90.

   The giant paused and looked down at me. A wry smile crossed his face. “Go and tell your fellow morons what you have learned. Few of them have a clue to what’s going on and those who do are about as threatenin’ as mosquitoes buzzin’ around a bug light. The one thing you have on your side is history. You have to teach the morons history before it’s obliterated all together. The truth, little bugs just might save the world.”
   The Giant of the Atacama stepped down from the hills and lifted us into the balloon. He called up to us as we began to drift away. “There are some who will understand what you have seen and will tell you more. Continue your journey. Visit the matchmaker of Valparaiso. She will help you.”
   We slowly lifted into the night leaving the beaming giant behind us. “I like that guy.”, said Pat. “He does go on, but I would too if I were stuck in this hell hole all alone.”
   “I’ll bet we’re the first outsiders he’s seen in a long time.”, said Nanette. “We must be the first to get a show like that.”
   “You are not anywhere near the first!”, called the giant. “But I pray you’re the last!”
   That shot a cold shiver down all our backs. We waved to him as we sailed higher. He grew smaller and smaller finally becoming just another bright star in the night as we crested the mountains over the Amazon leaving the desert behind.
   I looked at the moonlit jungle below me and sighed. “I get snatched from the jaws of death only to be told my countrymen are a bunch of morons.”

91.
   Something inside of me snapped. “I’m fucking sick of hearing every God damned hallucination in this freak show trash my country! Would any of you clowns be happier under Hitler, Stalin, Mao? Me and my fellow morons invented the light bulb, photography, recorded sound, the telephone and took a couple of jaunts on the fucking moon in case you forgot! Name me another country that has -”

   Pat grabbed my leg. Nanette grabbed another. Claudia kissed me. “And there’s your music!”, she gasped. “You have given the world the Blues, and Bluegrass and Jazz and Rock and Roll!”
   “And Tennessee Williams!”, exclaimed Pat. “And Eugene O’Neal and William Faulkner and E. E. Cummings and James Baldwin and Hunter Thompson!”
   “And Marsden Hartley!”, continued Nanette. “And William Merritt Chase and Milton Avery and Georgia O’Keefe and Philip Guston and Jackson Pollock, and - gumbo!”
   I was suddenly free of my anger. My rant was stopped in mid-sentence. I smiled. “All I’ve had to drink in this perverted interlude is wine and a brandy and coke.”
   “Say no more!”, ordered Claudia breathlessly. “What will you have?”

   “You have a bar in this dump?”, I growled. “Scotch.”
   “On the rocks, of course.”, purred Claudia as she handed me a miracle in a balloon floating a thousand feet over a jungle.

92.
   I lifted the glass and admired the moonlight sparkling in the ice. I inhaled the rich, heady aroma and felt the bite on my tongue and the burn in my mouth. The taste of scotch digs into your soul and comforts it. It’s an anchor. It’s a rock. “The mention of jazz brought me out of my rage.”, I sighed. “A scotch in my hand in a bar with a jazz pianist conducting the din of warm conversation is a memory that will stay with me till the end of my life and help me meet it with a smile on my face.” I emptied the glass and looked up at the moon. “And what about the rock that hides the real truth, the rock that hides the pathway to hell? That centipede was laughing at us, laughing at our journey. What hope is there for us if nothing will ever change? What chance do we have against these shitty things thrown at us if our journey is for nothing?”

   “The fact that they are being thrown at us proves that our journey is not for nothing”, countered Nanette.
   “The fact that we have survived them proves we may be able to change things.”, said Pat as he looked at Nanette fondly.
   Claudia looked up at me. “Humanity itself is on the journey with us. We managed to get this far. We have each other. Even if there is no chance of succeeding, we must continue. If we don’t succeed, we at least leave a path for others to follow and as long as there is hope, others will follow.”
   “As long as there is hope.”, I repeated. I looked into her dark, bottomless eyes. “You are an inspiration, a very beautiful inspiration.”

