The soft breeze ruffled his hair as he padded barefoot on the wooden deck. His feet now accustomed to the heat generated by the radiant sun in the tropical climate he found himself in. The small schooner dipped at anchor in the blue waters as he awaited the return of Bartlett, Johnson and the hand who had gone ashore in the skiff to trade goods with the natives in exchange for copra.
"Hope them's back soon; don't like a look o' that shite yonder." Said Bundy the first mate, pointing to a dark and menacing sky in the distance which was fast encroaching upon the bright blue within the sunlight above. The captain, Nathanial Gray, who made up the total six man crew, toked on his pipe as he too eyed the approaching storm from the binnacle he sat on.
"Yes, we'd best be away from this reef when that blows in; I baint in any mind to spend the next six month or so on that flea bitten island." The two older men made him shiver a little with their talk, despite the tropical heat and the increasing humidity that the fast approaching squall was creating. He was eased somewhat as he saw the white bow-wave in the distance as the skiff was hastily rowed back, aided by its small sail which was catching the breeze.
Bartlett, Johnson and the Hand, Jonah Travis, hurriedly thrust the sacks of copra from the skiff as they eyed the blackening sky about them. They clambered aboard and the sails of 'Carolina May' were unfurled as Travis walked the skiff round to the stern and made her fast. The brown and white sails billowed and went taught as the increasing breeze was captured by them making the wooden vessel creak as it lurched into almost instantaneous motion. The once calm sea was becoming increasingly choppy as the small schooner picked up a pace and moved further away from the reef to the comparative safety of the open ocean. Frigate birds wheeled eerily above them in front of the storm like huge black bats.
For an hour or so the schooner made good progress, keeping just ahead of the storm which seemed to hold back and be content to blow them in a southerly direction, the twin masts almost bending with the constant wind which inflated the sails; the bow of the graceful boat buffeting through the growing swell. The men slid about in the spray as the sky above them darkened, and the wind and waves grew stronger. To add to their misery, the heavens opened, and thunder and lightning deafened and blinded them as they fought with the rigging and steering.
It was about two hours from the time when they had left the atoll when it happened; there was a huge crack and the schooner suddenly slewed sideways; the steering had gone! Bundy was thrown over the side and disappeared into the maelstrom; the ship went broadside against the waves. The others froze as a mountainous wall of water loomed over them. The next thing he knew he was twisting and turning like a rag doll underwater; objects hit his arms, legs and head as he swirled in the salty turbulence, something rammed his chest and he grabbed it instinctively. His heart was fit to burst as he broke the surface once more and spewed the water from his throat and lungs. There was nothing but ocean. The only thing from the 'Carolina May' that remained was the split section of bowsprit boom which was keeping him afloat and a thousand heads of copra bobbing like apples in a barrel.
He clung to the wooden remnant for dear life, as he rose and fell in the enormous troughs.
He fought to stay conscious for the next hour or so, and as he rose high on one wave, a flash of lightning illuminated an island not far off. If only he could make it there.
It must have been another two hours before the storm passed, and he was drifting in and out of consciousness under the returning hot sun when the sound of breakers crashing alerted his numbed senses. He strained to lift his head as far above the still turbulent sea as he could and saw the white foam about three hundred yards off, and beyond that a small island with tall rocky outcrops, the shoreline festooned with palms, about another five hundred yards beyond the foam. If he could traverse the reef safely he would reach the island; an island he would have viewed with some hostility and trepidation just the day before, but one which looked very inviting to him now.
He hauled his entire body up upon the length of wood which had been his saviour. Some rigging, a portion of sail and attached wooden debris, did just enough to act as an impromptu outrigger; stopping the main body which supported him from rolling. He braced himself as the crashing grew louder; each surge of the tide rushed him ever closer to the possibility of being shredded on the sharp coral reef, or the luxury of the soft beach which lay somewhere beyond it.
The initial wave carrying him to his uncertain destiny dropped his makeshift vessel short and he was thrust forward agonisingly as the mast end shunted the wall of coral. He gripped the wood as best he could, avoiding the temptation to wrap his arms underneath it. Thankfully, the next swell consisted of a much larger volume of water, and he was that much closer; it picked him up and he surged through the crashing foam and spray. As the wave flattened out in its dispersal he felt the vibration as the mast bottomed out occasionally on spikes of coral; then the next wave overtook him and upended him – he was flung forward headlong and curled himself into a ball awaiting the impact against the sharp and menacing reef. He hung suspended in the water and slowly opened his eyes; the foam swirled above him and the crashing rang in his ears, but he just lolled back and forth in near still water – he had cleared the reef.
