Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
a sigh of relief. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I had to repair the engine before
we could leave this island, but I would worry about that later.
The Lagoon was large, calm, and green. Lazy palms leaned out in all directions, kissing the
water or reaching for the skies with hypnotic waving fronds. There was a tranquility here
that was such a welcome contrast from the sea. I felt my body relax. We were both very
tired and edgy and sank silently down on the cockpit seats, looking about us. My head was
spinning from several days of exhaustion and sleepless nights. The sun had almost set, yet
there was a golden green glow around the lagoon. It was quiet and still, so still. The water
was like a mirror reflecting the tiniest detail. Nesting boobies were quarreling and fidgeting
over their night's roost, but we hardly heard them.
Over to where the dinghies were on shore was a little, wooden, green house, at the very
edge of the water. Plainly visible on the wall someone had written “Palmyra Yacht Club.'
There was an old red and white life ring attached to the wall and a line of decorative, gay
red rope nailed along the sides. Farther away on the shore were the remains of an old jetty;
now just a few rusty poles pierced the calm, green water, a statuesque booby admired its
reflection from the top of one.
There were only two other boats in the lagoon apart from Neptune's Chariot and ourselves.
The one yacht was a large American production boat commonly found off the southern
shores of California. Southern Star appeared to be deserted, and a red inflatable dinghy
nudged up against some other hard-shell dinghy on shore. We turned our attention to the
other yacht. She was a classic, old, wooden schooner flying a Swiss flag. She had wonder-
ful lines, clipper bow, reverse transom, square dog house, and galvanized rigging complete
with lanyards and dead eyes. She was well maintained and cut a clean wholesome picture
as she tugged gently on her anchor lines. If I had the choice, I would not have painted her
red, but she still was a handsome craft.
The evening calm was shattered by the radio-telephone, “Déjà vu Déjà vu, come in please.
This is Neptune's Chariot, come in please, over.”
I went below, “Hi Neptune's Chariot, channel nine?” I asked, following radio protocol, and
leaving the ship-to-ship channel sixteen clear for other traffic. “Roger that, going down.”
“Déjà vu, this is Mike. I came out to tow you in. Is everything OK now?”
“You bet Mike, we really want to thank you guys for saving the day; thank God you were
here and were monitoring your radio, I'm Jonathan, and my twin brother's name is Gavin.”
“Not a problem, Jonathan. I'm glad we were able to assist. Invitation from Harry the owner
requests both your company for dinner tonight?”
