When the Earlys recall Don, we think of his tall, bony frame cutting across the glaring white coral of the Marshall Islands. He had a great slow-coming smile that started and ended after transforming his entire face with a twinkle in his eyes. And, he had large, strong hands. More times than not his fingers were cut or nicked from his work and had fascinating dark rings around the nails. I especially liked standing next to him during Daily Office. During the passing of the peace, his hands said more in a reassuring way than words could. They reminded you of something that you had forgotten: “The peace of God is yours this day.”
He knew everything one could possibly know about two things on the atoll: (1) pieces of scrap metal (often times rusty metal) and (2) dogs. I speak of those caramel colored dogs with long noses and substantial tails that all look the same due to close breeding. He never went anywhere that he didn’t have two or three Majuro dogs following him as if they were an integral part of his team at the Multi-Purpose Repair Center. When he worked in the repair center, he liked to listen to classical music and carry on conversations with the dogs. When he stopped and petted the dogs, his touch literally drove the dogs crazy. The would wag their tail until they threw themselves off balance. All you could see were dog legs up in the air and tails going sixty miles an hour in all directions.
Majuro must have been paradise for man such as Don who got his kicks out of fixing things. It seemed that every possible moving thing on the atoll was in a constant state of disrepair. He was always working on five or six different things at a time. It if wasn’t a broken down truck, then it was an outboard motor, or a big refrigerated storage unit, or a debunked generator off a copra freighter. Majuro was the darnedest place for things breaking. The consequences of some little something small enough to hold between two fingers were complicated, costly and extremely time consuming. Why there wasn’t a neighborhood Ace Hardware within a million miles. Replacement parts were eight to ten hours north every other day by Continental jet airplane in Guam or Hawaii – if there. This impossible situation proved over and over again to be the choice chemistry that ignited Don’s unbelievable creativity and resourcefulness.
One of our favorite incidents involved a small freighter, the Tatami Maru. It was stranded in the bay at Kwajalein Atoll. Its Marshallese owner hired Don and flew him to Kwajalein to appraise the freighter’s condition; and if possible, fix it. don boarded the plane to Kwajalein with a handful of tools and a very serious and determined look on his face. We did not hear from him for several days. The one morning among the scratchy, spurting of the CB radio, we heard, “Kitco Majuro, calling Kito Majuro. This is Don Baker. Do you read me? Come in please.”
“This is Kitco Majuro. Go ahead Don. How is it going with the Tatami Maru?” Leah yelled, straining for Don to hear her.
“The engine room of the Tatami Maru is three feet deep in water… She is listing to the far right… And then in his most sober, deeply dramatic voice, The crew has abandoned ship … But, Elijah (the ship’s engineer) and I remain.”
The CB radio sputtered even louder; then all was quiet. Nothing. We had lost contact with Don. You can imagine all the dangerous things that went through our minds during the next several weeks as we waited word from Don. We imagined the worst of tragedies. Headlines might read: “Engineer and Mechanic with Screwdriver in Hand Go Down with the Ship” or “Tatami Marui Feared Lost at Sea”.
Then, one afternoon a Marshallese man came running into the Kitco offices, shouting that the Tatami Maru had been sighted. Sure enough in a short time the ship docked. Elijah and Don disembarked walking tall and straight down the gangplank and beaming with the smiles of quiet, unassuming heroes.
They had done it. Don relayed all the details as only an authentic Australian storyteller could before an enthralled audience. He explained how he and Elijah rigged up a forge on the back of the ship. With the use of coconut hulls, they built up a fire and sustained its temperature long enough to forge a replacement part from scraps of metal and an automobile hub cap. and with a wing and lots of prayers, they daringly smile the 275 miles in open seas to bring her home.
Some believed Don and Elijah were at the center of a modern day miracle. Miracle or not, the sailing of the old ship was a sign that gave many Marshallese – and those of us who stood close – a reason to lift our heads with hope.
The Marshall Islands of the Pacific is today a nation because its people rediscovered courage and self-determination. Perhaps that new nation exists today in part because of men and women such as Don Baker who used their less than perfect lives to turn matter into spirt. God is amazingly generous with grace.
