"I Will Be Back for You" Epilog of Cromwell's Last Journey to Pago Pago

Getting out of our cab, we walked towards the entrance where stood a mini skirted barker calling us over. The young Samoan lady pointed towards another woman in a mini-skirt who opened the door for us. However, we didn’t walk into a club right away! We found ourselves in dirt floored dining hall full of tuna cannery workers eating their dinner from a Chinese restaurant! These were huge men who looked as if they were attending NFL training camp. We didn’t notice that the place was a restaurant because we were watchful that one of these intoxicated ogres might pick a fight. I’m sure if one decided to do so, he would win no matter how many of us there were. The same young lady who opened the restaurant door ran and passed us to open the main door to the club. Out came loud hip hop music, multi-colored lights and to the left after the entrance was a typical bar with the mirrored wall adorned with all types of liquor. 

I looked towards a table where sat four or five Samoan hostesses in conversation. There was one that caught my eye and we made eye contact. After taking a seat, these ladies came running to us. The one I made eye contact with sat next to me. She was wearing blue slacks, short white shirt with exposed midriff and introduced herself as “Hana.” She told me she was from Western Samoa and I commented to her that everyone on the island is from Western Samoa. I don’t think she understood what I was saying. I asked her if she had a boyfriend and replied swiftly with a resounding NO! I found this hard to believe and could not grasp that someone this attractive would not have a boyfriend. It didn’t matter, as this was my first night with Hana who was 28 years old! 

I was there for entertainment and drinks while she was there for business. Whenever my beer would run dry, she would ask in adorable voice “You want another Vailima?” Several times I went to the bar to buy another beer and a rum and coke for her. Actually it was 95% coke and 5% rum because she was working. Unlike hostesses in Korean bars in Honolulu, Hana did not have a small beer belly from drinking overpriced cheap light beer bought by customers. She asked me if I wanted to dance! If there is one thing I cannot do is dance! I didn’t have enough alcohol in my system to go on the floor and unintentionally make a fool of myself. She looked upset and then bored when I refused her offer. However, I was not about to lose her to someone else who would dance with her.  I grabbed her hand, took her to the floor and danced. Yes, I made a complete fool of myself not only to her but also to everyone else. I danced not only once but several times after that. I finally had enough alcohol in my system to be uninhibited and this broke the ice with Hana. 

We had pleasant conversations though I don’t think she really understood what I was talking about. She knew I worked on a science ship. My troubles that led me to sail to American Samoa were temporarily behind me. Hana to me was not a hostess at a nightclub in a remote South Pacific island 5,200 miles away from home. She was someone who made the world a lot smaller as the evening wore on. I felt as if I’ve known her for quite some time and refused to believe that just a few hours earlier I had no inkling she existed. There was something alluring about her and I felt there was chemistry. But I surmised the feeling was one way.  After tonight I was only a business transaction that would be forgotten next morning. Despite her denials of not having a boyfriend, I knew she had someone in her life. I should just discount this night as an experience that will turn into another sea story. The fun ended at midnight when the master told us to finish up our drinks and we were going back to the hotel. I told Hana I had to go and she responded with a look of disappointment. I gave her a nice tip and thanked her for good unadulterated evening of fun. I told her I would be back tomorrow.

The cab ride to the hotel turned dramatic upon our arrival at the Rainmaker. The driver had changed his rate from five dollars for the ride to five dollars per person. We stood in disbelief and expected sooner or later that somebody would try to stick the screws to us. The master told us to go to our rooms and he would take care of the dispute. As we walked away I could overhear him tell the driver that he quoted five dollars for the entire group and should abide to his original quote. The master steadfast and refused to pay the twenty to twenty five dollar cab fare as demanded by the driver. We feared that the cabbie would call the cops and whom would they believe and stand up for? Certainly not the outsiders that had come to this tropical island to deliver them the ship. They argued back and forth for a few more minutes then the master told him he gave him five dollars and added another five for the tip and said that was a generous tip considering he tried to gyp us out of more money. The cabbie relented and we retired to our rooms and look to the next day. We were spending our one and only Thanksgiving in Pago Pago together.

Much of Pago Pago was closed in observance of Thanksgiving Day. An authentic American holiday celebrated in the South Pacific. Usually its turkey, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes with never ending barrage of football and dinner begins with grandpa carving the turkey. But this one for me was not to be the type of Thanksgiving celebrated on the mainland. After moving from San Diego to Utah, the traditional family dinners gave away to Thanksgiving celebrated at casinos in Wendover, Nevada. The best part was no clean up after eating. Just hop in the car and drive a hundred miles back home to Dugway and finish the day. In Seattle, turkey dinners gave away to sushi platters and all sorts of “multicultural” food and activities that would make a traditionalist rage with anger. When I was growing up, Thanksgiving was never a big deal for me. Our family didn’t have a real Thanksgiving dinner until 1970 in Albuquerque. Raised on Air Force bases, Dad usually took us to the mess halls as my mother was never a fan of turkey meat nonetheless cooking it! So Thanksgiving I had in Pago Pago was not quaint for me. We found a restaurant in Nu’uli that served Thanksgiving dinner with live broadcast of NFL football in the background on a 20” ray-tube TV. This was our first and last Thanksgiving dinner together but these are the ones you will always remember and cherish. Our server was a Samoan woman dressed in traditional Pulatasi. The restaurant if not for the clientele and coconut leaf décor with straw matting on the walls could pass for any restaurant in Seattle, Washington or Wichita Falls, Texas. 

