The lookout caught the flash of the Weilangilali Light at three o'clock in the morning of the 24th, and by daylight we were well down the Naniku Passage into the Fijis. The wind was light but steady, and the scores of small, low islands to windward, cutting the swell almost completely off, made splendid sailing. The flat horizon, unbroken save by the blur of an occasional island, was a welcome relief from the wave-crumpled skyline we had left behind in the open sea. The Fijian Archipelago is a veritable nest of reefs, large and small, and islands, both coral and volcanic, of every degree of magnitude. We picked up island after island during the day, and at night they still continued to push up ahead, grey banks of enchantment in the silver sea of the moonlight.
Two of the curious rocks that we passed in the course of the day, on account of their peculiar and distinctive outlines, are down on the chart as Hat and Cap Island, respectively. This circumstance was responsible for the following laconic entry in the frivolous "Ladies' Log":
"June 24th.—Passing Hat and Cap Islands caused quite a flutter in the bonnet of the forestay-sail."
The 180th meridian was passed early in the afternoon of the 24th, upon which that day became immediately Saturday, the 25th. This made the next day Sunday, which fact poor Clark, the cook, learned so tardily that it was by only the maddest of efforts that the indispensable "duff" was prepared in time for dinner.
The Trade-wind gave way to the cool land breeze from the big island of Viti Levu in the early morning of the 26th. This, fresh with a welcome earthy smell, coaxed the yacht gingerly along for several hours, only to die out toward noon and leave her becalmed fifteen miles off Suva entrance.
With every foot of sail spread to take advantage of the vagrant puffs of wind that were coming occasionally from the north, the yacht had shouldered along with the swells to within ten miles of the harbour, when the pilot, coming off in answer to our signal, boarded us to say that we might as well lower our sails and prepare to spend the night where we were. Promising, in case the wind was blowing, to come off in the morning and take us in, he bade us an officious good-bye, clambered down into his boat and set his crew of convict rowers pulling back to the land. Five minutes later the breeze freshened and the yacht, slipping swiftly through the smooth water, passed the pilot's boat and left it half a mile astern before we luffed up and waited for that thoroughly discomfited functionary to come alongside and climb aboard. An hour and a half later we had threaded the tortuous, buoy-marked passage through the reef and come to anchor a cable's length off the end of Suva pier.
[CHAPTER XVII]
IN SUVA AND MBAU