93.
   A deafening howl shattered our meditation. “The Jews are returning to Israel!”

A bare assed preacher as big as a tank fell out of the night onto the balloon. “The Anti- Christ is among us!” His hair was electric yellow. His skin was purple, his eyes red. “Eternal torment and agony will befall all who follow him! We welcome Armageddon and hasten its divine justice!”

   The balloon creaked and groaned. The basket lurched. “Death and eternal damnation to the non-believers! Only the chosen few will escape the eternal jaws of hell and rise up in the Rapture to the righteousness of Jesus!”
   A huge, clammy hand stretched out at us. “The true believers will reside with Christ in Heaven!” We were pulled from each other’s arms. “The antichrist will rule until Jesus destroys him and the world forever!”
   The dogs and I were thrown from the balloon. “Rejoice, for the end of the world is nigh!”
   As I fell, I saw Claudia reaching for me. The balloon collapsed under the weight of the raging lunatic. She disappeared under the canopy.
   I blacked out.

OLIVER’S ILLUMINATIONS 

PART THREE

94.

   I came to on a dusty hillside overlooking the port of Valparaiso. I squinted under the bright sun. My memory flooded back. I looked around desperately for Claudia. Pat and Nanette stood beside me. I sat up with a start. “Where is Claudia?”
   “We had to leave her. We could only carry you.”, said Nanette quietly.
    “Leave her?”, I yelled. “Leave her to what?”
    Pat touched me. “She’s tough. She’ll make it out alright. Now you must be strong.” “Remember your promise.”, said Nanette.
    My pain made me feel very small. I looked out over the endless Pacific. I felt I had Claudia in my arms only moments ago. I could smell her hair. I could feel the soft skin on the back of her neck. I could feel her breath on my cheek. I looked pleadingly at the dogs.
   “She is not dead!”, barked Pat. “If there is any chance at all she is alive, she is alive!”
   I was an empty shell, paralyzed. Then I was furious. I pounded the dirt. I tore the grass. “I left her to die!” I fought to deny my worst fears. I fought to accept them. I bawled like a baby.       

   “Stop it!”, ordered Nanette. “We have to go forward, one day, one minute at a time. Stand up! We must go into the city.” 

   “We did the only thing we could!”, said Pat desperately. “There was a chance for her to escape alone. You were unconscious. If we stayed with her, if we dropped you in the jungle, all of us could have been killed.” 

     I struggled to my feet. I fought to deny my worst fears. I fought to accept them. I bawled like a baby.

95.
   The dogs dragged me into the city. I staggered through its streets stunned and empty like a condemned man on his way to the gibbet. The searing beauty of the town was warped by my despair. The buildings seemed to bend and sway. The sidewalks buckled. Was she alright? Did she save herself? Was she killed? I couldn’t catch my breath. I was sweating profusely.
   “Look at this town. Isn’t it beautiful?”, encouraged Pat.

   “This is our life, Oliver, our world.”, said Nanette. “We must live for those who have gone before us. We owe it to them. It doesn’t matter how tough life is. It can always be worse or you’re dead. You have to decide whether you’re here to experience the ride, every inch of it or not, OR NOT, because we don’t know what’s on the other side, what’s after, so there is no other side. If you decide you want to be alive, if you can dig yourself out of the misery of now and somehow find the joy of being alive, then keep on living because despite all its horrors and disappointments, it is a gift. It’s all we know. It’s us. It’s life. If you can figure that out, if you can accept the gift of life then give it back to the world. If someone, anyone listens to you then you haven’t lived in vain and you can move on to face no matter what’s next. I know you have experienced great pain in your life. You would not be here if you had not. We all have experienced great pain. We had a family once, Oliver, Pat and I, six children. They are dead, all dead.”
   Strain creased Pat’s eyes over his forced smile. “Look at those pinks and yellows! Look at that grill work!"

96.

