Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
a bit. There were a couple of old ceramic fuses still in place, even an old manufacturer's
cardboard spool with fuse wire wrapped around it. Something I then saw made me yell out.
The dog started up from the floor. There on the side of the fuse box door was a spring used
to keep the door closed under tension. I went to my bag and took out a screwdriver which
I used to lever open the door. The spring had a lot of tension in it still and amazingly it
looked like the same diameter as the valve one on the engine. I took some pliers from the
bag and finally broke off the spring from the box. I raced back to the boat, brandishing the
spring at Gavin, who was smoking in the cockpit. “Where did you find that old relic?” he
asked, sipping from his tea mug.
I briefly told him of the abandoned workshop I had found, while lifting the cockpit sole.
Retrieving the broken spring, I held it next to the rusty fuse box spring and found it to be
the same diameter as the engine spring.
“Well I'll be damned!” I chortled gleefully, “The power of prayer!” It is terrible to have to
admit this, but I don't really believe in God until I need him, or when my life is threatened.
I think, or I hope, that I am not the only poor sod who lives in such constant agonizing con-
fusion. Wouldn't it be great if we all knew there was a God? How simple would our lives
be? You do this; you'll get that. Instead, there abounds confusion and grey areas, leaps of
faith and leaps of suicide over something or someone or some force that won't show him-
self. And until he does answer a prayer we doubt his existence, believing rather in the far
more reliable idea of coincidence.
I soon had a portable vice set up in the cockpit and, with a hacksaw, cut off a piece of the
spring, the same length as the broken one. It was tough going. Spring steel is extremely
hard and my hacksaw blade virtually bounced off it. But I was determined, and after about
an hour of sweaty work I finally had a cut in the spring deep enough to twist off. I sanded
off the rust and fitted it over the valve after decoking both the intake and exhaust valves.
I painstakingly put everything back together, scraping my knuckles on the spiteful, old en-
gine. I had Gavin stand by in the cockpit at the controls while I went below and hand-
cranked the old wheezer. After a few mighty turns the old bitch caught, and the familiar
sound of the diesel sprang to life! That was one of my proudest moments on the trip. I let
her putter for a while, making sure she kept running, and turned it off. I started her again,
just to make sure, and she fired up first crank, as she was now nicely warmed up. I was
delighted; I felt I could now really relax and enjoy the island without that dark cloud over-
head.
A couple of days later, an even more unusual incident took place. I had been jogging on
the beach, doing my six miles with rocks in my hands. I was very fit and wanted to keep in
shape. Never before in my life, except perhaps in the army, was I so fit and in shape. It felt
great, and the ladies in my life liked it! I liked it too; it made me feel confident.
