Chapter 39

SV Surprise Pentwater, Michigan. Seemed like a decent idea. Better than Novigrad, Croatia, where she was built or Corfu Town Greece, where she was bought or even Amamaru, Japan, the ship she was deck cargo.

Sounds simple. Nope. We had to appear in person at the American State Offices Association in Taipei City, Taiwan. We flew over. Then we had to get past the Marine gate guard before we could get inside ... and they are as inscrutable as the Royal Palace guard in London. Since Bill had pardoned us our US passports were good. Except ... we were 10 when they were issued. The passport photos didn’t match our new look.

Bill was still President and would be for three more years. Our predicament ... mom killed a president a couple of terms before Bill ... seemed to give Bill no end of joy and, though he’d never met us, he’d interceded on our behalf several ... Okay ... twice ... before. His problem with Monica might make him difficult to reach. What congress wanted was his ass on a rail headed out of town. Bill was a gentleman and a gentleman doesn’t tell.

Congress wasn’t gentlemenly because gentlemen never ask.

Bill was the man responsible for oral being designated SEX.

Name dropping got us inside.

Finally inside the compound we had to explain what we wanted.

“We need to register our Sailing Vessel Surprise, homeport, Pentwater, Michigan,” I told the functionary.

“Not a problem, I need to look at the boat.” She said.

“Umh ... that’s a problem,” Cyn said.

“It’s not here,” I said. “We had engine problems out of Naha, Okinawa. The boat is in Tokashiki harbor having the engine looked at.”

“We brought the paperwork,” Cyn was hopeful and her voice agreed.

The dimensions of the boat waved warning flags in Miss Assistant’s eyes. For all that we’re of legal age, a couple of kids with a multi million dollar yacht didn’t fit her conception of yacht owners.

A second set of flags was hoisted when we had to confess that the purchaser of record was neither of us.

Two black balls (Storm Warning, Full Gale.) went up the mast when we had to confess we had no idea WHERE Surprise Melody Flintkote was located.

We weren’t summarily executed on the spot but we were escorted off the premises and told to come back when we could produce both Surprise the sister and Surprise the boat.

Hmmm.

Ah. Dual citizenship. The first country wouldn’t help ... so...

New Zealand doesn’t have an Embassy in Taiwan. What they do have is a New Zealand Representative Office. The representative is more of a middleman between Taiwanese manufacturers and New Zealand purchasers than an ambassador. But she was also well versed in rescuing abandoned New Zealanders.

People like Us.

“Miss Flintkote, Mr. Flintkote, “ she said, shaking our hands in turn, “I have always wanted to meet you,” Si’alei said. “I thought I’d never get the chance. And here you are.”

After the explanation she said, “Well, I do need to see the boat. Come on. We’ll take the company plane.”

It’s a mile/mile and a half from the office to the airport ... not far ... if one doesn’t have traffic. Without traffic I could run it in maybe 10 minutes max. But one thing Taipei does have is traffic. We took the company helicopter to Songshan Airport. Sure, it was up and down but driving would take a hour ... if we were lucky.

I wasn’t expecting the company plane to be a de Havilland DHC-3 Otter floatplane. Cyn and Si’alei walked around the P&W P-6 turboprop aircraft, Cyn reading the checklist and Si’alei shaking and kicking. Satisfied New Zealand’s Representative stepped on the float. When Si’alei climbed up and sat left-seat I nearly refused to go. Then she motioned Cyn to the copilot’s seat and put me in the back.

Si’alei handed Cyn another sheet and she began reading. Our pilot was touching readouts and boiler gauges and Cyn kept reading. They finished, looked at each other and laughed. The engine started, the prop began to turn. I never got to watch a pilot takeoff before. When we headed to the runway it was too late to get out ... and away we go.

“One third of our manufacturing is done on small islands. I fly a lot.” Si’alei said. “I’m used to this. We had a professional pilot but doing my own has saved NZ big bucks.”

“Settle back, Mr. Flintkote. It’s not quite three hours. Take a nap.”

I thought that sounded good. While I was out, Cyn got her first flying lesson.

Had I known...