   We wandered the city like lost children. Pat’s facade soon cracked to pieces. He stood under a tree sobbing. I felt like a fool.    
   Nanette put an arm around Pat and looked up at me. “We’ve been around a long time, Pat and I. When our children were killed, time stood still, literally. In 1960 the CIA engineered a coup to overthrow the democratically elected president of Ecuador, Jose Maria Velasco Ibarra. He was no communist, but he tolerated both parties in Ecuador and he refused to break relations with Cuba. In the eyes of the CIA, if you are a leader of a country in the American colony of the continent of South America you are either a puppet or you are history. The CIA used their usual bag of filthy tricks and, in to turn the deeply religious peasants against the leftists and communists they bombed churches. Our children were in one of those churches. They were not a threat to anyone, Oliver. They were children, Oliver, children.”
   Nanette and I sat beside Pat. When he got hold of himself, he looked at the two of us. He got to his feet and started walking. We followed him closely. We walked on not really knowing what we were looking for when suddenly we were stopped short by a whimsical architectural wonder. A jumbled nonsense in peach, tangerine and canary danced before our eyes. Windows were out of place. Balconies went nowhere. It sat on a corner bifurcating the street as if it had jumped out in front of us to block our way. There was a sign on the door: La Casamentera.
   “Come on, Oliver!”, pushed Nanette. “We found it! We’re here!”
   “It’s the matchmaker’s house!”, urged Pat. “She will help us.”
   I opened the door. We walked in.

.

97.

   We entered a room with an arched ceiling. A husky, soothing voice called out to us from behind a small bar framed by a couple of silent drunks. “Well, well. What have we here? Three ragamuffins dirty and thirsty and down on their luck. Well never you mind. I’ll take care of you. First things first, a couple of stiff ones. Yes?”
   A big woman with eyes that could melt your soul and arms that could throw you through a wall motioned us in. I stepped up to the bar and looked into her broad, face framed by a cloud of white hair. A tiny dog perched on her head looked down at me. I sat at the bar. The dogs took a stool next to me. The bartender poured me a strong drink. I was tied in a hundred knots but the drink began to loosen them.
   “My name is Oliver and these are my friends Pat and Nanette.”, I offered. “We’ve come a long way.” I looked around and spotted a large crucifix with a black hood over the head of Christ. “What’s with the hood?”
   “Oh, we’re just keeping up with the times.”, laughed the bartender. “A crown of thorns is so yesterday as you North Americans say. You are North American, aren’t you? But with a hood, a gag and earplugs - you can’t see, you can’t speak, you can’t hear. A crown of thorns just scratches your head. This new couture blots out the world altogether so you can imagine your impending crucifixion in the most exquisite detail.”
   “Do you know where the matchmaker of Valparaiso is?”, I asked.
   “I am the matchmaker.”, said the woman looking around nervously. “Come with me.” She stepped from behind the bar and up a stairway. “Well, come on. Don’t just sit there.”
   We followed her.

98.

   "You're all filthy! Come!" The matchmaker ordered us into a tub. Why not? I thought. A kind of spa. As she began to scrub us, I relaxed and opened my heart. “A talking crocodile introduced me to a girl in a balloon made of banker skins. She took me and the dogs in the balloon on all kinds of adventures to teach me how we Americans have screwed over everything south of the border for the last fifty years. We were attacked by a socialite cow, met an amorous barman who told us about the bloodsucking International Monetary Fund, were chased out of Buenos Aires by murderous green politicians and ended up in a cave full of feckless patriots, singing mummies, the Mighty Wurlitzer and a man eating centipede who told us democracy was nothing more than a tiny candle on the shit cake of humanity. We were saved by a sarcastic geoglyph who danced on the mountaintops ranting and raving like a preacher full of bourbon. He told us to come here but we were jumped by a buck naked purple end timer. My girl and I were separated, and I don’t know if she’s alright.”
   “My goodness, that’s quite a story.”, said our hostess. “When I was young, I had adventures like that. I was fighting the for the Sandanistas in Nicaragua. We met a politician sent by your President Ronald Reagan, 'La Bruja', the witch. He throttled one of our officers. I crushed his balls. I fought for the Tupamaro in Uruguay. We captured Senior Mitrione, the American from your State Department who demonstrated his torture techniques on homeless people. I put two bullets in his head. Your president Richard Nixon, ‘La Nana’, The Washerwoman said of him, ‘His devoted service to the cause of peaceful progress in an orderly world will remain as an example for free men everywhere.’ Isn’t that a lovely eulogy for a sadistic murderer?" She dried us, fed us a warm meal and ordered us into an ancient brass bed. Its feather mattress swallowed us whole.

