Journeys

The next morning after breakfast, we said farewell to James' and Aly's friends. Martin from Liverpool shook hands and everyone on the Department of Work and Pensions minibus waved. The springs creaked and the windows misted over as it drove away.

Saul pressed an embossed business card into Sean's hand. "Get in touch in a few weeks. I want you to recruit and supervise security in our hotels on the Black Sea. Fly to Albania as soon as you can."

Turning to Liz and me he said, "I'm sorry for the shock and disruption to the wedding. In the meantime, I would like Goliath to stay and get to know his half-sister and learn more English. Is it too big a favour to ask that he stay with you until I can rent a house nearby?"

"Err, well..." I stammered.

Liz took over and said, "Yes, of course he can stay. He can sleep on the floor in the guest room until we find a larger bed."

Saul conveyed the news to Goliath, who took Liz's hand in his dinner-plate hands and kissed it.

"We're off then folks," James said through the window of Liz's white Nissan. "The Mumbles at Swansea for a few days. We should get there by lunchtime." Liz and I waved. They intended taking a longer honeymoon in Ireland later in the year.

Joshua Federman was the last to leave. Becky drove him to Manchester airport to catch a noon flight to Amsterdam to connect with his flight to Tel Aviv. I felt sure that we would see him again.

That evening, Liz and I relaxed in our lounge and chatted with Sean, Rachel and Colleen. Sean announced, "Rachel, Colleen and I are off to Cork tomorrow. Rachel still has a few days before she needs to travel to the Philippines." This was to be her last assignment with UNICEF, before she joined the Morgan Foundation fulltime as CEO.

"Colleen has never flown before," Sean said, touching her shoulder as she bit her lip.

My friend then told us more than I had ever known him to. He said that his father, a corporal in the parachute regiment, had been killed in 1967 when Sean was five years old. His mother, Kathleen, died after a long battle with liver cancer, and Colleen had lived with her since she was 14 and cared for her when she became ill. "We are the only beneficiaries of her will," he explained.

*

After his trip to Ireland Sean and I were travelling to Cebu City in the Philippines on Morgan Business. Afterwards, he was going to catch up with Rachel, but she didn't yet know why.

On the plane, Sean's knuckles were white with tension and his cold grey eyes were focused. I smiled. He looked as though he was on a mission.

Cebu City, the oldest in the Philippines, was the main centre of commerce, trade, education, and industry in the Visayas. A travel magazine in 2007 had voted Cebu the 7th most popular tourist destination.

"A great place for a honeymoon," Sean said.

"A honeymoon first and a wedding afterwards, only you could think of that," I replied.

When we disembarked, a blast of heat hit us as if we were stepping into an oven.
Sean and I were meeting government ministers, negotiating with governments to alleviate their bulging prison populations by using our floating prisons, which were converted former passenger liners.

Our talks were positive. I recalled one of my dad's sayings, "Find a problem and solve it at a profit."

We took a stifling cab to our accommodation, which we had sourced quickly on the internet before leaving the UK, and the online descriptions were not perfectly accurate. The receptionist, Manuel, gave us a room key and pointed to the stairs, indicating the lift was broken. We were offered no help with our luggage.

The next morning, we prepared to leave the hotel.

"OK, can we go, Rambo?" I asked Sean.

"Aye, let's rock n' roll," Sean said, grinning.

Sean and James had schemed most of the night on Skype over Sean's great mission.

The taxi ferried us to the two-storey UNICEF building. The driver promised to wait while Sean and I entered the drab concrete building. We were greeted by a couple of women with "UNICEF" emblazoned on their tee-shirts. On the ground floor were a dozen girls, one as young as 11, unpacking boxes of bottled water. Blankets, tents, food bags, first aid kits, and equipment for making wells was spread across the floor.

Sean whispered to one of the girls, "Rachel. Is she here?"

