Sher Mohamed pleading with the Japanese Officer to spare the boatman's life. Photo: Rafique Sher Mohamed
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Boat rides can be unique and unforgettable experiences. Whether it’s rowing a boat on a tranquil lake for recreation, taking a casual sampan ride powered by a motor engine across a scenic river, or enjoying a pleasure cruise, they all offer a chance to escape the stress of daily life and to enjoy exhilarating and rejuvenating moments on the water.
I wish my father, Sher Mohamed Allah Baksh, had such an experience to share with his family. Unfortunately, his most unforgettable boat ride was far from pleasant; it was a harrowing ordeal. The mere mention of a boat ride never fails to remind me of this incident.
During World War II, in 1944, when Malaya was under Japanese occupation, my father was a Marine Officer based in Port Swettenham. In the course of his duties, he likely had his fair share of routine boat rides. However, life during the occupation was anything but ordinary, and one particular incident proved to be an adventure he would never forget.
One day, my father’s Japanese superior, a colonel, decided to attend a function in Kuala Selangor and instructed my father to accompany him. A boatman was arranged to take them there.
The journey to Kuala Selangor was uneventful, and the function went on late into the night. By the time he returned to the boat, the colonel was heavily intoxicated. In pitch darkness, they began their return trip to Port Swettenham.
The silence on the boat was palpable, broken only by the rhythmic sound of the water. Soon, the colonel fell asleep. My father, however, felt something was amiss. Sensing trouble, he quietly asked the boatman if he knew their location. The boatman, visibly frightened, admitted that he couldn’t see anything and had lost his sense of direction.
Before long, they came across a tongkang (a Chinese junk boat) and asked for directions. To their shock, they were informed that they had strayed far off course and were now in Indonesian waters near Sumatra.
The commotion woke the colonel from his drunken stupor. Realising the gravity of the situation, he became furious and began yelling in Japanese. My father had never seen him so enraged. The colonel berated the boatman and, in his drunken fury, struck him with the scabbard of his sword. Terrified for his life, the poor boatman begged for mercy.
My father, fearing the worst, intervened and pleaded with the colonel to spare the boatman. The colonel, still fuming, declared that the boatman deserved to die for his recklessness. Unsheathing his sword, he prepared to strike the terrified man. But my father managed to calm him down, reassuring him that they would find their way back safely. Reluctantly, the colonel sat back down, muttering curses under his breath.
At daybreak, they resumed their journey. Exhausted, drenched and famished, they finally arrived in Port Swettenham. What was supposed to be a routine trip had turned into a nightmare. My father silently thanked his stars that the colonel hadn’t turned his wrath on him.
At the jetty, the colonel stormed off, still bitter and seething. The boatman, pale and in pain, thanked my father profusely for saving his life.
When my father returned home, his wife – unaware of the ordeal – was overjoyed to see him safe. She had spent the entire night praying for his return, her concern heightened by his sudden disappearance. Seeing him drenched and exhausted only added to her relief.
Even decades later, my father could vividly recall the details of that unforgettable boat ride. Though he was not one to share wartime stories readily, this was one tale that, with some coaxing, he recounted with remarkable animation.
To this day, I can still picture him sitting on the living room sofa, narrating the events with gusto. The story of his harrowing night on the boat remains etched in my memory – not only for its drama but also for the humour with which my father chose to retell it. What could have been a grim tale of survival became, in his hands, a thrilling and oddly amusing episode from his life.