99.

   The next morning, I woke up feeling reborn. La Casamentara was standing over me with her tiny dog in her hair. She held a pile of clothes in her hands and a pair of scissors dangled from her fingers. I sat up in bed. The dogs were still asleep at my feet. I stretched out my arms, rolled back my head, closed my eyes and reveled in a long yawn. When I opened my eyes, I was looking at another hooded crucifix hanging over the bed. Then I thought of Claudia.
   The matchmaker must have seen a shadow darken my face. She launched into a breathless verbal distraction accompanied by the whimpering and yipping of her dog. “First, we are going to trim that mop on your head. Then I want you to get dressed.” She snipped at my hair and practically dressed me herself, all the while babbling away and keeping a concerned eye on me. “You’ll continue your journey but not with your dogs alone. Come downstairs. Breakfast is waiting for you. When you have finished, step out onto the veranda. There is someone I want you to meet.” We followed her down. She sat Pat, Nanette and me before a magnificent spread and floated out of the room humming a tune to her dog.
   “I can’t believe we’re eating this feast after a warm bath and a feather bed.”, marveled Nanette.
   “Maybe we can stay here awhile.”, said Pat as he gazed at the feast. “Let’s at least make the most of it while we can.”
   So we lingered, eating slowly, sensuously, gratefully. I looked at the dogs lost in their rumination. A sudden affection for them welled up in me and brought tears to my eyes.

100.
 

   “Come on.”, I said when we finished. “The matchmaker has a date for me.”
   We found a patio in the back that overlooked the sea. The matchmaker was waiting for me. She had company. “Have you ever seen such a magnificent specimen?”, she crowed pushing me toward a large man in a large hat. “I am most pleased to introduce you to Conrad. Conrad, I want you to meet Oliver and his friends Pat and Nanette.”
   This isn’t what I was expecting, I thought. Conrad shook my hand. His hand was surprisingly warm, almost hot. The matchmaker smiled. “Conrad sails out of Buenos Aires on the El Telo. I’ve booked passage on her for you and the dogs to Sumatra.”
   Conrad held my hand fast and smiled broadly. “Will you come with me to Sumatra, Oliver, you and your friends?”
   As I looked into his brilliant blue eyes, I felt relieved in some strange way. “Yes, I will.”, I heard myself say. I glanced at Pat and Nanette. “Won’t we?”
   “I think we ought to stay here for a while, put some meat on our bones.”, said Pat.
   Conrad looked down at Pat. “If it’s food you are concerned about, Sir, the El Telo has an excellent mess. The cook is renowned for his creativity.” He turned to Nanette. “And if you are considering the accommodations, Madame, the El Telo has seen many a year, but she has class. Some would say she is weathered. I think she is a grand dame built in the days before cynicism took hold of this world, when wonder and imagination were still with us.”
     Nanette gazed up at Conrad. “Just look at that man. Who could say no to him?”
    Pat shrugged and smiled affectionately at Nanette. “Who can say no to you?”

101.

