84 



would certainly put his territory *on the map'. Had he got the 

 formalin? Not yet, but it was promised and he expected it any 

 time. She wished him luck, and started to leave when he said, 

 *If I do get a Coelacanth and haven't any formalin, what do I do ?' 

 She said he should not even think of such an awful possibility, 

 but he said (doubtless knowing East Africa better than she did), 

 *Yes, but just suppose there isn't any, tell me what I could do ? 

 There is no refrigeration at the Comores.' So she replied, 'Well, 

 heaven forbid it should happen, but the only way would be to use 

 salt. Like those smelly sharks.' And he replied, 'O.K., thanks. 

 Anyway, when I get a Coelacanth, I'll send you a cable.' And they 

 both laughed with amusement. So did some imp of fate also 

 laugh, for only ten days later all those things happened: a Coe- 

 lacanth, no formalin, salt, and the cable. 



My wife's encounter with Hunt brought him and the Comores 

 to the forefront of our minds, and they were like a hovering 

 cloud in our consciousness, receding only slowly as we left them 

 far behind. We often spoke of both Hunt and the Comores, but 

 during the short voyages from port to port, we were hard at 

 work all the time describing and figuring our rarities. Not only 

 this, but that whole voyage south was as usual strenuous, for every 

 port brought interviews and visitors, both officials, friends, and 

 press. Captain Patrick Smythe gave us every assistance and con- 

 sideration, excusing even our reluctance to sit at his table on the 

 ground that we were too exhausted to be polite to strangers, and 

 it was on that account arranged for us to have a table to ourselves. 



Before dawn on the 24th December 1952, my wife and I 

 were up on the bridge to gaze on the lights of Durban that lay 

 shimmering in the haze that hid the land. It was a real thrill to 

 see our own country again. Most of the pilots up the east coast 

 are old friends, but it was especially nice now to meet one of our 

 own. We were leaning over the rail beside the searchlight on the 

 bridge as we slid through the harbour mouth, scanning the anglers 

 who as usual lined the piers. I drew a deep breath of contentment 

 and said, 'It's wonderful to be back again. It will be a long time 

 before an)rthing gets me back to the tropics again.' That same 

 imp of fate must have laughed again, and even more loudly, 

 for within six hours I was frantic to be able to do just that, and 

 quickly. 