We had our dinner and returned to the hotel room. I turned on the black and white set and on one of the channels was a local high school football game. I don’t think it was live but looked like an island championship game. I remembered the boys who were playing it were enormous. You could hear the crashing of helmets of players hitting hard from the brittle loudspeaker in the archaic TV set. In the background you could hear the beating of the drums and both boys and girls dressed in school uniform lava lavas shouting school slogans. Each school student body take turns disparaging each other in a friendly, at least it should be, rivalry. There weren’t any scantily dressed cheerleaders leading cheers. That type of uniform is frowned upon in this island conservative society. So what was going on the field was very American and American Samoa was to contribute tremendously to football in both the college and pro ranks but the activities in the grandstand were very Samoan.

We gathered in the master’s room to decide what to do for the night. Everything was closed except for a few restaurants and we could not buy any liquor due to the holiday. We decided to throw a party in his room but didn’t know where to get the booze! Someone suggested to invite girls from the club we were at night before. To buy liquor, we drove to the Mexican restaurant, which was preparing for the evening business. Spoke to the manager and he agreed to sell us hard liquor from his stock. That was settled, now to find beer! Nightclubs of course, and same deal at another nightclub preparing for evening business as life gradually return to normal after a weekday holiday. Last but not least, ladies! We gathered a list of ladies we would invite from the club. If they had to work, we would compensate them. I had my pick and she was “Hana.” We returned to the canneries and walked into the club with a counterpart. I spotted Hana at a table in the empty club that just opened. She looked stunning in her black striped mini-dress. She looked at me but I could not read her face and body language on whether she was glad to see me, not know who I am or mentally asking what the hell are you doing here? I sat next to her and explained that we were having a Thanksgiving party at the hotel and talk her boss into letting her come with me. After haggling over compensation, he let three of them come with us. Hana was one of them. She got into the pickup truck with me and we were on our way. Hana was with me and I had not a care in the world. We were going to spend my last full night in Pago Pago together. I didn’t drink a drop that night. 

After conversation washed out in the master’s room, Hana and I decided to go to my room and call it a night. In old-fashioned Hollywood metaphor, water drops off a flower petal or two logs falls into a lake from a waterfall. We were awoken by a knock on the door! Strange things can race through your mind in an unfamiliar place when you hear that. Especially if you are with a woman you really don’t know much about. It could be cops in the “moral patrol” getting the wrong idea about what you are doing, robbers wanting your cash or worst of all an angry boyfriend! We quickly got dressed and opened the door as far as the latch would let us. It was Jeri, Hana’s sister, telling her they had to go. The night before Hana looked saddened and twenty-four hours later it was my turn to undergo her feelings. The sisters blurted in disagreement and without a kiss she was gone! What an undignified ending to what started as a wonderful night! Like a fading sequence in a movie, I went back to bed and fell asleep in disappointment.

Friday morning, and we were going back to Hawaii tonight! A counterpart rang me and suggested we go to breakfast. As I opened the door, standing at the veranda was Hana’s younger sister, Jeri and another young lady, May, who led us and opened the door to the nightclub several nights ago. I glanced at the Jeri and asked, “Where is your sister?” “She’s at the apartment” she replied. Jeri and May had followed the master and junior officer from town back to our hotel to the master’s displeasure. Jeri was a bouncy twenty two year old while May was reserved and a mother of several children. I told my counterpart that I would skip breakfast and told Jeri I was going to get the car keys and we would go get her sister. The junior officer was the custodian of the keys and he too wanted to come along. May was the one who sat with him two nights before. We went to the apartment to pick up Hana. My spirits lifted when I knew I would see her one more time and hope to make up for the unseemly ending the night before. When we arrived, Jeri ran into the apartment to wake her sister. A few minutes later the two sisters came out with sodas and we all went sightseeing northern Tutuila. Jeri had brought a cassette of modern island music that provided background. I had my arms around Hana in the back seat and she didn’t utter a word to me. Was it “I hate myself in the morning” after last night or she didn’t care to remember who I was? All sorts of false impressions were in my mind. Later she told me she was confused about the events involving us the last couple of days.

