“I’ll go take a look,” I said, and did so. While I was forward, adjusting the sail, Nick called Ted to the next watch and went below. I fought down my rising irritation and tried to understand, to put myself in Nick’s place. The incident was trivial, and yet it was one of those things that could be significant. True, there had been no emergency and one man could easily do the job. Nick was tired and looking forward to going off watch. On the other hand, why the silence which seemed rude or sullen at the very least? What was the answer? I didn’t know.
The only conclusion to be drawn was that, at this stage, subtleties, suggestions, and hints were out of place. If I wanted a job done I must give a simple direct order even if it made me a Captain with a capital C, rather than a yachting companion. So far as the work of the boat was concerned, nothing must be left unclear. On the other hand, I couldn’t look to Nick or the others for the kind of companionable discussion of pros and cons of procedure that I was sharing more and more with Ted. The Japanese seemed to prefer clear-cut orders and to look upon preliminary discussions as an indication of inefficiency on the part of their skipper. This placed an additional burden on me!
On the sixth day, just after noon, we sighted land off the port bow. Simultaneously, with a noise like an explosion, the main after chain plate on the port side parted. Immediately I put the boat about to take the strain off the port shrouds. Everything else held.
When we inspected the damage, it was easy enough to see what had happened. It was a matter of poor design—my design—in having made the neck too narrow. This was a serious matter and meant that all the chain plates would have to be replaced at the first opportunity. In the meantime, we jury-rigged the shroud, reduced sail enough to ease the strain, and worked our way gradually toward Rarotonga. By the middle of the next afternoon we were off the entrance to Avarua, port of entry for the Cook Islands.
The channel was easy enough to spot. It lay between the wrecks of two ships that had missed the entrance and ended their trips, one on each horn of the encroaching reef. The pass was narrow and the harbor beyond obviously too small to maneuver in. Feeling less than happy about the situation, we dropped the sails, and I started the engine, prepared to go in cautiously under power.
At this moment a small tug came out and offered to take us in for 30 shillings (about $4). Never was a deal closed more swiftly. The captain gave us a shouted rundown of the procedure: “Get lines ready at each quarter—pass them to the native divers as soon as you get in.... As soon as you’re inside, drop your anchor at once and put the tiller hard over ...” etc. I, in turn, repeated the orders to my crew in slow and careful English, and assigned each man his position and function. Only then, and under tow, did we tackle the entrance. It was a narrow squeeze, but after much shouting and more sweating, we were finally fixed in place like a fly in a spiderweb, with two anchors forward, two lines aft to the dock, four set out to rings in the underwater coral, and a final line secured to an interisland trawler, Inspire, which lay to the tiny dock and threatened to overturn from the sheer weight of the crowd that had rushed aboard her for a grandstand view of the proceedings.
We were not left long in doubt about the hospitality of the Cook Islands. Ten minutes after we were secure, a note was handed to me:
Dr. Earle Reynolds and Mrs. Reynolds:
Welcome to Rarotonga and the Cook Group. I hope you will call at the Administration Building sometime at your convenience and please let me know if there is anything we can do for you.
Yours sincerely,