She pointed to a flight of wooden stairs. The girls stopped working and started to chatter. They excitedly showed us Rachel's camp bed in a corner. Her laptop was open on her bedside table. The girls clapped their hands, understanding our mission when Sean explained. We gathered Rachel's belongings and laptop and tiptoed upstairs.

"Who? What?" Rachel said. Immediately a small mahogany-coloured boy sprang at us, glaring and barring our way.

"Amigos, Ignacio," Rachel said to him, "amigos," she repeated. The boy, dressed in a UNICEF tee-shirt and red shorts, sported a blood-stained bandage on his head, was barefoot, and looked like a street urchin.

"Been in the wars, have we?" Sean said. Rachel flew across the room and hugged him. "Who is the Artful Dodger?"

"That's Ignacio," Rachel stroked Sean's back. "But we call him Iggy. I found him in the city a few weeks ago when two men tried to mug me. Iggy jumped at them from an alleyway, swinging a dustbin lid. I think that's his home, he's very territorial."

"Good God," I eyed up the small, bedraggled child. His fists clenched. I think he knew Rachel was recounting his tale.

"The men attacked Iggy," Rachel said. "But he fought back with the dustbin lid, smashing them, kicking them and jumping at them with his little fists flailing."

"Dos grandes hombres," Iggy piped up, proudly pulling out his tee-shirt with his thumbs.

"He says two big men," Rachel laughed.

"OK, we get the gist," Sean said. Then he looked into Rachel's eyes and said firmly, "Now the reason we're here..." he paused as if expecting a drum roll, "...is to take you on our honeymoon and then get married." Sean breathed out.

"Err...isn't that the wrong way round?" Rachel asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Told ya," I said.

Sean and James' plan would come together over the next few hours. A honeymoon followed by a wedding.

"Only Sean and James could think of that," I spoke to the air.

*

James had negotiated the journey with the helicopter pilot for $5,000 on American Express. I waved the Amex card under his nose to assure him he would be paid.

At the private airfield adjacent to Ninoy Aquino International, Sean squared his shoulders and smiled as Rachel, Iggy and I boarded, and then he negotiated with the pilot to sell him the use of his emergency life raft and helicopter survival kit. From this transaction, the pilot made a further thousand. The average wage in the Philippines was 150 pesos or two US dollars per day. Even taking into consideration his fuel costs, the pilot would still have earned seven years' wages in one night.

"What about the other thing?" Sean asked. "Another thousand?" The pilot looked left and right, and then passed a brown paper parcel across the seat to Sean.

I saw Sean open it and pull out a handgun with two 15-round magazines. He stuffed the gun into his waistband and the clips in his shirt pocket. The hot weather survival kit from the helicopter would be a huge bonus, especially the canned water, food packets, shovel, sunblock, frying pan, and above all, the water desalinator. We all knew clean drinking water was essential for survival, honeymoon or not.

Rachel dragged Iggy to the helicopter. "Es OK, mi amigo," she placated him, tousling his hair.

"Friggin' gooseberry! Some honeymoon this will be." Sean smiled and Rachel overheard his mocking comment and pursed her lips.

Taking his place in the rear next to Rachel, Iggy noticed Sean's weapon. He mimed a shooting gesture and blew on his fingers.

The helicopter flew low over the foliage. Its whirring blades disturbed fruit bats in eucalyptus trees, and the helicopter lurched as we made a quick turn.

"Madre de Dios," Iggy called out, crossing himself three times.

As the pilot hovered ten feet above the beach on the island we were soon to land on, the wind generated by the rotating blades blew up sand and water. Like so many of the Visayas islands, there were rocky promontories north and south. In the centre of the island, dense forest proliferated.

Sean threw out the emergency life raft and the survival kit, jumped out of the helicopter and forward rolled in the sand. The helicopter landed with a bump. Rachel took Iggy's hand and they disembarked, keeping their heads low.

I threw Sean a satellite phone and shouted above the noise, "Call me if you need to, otherwise I'll see you on Sunday." The helicopter ascended, blades spinning, and I waved to the trio on the beach.

came quickly as I journeyed back to the private field near the airport. I caught a flight to the capital and thought of something I had read in The Life of Pi: "Survival starts with me. It is a mistake to hope too much and do too little."

