The Eye Is Quicker than the Brain

by Dave and Jaja Martin

An inflatable dinghy with an outboard engine on it is a great vehicle for making forays from the mother ship - assuming the engine doesn't get stolen or break down. Rowing an inflatable dinghy is like pushing an automobile up a hill: You don't give it much thought until you try it once. With any luck, when your car stalls, it will be aimed down a hill. Likewise, when the engine conks out on your inflatable dinghy you pray to Neptune the wind is from behind.

We were motoring back to DIRECTION one afternoon in Fiji and the wind was blowing hard in our face. Behind us was the open expanse of endless ocean, save for the churn of white water on coral, and in front was home, about one mile away.

Our motor, which was extremely reliable, did what mechanical things only do when in motion: it ceased. Naturally, the first thing I did was take the engine cover off, and would you believe it? There was a three-foot-long, black-and-yellow-striped sea snake wrapped around the engine block. How or why it squirmed in there is anybody's guess.

The mind clutches at anything, especially when home is a long way upwind and a coral reef is a short way downwind.

"He must have eaten the wires!" I said. Jaja has a fascination for reptile-looking things so I allowed her the privilege to untangle the snake. I checked the wires, but could see no evidence of them having been eaten. I jiggled the spark plug connections (guys do that), then pulled the cord: nothing.

I should mention that there are two types of cruisers: those who carry oars in their inflatable and those who do not. Jaja and I have experimented in both worlds. I can understand why not to carry oars - they get in the way, native kids take them, and you invariably sit on them and they break in half.

I can also understand why you should carry oars and with great reluctance, on that afternoon in Fiji, I lifted the gas tank. As well as not having any oars, we also had no anchor, no flippers, flags, flares, radio, food, water, or alcohol. There was, however, a tiny little bit of fuel left at the bottom of the tank, about two cups, and we tipped that fuel out into the bailer (we had a bailer!). Next I pulled the fuel line off the tank, and while Jaja balanced the bailer and held the fuel line submerged in our meager fuel supply, I started the motor and we crept forward very, very slowly. It was disconcerting to watch the fuel level in the bailer go down, but we made it.

To save face I blamed it all on the snake.