And the Sea Will Tell by Vincent Bugliosi, Bruce Henderson Page B

herself.
    She was a navigator now, a real oceangoing navigator. She had achieved something amazing.
    It had been nineteen days since she and Buck left Hawaii. Along with Jennifer’s log, they’d kept count on a calendar illustrated with a picture of an old whaling boat. To be sure, they certainly hadn’t broken any speed records, but then the Iola was no world-class racer. The plan, of necessity, was slow and steady progress toward their destination. But they’d done it, and even the dogs got caught up in the moment, barking merrily.
    Jennifer darted below and brought up two glasses of straight dark rum. She and Buck sat contentedly on deck, their legs dangling over the side. As a light wind pushed them through the gentle seas directly toward their destination, they gazed raptly at the slit of land on the horizon.
    “To our island,” Buck said with feeling.
    They clinked glasses and drank to their good fortune. Only now, with the end in sight, did Jennifer allow herself to admit how easily they could have failed.
    When they approached close enough, they altered course to come around well west of the island to a narrow channel indicated on the chart. Entering the island’s lagoon was not going to be easy, thanks to Buck’s laziness. He had neglected for so long to bring their motor inside that salt water and humidity had caused it to freeze up. They would have to sail through the narrow channel, hemmed in on both sides by treacherous reefs, without power.
    But Jennifer did not want to give in to a downer. Eagerly taking up the binoculars, she saw surf breaking over the hidden reef and a sparkling white beach beckoning on the north shore. What had seemed undefined bushiness from a distance now became visible as well-defined coconut trees —thousands of them. They made a dark, thick barrier, and their fronds waved almost helplessly, idiotically. Jennifer, not knowing why, found them unsettling.
    June 19. LAND HO! At 4:15 P.M. we spotted Palmyra off our port side. Wind very light—unable to make landfall before dark. Headed east. Strong winds all night. Then becalmed .
June 20. Spotted Palmyra again this morning, dead west. Winds very light. Very frustrating—rainsqualls and enough wind to get us just about where we were yesterday at this time. But then the wind ceased. So near and yet so far!
     
    Not only were they frustrated to be so close yet unable to reach the lagoon, they were also fearful of going aground on a submerged reef. To play it safe, they headed away from the island just before nightfall, drifting a little out to sea. They could have made it into waters shallow enough for an anchorage, but the unseen jagged coral reefs might rip apart the boat’s hull. To enter the lagoon, they had to ease through the channel. With the outboard motor fouled, they were dependent on a fortuitous shift in the wind.
    June 21. Though winds were light last night and are brisk today, we’re having trouble relocating our island .
June 22. Couldn’t find her. Lowered all sails last night—no wind thru today. Reading. Took sights .
June 23. Fair trade winds. Hoisted all sails and went in pursuit of our island. Re-LAND HO at 12:30, giving us plenty of time to gain anchorage. For entry, we’re hoping for a SE wind. We are off SW shore. Saw a light on island at night. Possibly another boat?
     
    Jennifer, out of kindness or prudence, did not mention the obvious: if Buck had done his job, they would already be ashore. And he didn’t bring it up, even to apologize, but the unacknowledged tension built.
    June 24. So nice to wake up and have the island right there in front of us .
     
    Nice, but infuriating. Palmyra lay before them, close enough to swim to, yet the necessary wind did not rise off the bow. Suppose a southeast wind blew only rarely in this region? What would they do in that case? The current was no help; it always flowed out of the channel to the ocean rather than inward.
    June 25. Another day of reading. Strong NE