I knew that Sean would relish the survival experience on the island. But would Paradise Island be an island paradise for Rachel and Iggy?

*

Sean sat Rachel and Ignacio down under the shade of some acacia trees and gave them basic instructions for their next few days. The orange life raft became their sleeping quarters, on a grassy area covered in cogon grass that Sean and Ignacio flattened under other acacia trees for shade.

"Staying for periods in the shade after noon is important," Sean lectured, "the sun will be scorching hot. The temperature soars to 32 degrees Celsius or 90 degrees Fahrenheit. The effectiveness of sunblock is limited, so use wet mud if you feel your skin is burning. Dehydration is our real danger and will be until the water desalinator is set up. I'll demonstrate that afterwards. Seawater or urine must not be drunk, however desperate we may be."

"Yes, Sir," Rachel mocked a salute. "Did you book this honeymoon all by yourself?"

"Pissing or shitting is not allowed near the camp," Sean said, eyeballing Ignacio while Rachel translated.

"No sheet...no pees," Iggy said.

"I'll take Ignacio and we'll build latrines. Urine scent attracts rats, which attract snakes. Faeces brings flies which carry diseases."

Rachel appeared worried at the thought of snakes. Sean stressed that many snakes were harmless but that there could be poisonous snakes on the island. The party had no anti-venom, so avoiding danger was critical.

"But we have the bat phone, right, Sweetie?" Rachel pointed to the dingy. "We can always phone home like ET."

Phone home, ET phone home," Iggy mimicked. He knew some English.

ignored them and said, "Nobody must enter the forest area or sea alone, or walk barefoot. Animals will not attack unless a person makes a threat. Insects and snakes could be more likely to bite a naked foot. Corals, spiky fish, jellyfish, rocks, all can injure, so nothing must be eaten unless I approve. There are poisonous plants, fungi and bacteria."

"This honeymoon gets worse and worse," Rachel said, rubbing her eyes and feigning tears. "Can we go back?"

Again, he ignored her. "I'll light a fire, showing everyone how to use matches, kindling and twigs.

"The fire must be kept alive at all times. If the fire goes out and all our matches are used up, we'll use a magnifying glass or flint to relight the fire."

"You light my fire," Rachel said teasingly and blew Sean a kiss.

"Our main priority is drinking water," Sean said. "We have a few water cans with the emergency survival kit, and some water purifying tablets if needed. Rain can be collected and drained into the spare water bag, but if we have too much rain we could be in the shit."

Rachel tutted, "Language, Mr Casey", she said, and wagged her finger. Ignacio laughed at Sean's mock bow.

The start of the monsoon season could bring massive challenges.
Sean took the solar-powered water desalinator and showed it to his yawning audience.

Then he took a pocket guide out of his pocket and passed it to Rachel. "The SAS survival guide can show you what to eat, what snakes are dangerous and how to find water. There's water in fruit and vegetables. Most healthy adults need between one and a half to three litres a day. You can judge whether you're drinking enough by the colour of your urine. If it's a pale straw colour, then your fluid intake is probably fine. If your urine is dark yellow, you probably need to drink more."

When Rachel translated, Ignacio said aloud, "No sheet, no pees." Once Sean had shown Rachel and Iggy how to operate the desalinator, Rachel took the bucket to the water's edge and filled it.

"It's like playing with buckets and spades at Western on Sea with my mum and dad," Rachel said, joy written all over her face.

"Well, I know you're Bristol born and savvy, but from what I remember there are no wild animals at Western on Sea. There is a proliferation of wild animals here and some can be very dangerous," Sean said.

"You're a real party poop sometimes, Mr Casey, but don't worry, I have Iggy to protect me." When she translated, Ignacio beat his chest. She laughed and then Sean laughed.

