So, there we were. As we tied the boat up a small crowd gathered on the concrete pier looking across at us. A motley group of about twelve or fifteen hard looking fellas giving us the eye. This was making me feel uncomfortable.

To my extreme relief, the little group shuffled and parted and a smartly turned out young officer appeared at the edge of the pier. He was the commander of the Navy vessel and he addressed Peter in Oxford English.

“We don’t get many pleasure vessels in these waters. Is everything OK ? Are you lost ?” he enquired.

Peter had to admit that he didn’t know exactly where we were and explained that our captain was feeling a bit below par, casting a glance to the prow where the captain had now collapsed in an untidy heap.

While this exchange was taking place, I was looking around at the little settlement we had stumbled on. Basically, it was a ‘truck-stop’ (remember I don’t have a nautical background) for a fleet of trawlers.

As my eyes became more accustomed to the gloom, I could see probably thirty trawlers tucked away inside this little cove, neatly tied up together. Ashore, I could see a couple of guys playing pool in a little bar and there was the sound of men talking and laughing, mingled with music floating across the water.

I turned my attention back to the conversation that was going on between Peter and the Naval officer.

“Well, look”, I hear the officer say. “You’re in a dangerous place here. These fishermen are Cambodians and they are a pretty rough lot. We try to keep and eye on them. They don’t seem to fight between themselves as much when we are here. We also try to stop them from smuggling things, you know kids, drugs, guns, you name it”.

He continued, “Might I suggest you tie up your boat a bit further down the pier so that my men can keep an eye on you until the morning. It doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere tonight”.

With that, the officer signalled to a couple of his crewmen and the sailors dispersed the small crowd of onlookers and sh