   “Then you must come with me now!”, proclaimed Conrad in a deep, loud voice. “The El Telo sails at sunset.”
    The matchmaker beamed with pride. She put one hand on my shoulder and the other on Conrad’s. “You boys have a long voyage ahead of you. Take your time through the city. Be around each other for a while.” She handed us shoulder bags stuffed with clothes and provisions.   “Compliments of the house.” she grinned. “And something to remember me by.” As the four of us descended into the city, I glanced back to see her dancing on the patio, waving her arms with glee while her dog howled away in her hair.
   Pat chuckled. “Will you come with me to Sumatra?”. 

   “To the ends of the earth, ya big galoot.”, laughed Nanette.
   Conrad and I took the whole day to walk down and into the city to the harbor. I expected him to tell me his country’s struggle with Uncle Sam, but he said nothing. He had only shy smiles and sidelong glances to offer me.
   “I’m sure you assume I’m American.”, I said with some reserve. “Pat and Nanette are from Ecuador. May I ask where you are from?”
   “I am from a small island in the Indian Ocean.”, mumbled Conrad.
   There was pain in his voice. I let him be. As we walked through the city, we soaked each other in. Words were sparse, a comment, a question, an answer here and there, punctuation to a silent symphony. There was something stirring in me, something I was only vaguely aware of.

102.

   At the harbor we boarded a tug painted in the shimmering pastels of Valparaiso. The city rose behind us as we steamed away, its buildings glinting in the afternoon sun.
    “The El Telo is anchored in the middle of the harbor.”, announced Conrad. “It will take us some time to reach her. There she is!” He pointed to a hulking derelict in the distance.
   “A tramp steamer!”, I shouted over the pounding of the engine. “We’re sailing on a tramp steamer! I’ve always wanted to sail on one! I’m thrilled!” 
   “And so am I.”, growled Conrad.
   Pat rolled his eyes.
   Nanette looked over the rail at the water. “I better not get seasick. 
   “Just don’t tell me we’re on our way to Skull Island to find King Kong!”. I babbled. “I’ve seen enough monkeys for a lifetime. Pat and Nanette saved me from a sixty-foot monkey just a few days ago. I had a friend. We had a friend, but we lost her.”
   “You will see her again.”, said Conrad.
   “I will?”, I said, catching my breath. “Do you know where she is?” 
   “You will see her again.”, he repeated.
   This guy isn’t much for words, I thought but part of me wanted to believe him. A part of me almost believed him. Consider the crazy world you are in, I thought. She might just be aboard the ship. Hell, she might just be its captain.

103.

   The sun was low on the horizon when we reached the ship. My flights of fancy had come to earth. The wind came up making boarding from the much smaller tug dicey. It edged up to a gangway already lowered in place. I could see lights on the ship but no crew.
   “She’s a good ship with a good crew! We’re lucky to be sailing on her!”, shouted Conrad over the sound of the waves slapping on the ship. “Come on, let’s board!” He threw his legs over the tug’s railing and landed on the platform at the base of the gangway. He turned and looked back at us. “Come on! Let’s go!”, he commanded impatiently.
   The dogs and I lowered ourselves gingerly on to the platform as it rose and fell with the waves. Conrad stomped up the gangway. We followed him, clutching at the wet ropes and slipping on the lurching planks. The steamer swaying above us was part menace, part temptress. I could feel my heart pounding. My eyes were wide open. There was a broad smile on my face.
   “This ship is right out of a movie!”, marveled Pat.
   “I better not get seasick.”, said Nanette.
   At the top of the gangway, Conrad turned and offered his hand. He pulled me up and close to his chest.    “Oliver, the first thing we have to do is go forward.” He smiled broadly, spun on his heels and marched away. 
   We followed him like awestruck tourists.

104.
  When we reached the bow, the four of us, our backs to the Chilean coast were transfixed. The sunset exploded into crimson and purple.
   The minute Conrad had stepped on board the El Telo, he was transformed. Once lumbering and taciturn, he was suddenly light on his feet, grinning broadly with eyes ablaze. He breathed in the sea air lustily. He raised his arms over his head and slowly spun reverently around. “Look at that sunset! Just look at it!” He put his hands on my shoulders. “I had a great time in Valparaiso. I hardly slept at all and now you come along! I am blessed!”

