs" were snorkeling then they had time for a few more beers. I don't think Burma has many nautical safety regulations. At midday the crew barbecued a feast on a beach. Much of the fish was caught on the way over. After lunch we visited a few more islands, some of which were inhabited by troupes of little monkeys. They would come down to the beach and shout at us, but I could not get close to them. Then we started our return journey. I was ready for a little rest. I could tell the crew was tired, too; their beer drinking had slowed down. We were about half way back to the mainland when the engine made a strange rumbling sound and then suddenly stopped. There was silence; no one spoke; we just looked at the captain. He put his beer down, thought about the situation, and then shouted "No worries, mate!" Obviously he had learned his very limited English from an Aussie. He attempted to restart the engine but it refused to turn over. The captain thought again and this time shouted "Kaput." Kaput is one of those international words like taxi or hotel which is understood anywhere in the world. He stood up and tried to look like he was confidently in charge of the situation. He walked over to the old marine radio in the wheel house, switched it on, and started shouting into the microphone. I may not speak Burmese but I have enough electrical knowledge to know that the dial lights should illuminate when you switch the radio on. We play charades at home so it was easy for me to explain to the captain that there was no power. We checked the fuse, well actually a piece of aluminum foil from a cigarette packet. It had blown — not a good sign. He replaced it with a heavier piece of aluminum foil. That blew as he was pushing it in with his bare fingers. Another bad sign. Almost predictably he shouted "Kaput, no worries mate" and picked up a fresh beer. Up until then I had no worries. Taylor Adventure Tours had never let me down. I had never been attacked by wild monkeys or marauding elephants as people had warned me about. No one had ever suggested that being marooned in the Andaman Sea was a risk I should take into account. The captain finished his beer, walked to the wheel house, and started banging on the horn button. I think he was attempting SOS but his letters were a little off. I would have corrected his spelling but it seemed pointless as there were no boats in sight. After a while the battery ran flat and there was silence again. Things were getting serious now as the beer supply was getting dangerously low. Then just like in the movies, one of the crew shouted out and pointed to the horizon. There in the distance was a local squid fishing boat heading for us. To this day I don't know if the horn worked or if it was plain dumb luck. There was a heated conversation between the two captains and a transfer of beer cases which I think was a towing fee. Once we were under way the captain could not resist giving us one last "no worries, mate." The journey back to port was painfully slow being towed by this overloaded squid trawler. It took so long the crew decided to have dinner on board with fish caught while we were floating around with no engine. continued on following page continued from previous page