took us to dinner at the Hotel de Roi Christophe, one of 

 the historic places of the town, a walk of only a few blocks 

 from the harbor. We had downed some luscious crawfish 

 Thermidor and were attacking a delicious beef filet, when 

 M. Beck arrived to tell us that Prefect Sam had changed 

 his mind. The governor did not want to assume the re- 

 sponsibility of letting us search without sanction from 

 Port-au-Prince. 



Our spirits hit bottom once more. Ed said quietly, but 

 with grim finahty in his tone, "If we can't get permission 

 tonight so that we can go out tomorrow morning, I'm 

 through." And we knew he meant it. 



Captain Weems volunteered to make one last attempt 

 to locate Colonel Chassagne, who had been unreachable 

 all day. He and M. Beck departed, the steak dinner for- 

 gotten. Ed, Bill, Clayton and I disconsolately ate our des- 

 sert, drank our small cups of black Haitian coffee and 

 started back to Sea Diver. 



But our bad luck had only begun. As we headed across 

 the harbor toward Sea Diver, a strong wind caught Reef 

 Diver and carried us into the shallow water close to the 

 sea wall. In full skirts and high heels for the first time 

 since my arrival, I was standing on the engine box when 

 the cruiser came to a violent stop, and I was catapulted 

 unexpectedly to the deck between the cabin and the en- 

 gine box. In the darkness we had struck the arm of an old 

 anchor which lay on the bottom and had punctmred a hole 

 in our starboard bow. Fortunately the damage was above 

 the waterline and could be easily repaired. 



I did not fare so well, however, for as I picked myself 

 up, I was aware of a very painful area liigh in my right side, 

 where I had struck against the dashboard, and there was 

 a sickish feeling in the pit of my stomach. I could hardly 

 wait to get aboard Sea Diver and head for my bunk. 



It was nearly midnight before Captain Weems re- 



Search for the Santa Maria 189 