   The ship’s horn bellowed. “This is the best part of the voyage.”, he said. “No matter how good it gets, this is the best part.” The horn blew again and he pulled me close. “Ain’t it grand?” He looked back at the city. “So long, boys!” He turned to the setting sun, pulled off his hat and waived it. Two great bull’s ears flopped down the sides of his head and caught the breeze.
   Suddenly life in all its glory rose up, grabbed me by the collar and shook me till my head wobbled.    
   “Adios, amigos!”, he blasted then, turning his big cheeseburger face to mine he whispered. “Liebling, kom dort mit mir.”
   “The guy’s a God damned Minotaur!”, panted Pat.
   “A Minotaur with one thing on his mind.”, sighed Nanette.
   As the colors of the sunset waned, a full moon appeared in the sky. The El Telo steamed steadfastly beneath it. The column of smoke pouring from her stack drifted with the wind. She blew her horn once again.

105.
   Another sunset, another full moon and definitely not another woman. For a moment I stood paralyzed then I slowly put my hands up to Conrad’s face and took hold of his ears. 

   “What in all creation are these?” , I asked in amazement.
   “They are my ears, Liebling. What do you think they are?”

   They were warm to the touch. They were soft and pliant in my hands. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”
   “Do you like them?, asked Conrad as he leaned closer. 
   “I do.”, I said quietly.
   “And do you like me?”, smiled Conrad.
   “I do, indeed.”, I said, smiling back.
   His ears jumped out of my hands. “Then the voyage starts with a good omen!”
   I laughed with delight. I stepped back from him to take him in. “I have never in all my life met anyone like you.”
   Conrad put his hand to my face. “Oliver, we are going to have a memorable voyage on the El Telo.”
   I took his hand in mine. “What does El Telo mean in English?”
   Conrad’s eyes narrowed with his smile. “The hot sheets hotel.”
   Those ears! They blinded me. I was smitten by a pair of ears. This adventure was one shock after another but the good seemed more impressive than the bad. What the hell, if I could die any minute, I might as well go out having fun. The El Telo steamed into the night. Bon voyage.

106.

   That night I dreamt that Claudia gave me her blessing. I awoke when the cabin was
suddenly filled with a blinding burst of light. A silhouette formed in the light and Claudia walked over to the bed. She knelt and kissed my cheek. “I see you’ve roped yourself a buffalo and a handsome one at that. Trust me, Oliver, you’re going to need him where you’re going.” She reached over and caressed Conrad’s ears. “I suppose I should be jealous but how could anyone resist these?”
   I felt simultaneously in the room watching her and in bed feeling her hands on my face. But I was not awake after all. I strained and struggled but I could not move or speak.
   “Relax, Oliver.”, Her voice seemed to sing. “I am by your side always, my love. You have a very long way to go and a great deal more to see. No matter how hard it gets, no matter how dark it gets, the journey is more important than any of us. We have been separated but we will see each other again.”
   She caught Nanette staring at her. “Take good care of him.” She kissed me on the lips and ran her fingers through my hair. “Goodbye for now, my dear man. Good luck.”
   Then she stood up and backed into the light. She blew me a kiss and was gone. I awoke in tears but the sight of Conrad in the moon light beaming through the porthole comforted me. I breathed deeply, grateful for the dream, grateful for Claudia.

107.
   The voyage was timeless. Images, smells, tastes, smiles, sighs were woven together with the simple company of the dogs, Conrad and the sea. Then one morning Conrad took me to the bridge to meet the captain, an iguana hailing out of Veracruz. Her name was Beatrice. Her strong hands held the wheel as she gazed into the lifting fog. “I hear you are getting quite an education, young man.”, she smiled.

