Despite Father’s fears we reached the island of Ruratu, discharged the coal there, picked up a load of sandalwood and cat’s eyes for a deck load after we had collected nine hundred tons of copra and sailed for Adelaide, South Australia, our destination.
The mate, cocky about the ship-shape condition of the vessel under his supervision, reminded Father of his groundless fears on the out trip.
“But we ain’t in home port yet,” Father persisted.
So he kept up his vigil. After seventy-one days we were due to sight land if Father’s navigation was correct. Sailors were stationed at the masthead and on the bow as lookouts.
“Land off the starboard bow, ho!” wailed Swede from his post at the foremast crosstrees.
“Where away?” returned Father.
“Quarter point off the bow, sir!”
Sighting land after seventy-one weary days at sea was a great relief to Father. He hurried below, after giving a direction to the man at the wheel, and brought up his binoculars. He gazed steadily through them as if he were trying to bring the land closer through the glasses.
“That’s it! Take a look, Joan.”
Through the glasses I saw a little cone-shaped shadow on the horizon. Land!