ter, not only from pirates, but more often from unex- 

 pected storms and hurricanes which had carried them 

 into the reef-strewn waters along the Florida keys. 



We had become increasingly aware of the hazards 

 which these early mariners faced, as we sailed our forty- 

 three-foot yawl. Blue Heron, up and down the Florida 

 coasts, weaving in and out of the narrow passages which 

 cut through the Florida keys, and navigating carefully 

 about these same dangerous reefs which lay barely con- 

 cealed several miles from shore, just at the edge of the 

 Gulf Stream. And all along the coast of Cuba and in the 

 lovely httle harbors which we had found wherever we 

 went in the Bahamas, we were reminded of the sailors 

 who had preceded us, when there were no lighthouses or 

 navigation markers, no accurate charts to indicate dan- 

 gerous waters, and no auxiliary motors to help the awk- 

 ward, square-rigged sails keep a ship out of trouble. 



But little did we realize that spring of 1951, when we 

 tied up at Bill Thompson's yacht basin at Marathon, 

 where the Florida keys make a big swing toward the west, 

 that we ourselves were about to become engaged in 

 the most fascinating series of adventures we had ever 

 dreamed of. 



We had tied up at Bill's many times during our travels 

 back and forth from the west coast of Florida to the east. 

 This time we intended to stop over there before setting 

 out on a cruise to the Bahama islands, to the east. We 

 were accompanied by our two sons, William, age 13, and 

 Clayton, age 9, who were spending their Easter vacation 

 with us. 



Bill Thompson, pioneer owner of one of the earliest 

 yacht basins to be established between Miami and Key 

 West, met us at the dock with a hearty welcome. 



We greeted him. "What's new?" 



4 Sea Diver 