We stopped at a viewpoint and watched dolphins swim in the distance. I was going to take a picture of Hana but changed my mind at which I would regret later. Again she gave me a faint smile and back to looking at the ocean. Before we reached the village where the road ends, Jeri climbed a coconut tree and picked off a couple seedpods to the ground and threw those in the back seat. Not familiar with local protocol, you could say she pilfered those coconuts from its rightful owner. It was getting towards dinner hour and Jeri, May and Hana had to go back and eat dinner before going to work. We drove them to the house of the owner of the nightclub. We got to our destination and I got out to let Hana out. She hardly said anything the entire day with the exception of the faint smile and glaring look out of the corner of her eye with a raised eyebrow looking as if to question what I said or had done. I told her to be careful, take care of herself and I don’t know why I did but I told her “I will be back for you.” I planted a kiss on her cheek and said goodbye. As we drove off I turned around to take one last look at her as she and the other girls turned and walked towards the house.

The junior officer and I returned to the hotel and we had dinner with the rest of the crew at the subpar restaurant of the Rainmaker. We checked out of the hotel and went to the airport to ready for our red eye flight to Honolulu. As I finished checking in I looked at my watch and noticed it was 8:30 PM, Hana would be starting her shift. We boarded the plane and luckily for us the flight was not full. I had a window seat but on the starboard side. As we took off from Pago Pago I stretched my neck upwards to look at the lights of Pago Pago through the port windows, knowing somewhere down there was Hana, working another night returning to her normal routine while I was heading home. I converted the middle seats into a bed and fell asleep during the five-hour flight to Hawaii. After landing in Hawaii the remaining crew of Cromwell’s final voyage went their separate ways. I saw the Cromwell’s master for one last time at the airport as he went to his gate to head back to Chicago and his wife waiting in Ohio. I was flying back to Seattle. On the way home I took out my wallet and found a yellow piece of paper with notes I had scribbled from the first night at the nightclub. The first mate had given it to me and I completely forgot I had it. On it was the name of Hana and the address where I can write to her and at the top was the phone number of her friend, the bartender of the nightclub. I folded the paper back up and tried to fall asleep after a long day. My head kept swirling with the promise I made to Hana that I would come back for her and was determined to do so. 

The plane could not land in Seattle due to fog. The only things I could see besides the city lights trying to pierce the clouds were the Space Needle and the skyscrapers of downtown. We circled the city for 45 minutes then diverted to Portland and landed there. The airlines promised to get buses to take us to Seattle. But the promise was broken and kept asking the airline representative but never got a positive answer. Many of the passengers rented cars and paid the one-way penalty to get to the Emerald City. Other passengers were sleeping on the floor near the luggage ramps and I stayed awake planning to sleep on the bus. Two young coeds returning on the same flight after vacationing in Hawaii were sleeping near a luggage ramp where their britches exposed for the world to see. One old man got excited and tapped my shoulder to tell me what he saw! No wonder that dirty old man got excited at the view! His excitement ended immediately when he obeyed the call from his lumux of a wife.

The two coeds woke up, approached me and asked if I wanted to help share the cost of renting a car so they can catch their connecting flights from Seattle. One was going back to Ohio and the other Idaho. I was tired from keeping myself awake and agreed with them and caught a shuttle to the car rental agency. As I boarded the shuttle with the two girls, the dirty old man gave me thumbs up with an open mouth winked as if I scored! These young ladies were only couple of years older than my daughter. With other people in the airport waiting, I was flattered that these two coeds who I never met until now trusted me. I was hoping they could legally drive while I slept. They were rested but I was not after the flight from South Pacific. Unfortunately one was eighteen and the other nineteen so I drove the 120 mile trek struggling to stay awake stopping at every rest stop having coffee, freezing on a cold December night because we were all used to Hawaii and trying to have conversation with these teenagers. Of course there wasn’t much to talk about except for their vacation in Hawaii, as generation gap still existed. We drove by the off ramp to the road that went to Aberdeen and pointed out that is where Curt Cobain is from. They weren’t familiar with who he was. We made it to SeaTac and dropped the girls off in plenty of time for their connecting flights home. They thanked me and paid $50 apiece for the rental. I drove home 30 miles up the road, exhausted just wanting to lie down and sleep. I got to my one-bedroom apartment in Edmonds, which was cold after a three-month absence. I took the yellow paper out of my wallet and put it next to the phone, then fell asleep after turning the heater.

After I woke, it was still Sunday afternoon so I drove to Burlington to get my son and daughter, as I have not seen them in three months. They stayed at the apartment while I took the rental car back to SeaTac, turn it in and got a receipt for my travel claim. When that transaction ended, that was the end of my role in Townsend Cromwell’s last NOAA voyage to American Samoa. However because of that yellow piece of paper another journey was about to begin to fulfill a promise I kept with a woman I barely knew five thousand two hundred miles away.