*

Iggy lay down on the beach, using his tee-shirt as a pillow.

"Tell him he'll be eaten alive by sand-flies," Sean said.

"Moscas de la arena," Rachel called.

Iggy got up and sat with Rachel and Sean, their backs against the inflated survival raft, its bright orange tubes and canopy contrasting with the green foliage behind it. Iggy walked to the sea, his bare feet slapping on the wet sand. Bending down he drew seawater to refill the desalination contraption. Sean was growing to like him.

"Mi casa es tu casa," Sean called to him, smiling.

In the evening, squashed together in the life-raft tent, the three of them bedded down for the night. "No nookie tonight then," Rachel giggled.

The chatter of the monkeys the next morning woke them up, the animals swinging in the tree branches and jabbering. Ignacio imitated them and then spotted a lizard a few yards from the camp. He chased after it with a large stick.

"Leave that, it'll do us no harm," Sean said, "come on, let's lay some traps."

He laid a few snares in the forest areas where there were small tracks. On the way back, he spotted a large durian fruit, weighing about ten pounds. The skin had long sharp spines so Sean inserted his combat knife blade, separating the fruit into two halves. He peeled the fruit and removed the spikes while Ignacio, the eager apprentice, watched with fascination, his eyes on the knife.

At the camp, the pair made coconut shell containers for preserving any meat they happened to snare, adding sea salt from the cone of the desalinator. While Rachel prepared salad for the evening meal, they resumed fishing. As the sun was sinking, Ignacio tugged at Sean's arm and pointed at a fin near their fishing pool.

"Meester Sean. Beeg Jaws!"

The pair raised their lines and watched the fin. Incredibly, the fin lay submerged a few feet from the water's edge and then instead of a shark, a turtle's head and scaly neck broke the surface with a spurt. It pulled itself slowly up the beach, leaving a shallow trench behind it.
Sean discouraged Ignacio from chasing the turtle. Carrying him kicking and struggling back to the camp, Sean asked Rachel to translate his gibbering.

"He wants to ride it, like in the Swiss Family Robinson," Rachel translated.
Iggy nodded, "Si­," and mimed riding.

"Jesus. Does he get all his words and ideas from the TV and cinema?" Sean asked.

"He was abandoned as a toddler at an orphanage," Rachel said, "he spent some time in foster homes but kept running away. From what I can make out, he's about 11 and he's lived on the streets since he was eight years old. Maybe he sneaks into cinemas. It's all he has."

"God in heaven," Sean uttered. "OK, tell him he can ride it if we can catch it. These things are fast," he added with a wink.

Following the turtle's trail along the beach, the three of them arrived at the place where the turtle was busy excavating the beach with her flippers. Sand was flying upwards in spurts and a small hill emerged.

"It's a medium-sized sea turtle which could be good in soup for days." Sean wiped his hands on his pants. Rachel's face showed horror at the thought. Slowly they crept towards the turtle, keeping some feet away.

"Aww, it's going to lay eggs," Rachel said, her eyes moist. "I read that females nest a few weeks after mating, usually during the warmest months of the year. Most females return to the same nesting beach each year." The turtle heaved sand with her huge flippers, creating mounds.

"Aye, and from what I remember she deposits 50 to 200 ping-pong-shaped eggs into the cavity. The eggs are soft-shelled and are papery or leathery in texture. What it means is that we'll have scrambled eggs for dinner. We won't take them all. We'll leave most to hatch. Tell young Mowgli here what we're gonna do. He can have his ride when she's done."

Rachel explained what Sean had said, and Iggy pointed to his chest, "Mowgli."

Around the campfire that night, Sean told stories of Robinson Crusoe and Robin Hood. Rachel talked of King Arthur and his knights. Ignacio had no stories to tell but his face lit up when Sean talked about Robin Hood and his Merry Men.

"What day is it, my fair knight?" Rachel asked. "And I wonder what Little John is doing?"

It's Thursday June 14th," Sean said. "Good night, and good night John boy wherever you are."