NARRATIVE OF THE CRUISE 185 



her anchorage and was headed toward the rocks to the south of 

 Hangaroa — our bronze anchor was gone in sixteen fathoms. 

 Fortunately for us the engine responded promptly in the emer- 

 gency, and, with the help of a light breeze, we were clear of danger. 

 It was a very close call. We were not to leave this inhospitable 

 anchorage without paying our forfeit. So fouled with coral heads 

 is the ground of the bay that almost every ship loses an anchor. 



This incident shows some of the difficulties of operating a 

 sailing-vessel with non-magnetic features like manila hawsers 

 instead of iron chains. The hemp had been worn through by 

 the constant chafing on the sharp coral. When the second anchor 

 failed to hold, there was nothing to do but put to sea at once, 

 thus cutting short what was promising to be the most interesting 

 call of the voyage. Only by the exercise of constant vigilance 

 was the Island deprived of one more shipwreck. 



While the Carnegie stood off and on under fore-and-aft sails 

 and engine-power, the doctor was sent in the dinghy with a radio 

 message for Mr. Edmunds, assuring him that a steam-vessel, the 

 Anartico, was due to leave Valparaiso about December 20th. 

 The reply had been delayed several days by the wretched radio 

 conditions in the neighborhood. Scott went ashore to arrange 

 for the immediate slaughtering of some animals for our larders. 

 And Soule went to mail some letters. Believe it or not! 



There were a few postage-stamp enthusiasts on board. Letters 

 are so rarely mailed here that the members of the staff usually 

 send home some mail in the hopes that the envelopes will carry 

 the surcharge "Rapa Nui." None of the letters mailed on Cruise 

 IV reached the United States, so there was less enthusiasm this 

 time. However, Soule delivered some mail to Mr. Edmunds for 

 forwarding by the next boat. He succeeded in getting it through 

 to the States, but found no special stamp or surcharge. The 

 envelope had been inscribed by the hand of a postmaster "Isla 

 de Pascua," and carried the usual Chilean stamp. 



By mid-afternoon the dinghy was piled high with beef, mutton, 

 chickens, and bananas; and we waved good-bye. We will never 

 forget the kindness of Mr. Edmunds, and of the new friends we 

 made on this lonely island. 



