In any event, the sound of our keel crunching on coral in that desolate section of the Great Barrier Reef is a sound none of us ever wishes to hear again!
More than ever I became convinced that in every successful round-the-world cruise a certain amount of luck—or, at least, the absence of bad luck at a critical moment—must play a part. Pidgeon, who twice sailed around the world singlehanded, went ashore while asleep, just after sailing from Cape Town. He landed on a small, sandy beach, the only such on a rocky coast that extended for scores of miles. Moreover, he had miraculously gone over a rocky ledge, passable only at high tide, in order to have landed there! Slocum himself, in addition to his brush with Moody Reef, went ashore on the coast of South America, but was fortunate enough to escape without damage to the Spray. Every voyager, I am sure, can recall some incident which could have meant the end of his trip had not good fortune—or Providence—intervened.
So intrigued did I become with these speculations that, during a stay in Cape Town, I gave a talk on the subject, calling it “The Fifth Ingredient”—the other four being a well-found ship; a good crew; adequate preparation and maintenance; and seamanship. Regardless of the other four essentials, it is my contention that a generous portion of this fifth ingredient is essential if success is to be achieved.
During the afternoon of June 17 we knew we were truly in the neck of the funnel. From deck level we could see the discolored water of the fringing reef closing in, mile by mile, as we sailed northward. Occasional blackish coral heads of the white mounds of sand shoals humped above the surface at low tide, only to disappear treacherously as the tide rose. Low-lying reef islands broke the surface of the waters ahead as the channel grew progressively narrower. We knew there was a passage, but it was easy to understand how early voyagers, with square-rigged ships that were unable to beat back against the wind, must have trembled when they reached this spot!
The final approach to Thursday Island was a harrowing finale to a sleepless night, during which we had to pick our way from beacon to beacon. Our entry into Ellis Channel was complicated by brisk winds, a heavy tide, and a sharp rain squall which hit just as we started through and forced us to turn and head out again until it had passed. No one was in sight when we finally entered the harbor and drifted down on the Thursday Island dock, so we continued past and dropped anchor in three fathoms just beyond the wharf in the midst of a fleet of pearling luggers, sailing ships like ourselves.
Only then, as Jessica filled another red line on the map of our trip, did I dare to relax and draw a deep breath of relief. Another phase of our apprenticeship had been successfully completed: the passage of the treacherous and awe-inspiring Great Barrier Reef.
9 INTO INDONESIA:
THURSDAY ISLAND TO BALI
“Our life at sea was teaching us....”
The importance of T.I., as it is called, is out of all proportion to its size and population, for it is the focal point for the thinly settled Cape York peninsula and for the many islands of Torres Strait. Its principal products are pearl shell, crocodile skin, and tall talk. Among other tale spinners we met a team of two young men who had made a tidy stake out in the bush, shooting crocs. They had started their venture with only a gun and a flashlight apiece, their method being to stand in a stream, with water up to their armpits, and shine their lights until they attracted a customer. The technique seemed to be to shoot the croc between the eyes before it got close enough to grab one of them, but not so soon that the valuable carcass would be swept away by the swift current before they could get to it.
After they had spent a season in this way and collected enough skins the enterprising hunters took their trophies to town and invested the proceeds in a boat. As one said, the hunting was drier that way.