   “We’re sailing for Sumatra but I don’t know why.”, I admitted. “My friend hasn’t told me any stories yet but when he does, I’m sure they will be sad ones. I’ve been getting it from all sides that my country isn’t the white knight I have been led to believe it is.”
   “Ah, empire.”, offered the captain.
   I shrugged. “I’ll be the first to admit from what I’ve seen that we have been as guilty as anyone fighting the Cold War, but we didn’t actually invade countries like the Soviets invaded Hungary or the Chinese invaded Tibet.”
   The captain shrugged and glanced at Conrad. “Indeed, my child.”
   Conrad rolled his eyes. “Aside from Vietnam?”
   “What?”, I asked as my idiocy began to dawn on me.
   “Besides Vietnam, Haiti, Cuba, The Dominican Republic?”, continued Conrad with an
edge in his voice.
    “Of course, Vietnam. Did we invade the Caribbean as well?”, I asked, digging myself
deeper.
   “Why don’t you ask a Panamanian?”, Conrad sneered.
   I looked at Conrad, surprised at his tone. “A Panamanian?”

108.

   Conrad excused himself and wandered off with an angry look in his eyes. I found him
leaning over the railing with his head bowed. “Why did you invade Panama? Had your School of Assassins run its course? Noriega was ex-CIA and the CIA made him president. Noriega got off his leash ,but you never had any trouble before when one of your puppets went astray. A CIA bullet to the back of the head would have been easy, but an invasion? Hell, you could have just arranged for his plane to crash in the jungle like you did when you murdered Omar Torrijos, the president he replaced. It was so easy, as easy as the plane crash that killed Jaime Roldos, the president of Ecuador three months before. Over thirty- five hundred Panamanians died in your invasion. There were mass graves found. Mass graves! I didn’t think you were capable of that. And that CIA report about Noriega’s red pajamas, the pornography, the voodoo equipment were the very same things the CIA said it found on Allende. What brainless idiots! And what about Granada? Why in the hell did you invade Granada? Was Reagan’s crushing of that tiny island and Bush’s stomping of Panama a testing ground, a harbinger of things to come?”
   “Why are you asking me?”, I snapped. “No more horror stories. No guilt trips. Just you and me, then bang! Right in the kisser! Look, I’ve been through this already!”
   Conrad stepped back in surprise. “Forgive me, Oliver.” He offered me a sad smile and rested his head on my shoulder. “I should not show my anger. There are better ways to tell you. But this is your journey, and you have to face it, all of it. These last few days have been bliss but now it is time to start anew. There is so much more.”

109.
   A truly gorgeous group of islands had appeared on the horizon. Conrad put his arm around my waist. “May I tell you about Hawaii? Politely? She was a nation that the United States had recognized as sovereign and had treaties with, but in 1897, James Kaulia, the president of the Hawaiian Patriotic League saw clearly that America was abandoning its founding principles to its lust for empire: ‘Is it the Island’s wealth that America desires?’, he asked. ‘If so, then America will desire to annex the earth.’ The descendants of Protestant missionaries had changed the communal concept of all the land for all Hawaiians to that of private ownership. The land was being bought up by wealthy Americans. As with Guatemala and bananas, so went Hawaii and sugar cane. The Hawaiians were outnumbered and out gunned. King Kamehameha was forced to sign the Bayonet Constitution in 1887. It reduced him to a figurehead, gave voting rights to only those who owned land and imposed literacy conditions that disenfranchised many Hawaiians. Queen Lileuokalani fought to the end. She drew up her own constitution in 1893. The Americans answered her with the Marines. Some Americans, including Mark Twain and President Grover Cleveland himself knew that empire was the devil’s game but the American sugar barons on the islands lobbied congress and in 1898, with McKinley in the White House, the independent nation of Hawaii was no more.”

   As we stared at the islands, captain Beatrice came up behind us and put her arms on our shoulders. “Come on, guys, enough of this dreary talk. There’s going to be a special party in the mess tonight and I want you to join us. Dress up in your finest. We’re going to have a ball!”