Deliver the goods

He might be on a freight run of French Polynesian islands, but Tom Koppel is hardly expected to pull his weight.

Ocean swells break on the concrete jetty at Hiva Oa in the eastern Pacific. Water cascades over four or five bare-chested French-Polynesian sailors covered with tattoos. They struggle to steady a 10-metre wooden whaleboat, full of nervous passengers, that heaves violently, grinding its gunwales against the pier.

Shouting "vite, vite" ("quick, quick"), the sailors lift my wife and me like toys and relay us down into the crowded boat. We crouch and hang on tight as they cast off the lines, gun the big outboard and punch their way out to where our ship is anchored.

Drenched but safe, we are relieved to reach Aranui 3, a freighter with extensive but simple accommodations that is the commercial lifeline to Hiva Oa and its neighbouring Marquesas Islands. Wild and wet shore landings and close contact with the crew are among the highlights of a voyage that affords us glimpses of life in one of the world's most remote and enchanting archipelagos.

With 130 fellow passengers, we board at Tahiti and sail north-east on what is going to be a relaxed, 15-day island circuit. The next morning we anchor in the vast turquoise lagoon at the Fakarava atoll in the Tuamotu Islands for a beach picnic and snorkelling. Two days and 1000 kilometres later, we reach the volcanic Marquesas, with their lush valleys and towering jungle peaks.

This is where the vision of a South Seas paradise originated: where there are sexually uninhibited native women, and trees laden with breadfruit, papaya, avocado and coconut; where you'll find the islands of Herman Melville's novel Typee; where Thor Heyerdahl lived and conceived his Kon-Tiki expedition; where the painter Paul Gauguin and the singer Jacques Brel are buried. It is still a paradise in many ways. And arriving on board a working ship, run by Polynesians with deep local roots, is the ideal way to experience it.

In common with many shops and businesses in French Polynesia, the Aranui is owned by a Chinese family from Tahiti. The captain and other officers are Marquesans or Tahitians (they speak Polynesian, French and some English). So are the deckhands and the kitchen and cabin staff. The crew are free to swim in the small topside pool during their free time, drink in the bar at night, enjoy the (minimal) entertainment and dance with passengers. Along with the officers, they are invited to join passengers several times for dinners in the main dining room. We get to know them as individuals, not just as crane operators or chambermaids.

"It has been that way since the start of the company decades ago," says big, bearded Pascal Erhel Hatuuku, one of four shipboard hosts. "It leads to great long-term worker loyalty." Our guide on shore visits, he grew up on the island of Ua Pou, studied mathematics at a French university and returned to start an eco-tourism company.

Aranui 3 is nearly new and efficiently run, but more laid back than other ships. One overtly gay waiter, wearing flowers in his hair, sashays barefoot through the dining room and throws his arms around any guests who seem receptive. A whiff of ganja can sometimes be detected on the side decks, where the crew relaxes. An American passenger carries on a discreet affair with one of the Polynesian sailors. Except for the captain, officers usually wear shorts and T-shirts, and there is no "aye-aye, sir" formality.

There are six major islands in the Marquesas and about 15 sizeable villages, but only 10,000 inhabitants. Aranui 3 usually stops at two villages each day to deliver freight: drums of fuel, trucks and motorcycles, building materials, canned goods, cases of beer and soft drink, refrigerated meats and cheeses. And we load up on local products: sacks of limes and copra (dried coconut meat) and barrels of foul-smelling noni-fruit juice.