6o I N A G U A 



Off on the reef lay all that was left of the Basilisk. We had 

 stripped her of her canvas, of the running rigging and of 

 everything that would come loose. Meanwhile the surf had 

 ground a great hole in her side and she was badly splintered. 

 Most amazing was the distance which some of the wreckage 

 had floated. Bits of paper, splintered pieces of wood, tins of 

 one sort or another were strewn up and down the beach for 

 ten miles in either direction. We gathered in everything that 

 was worthwhile and piled it with the other material at the 

 Lagoon Christophe. 



We then loaded the wreckage in the two ramshackle boats, 

 piling the tins in the bottom and the more fragile material on 

 top. The ship's papers and sextant I wrapped carefully in a 

 canvas and placed under a deck beam. When we were through, 

 the gunwales were only a few inches above water and we 

 began to doubt if we could progress as far as the houses without 

 swamping. 



We set sail early the next morning shortly after the sun had 

 risen. I was sorry to leave the spot and with Coleman climbed 

 the bluff to take a last look at the wreck. For me it was an ex- 

 tremely bitter moment and I think Coleman felt likewise. In 

 the months that had passed we had become very attached to 

 our tiny ship. We had gone through the worst kind of misery 

 on her decks, we had spent sleepless sodden days in her cabin 

 but she was our ship and the parting came hard. Through the 

 dismal murk of a November fog she had carried us; through 

 the awful battering of a mid-winter storm she had fought with 

 us against the sea and we were loath to leave her lying broken 

 on the reef. But there was no way out of it and in the end we 

 quietly turned and made our way down to the lagoon. Even 

 the blacks felt our mood and made no remark as we cHmbed 

 into their boats. 



On the wings of a billowing trade we swept out of the 



