The Japanese maritime agencies were very kind to us all the way down. Obviously we were expected wherever we went, the word being passed along in advance. We rounded Shionomisaki, the “Cape Horn” of Honshu, on July 11, without incident, and headed northward toward the Inland Sea.

This time, however, we did not tackle Naruto Straits, but sailed on past Kobe and Osaka, then westward to Takamatsu.

At Awaji-shima, we paused for a day or so in the tiny fishing harbor of Sumoto, while I took a flying trip (courtesy Japan Air Lines) back to Tokyo, to participate in a very popular nationally televised show, called “I Know a Secret.” I was the Secret of the Week—for about thirty seconds. The expert panel guessed my identity without asking a question, so we spent the rest of the time chatting about our trip around the world, using big maps which had been prepared at the studio in advance. Then back to Sumoto and on into the Inland Sea.

In Takamatsu, where we of course had many friends, we were given a berth at the Coast Guard docks. The yacht club gave us a fine party, at which we were presented with a lovely plaque. Also, as we had promised long before, we paid a return visit to Kompira-san. Following the custom, we took along tangible evidence of the dangers of the sea from which we had escaped, and added our old broken bowsprit—suitably decorated and identified—to the temple museum.

At this time we were approached by the Committee of Welcome from Hiroshima, who asked us to give them the date and time of our arrival in Hiroshima. I was a bit nonplused at first and then thought that, if the Johnsons in Yankee could set up a schedule of this nature, so could I. I told them we would be in Hiroshima between 1400 and 1500 on the afternoon of July 30. Now all we had to do was get there on time.

After five days in Takamatsu we sailed through Naka Passage, of Kurushima Straits, hitting it (by design) just as the tide turned fair. At any other time we wouldn’t be able to get through. Now we were back in familiar waters, and our last two anchorages—Kurohama and Eta-uchi—were old friends.

All in all, it was a rather enjoyable trip down, but I had my fingers crossed, especially after committing ourselves as to an arrival date. I tried not to let down my guard, lest some yacht-hating demon deal me a nasty blow—and one almost did. Almost the last entry in the log says:

1122 Petrolene, Monrovia, a big oil tanker, changed course abruptly to SB at No. 1 Buoy, cut across the ship channel, and almost ran us down. Had to change course 90° to avoid collision. Vented my spleen by blowing my horn vigorously—which was answered by happy waving from up above, on the bridge.

On the morning of June 30, 1960, after a night in our old typhoon refuge of Eta-uchi, we set out for Hiroshima, giving ourselves plenty of time. Within an hour the first snipe from the Hiroshima Yacht Club had reached us and soon we were the middle of a flotilla. At exactly 1425 we tied up at our old dock in Ujina, the port of Hiroshima. The UPI reported:

HIROSHIMA WELCOMES REYNOLDS