his binoculars. There was not a sign of land anywhere. We 

 headed back toward our anchorage ofiF Cockburntown, 

 convinced that if Watling island was Columbus's San 

 Salvador, he would perforce have landed on its western 

 shore. 



Early next morning we set out once more to explore 

 the reef harbor and the point of land which formed its 

 eastern border. We had hoped to enter one of the pas- 

 sages between the reefs with Sea Diver and anchor her in 

 the harbor, but after taking soundings of the approaches 

 to these openings from the skiff, we decided it would be 

 safer to leave her in the open water leeward of Green 

 cay. 



A strong wind similar to that of the previous day was 

 kicking up a choppy sea inside the harbor, but we did 

 not realize until after we had set out in Wee Diver to 

 cross the three miles of water between us and the distant 

 point, that it might actually be dangerous to attempt this 

 journey in a small boat. 



There were four of us in the skiff — Captain Weems, 

 Pete, Ed and myself — and with our combined weight 

 there was very little freeboard. I sat with Ed on the stem 

 seat while he ran the outboard. The other two sat side by 

 side amidships, busily occupied in bailing the quantities 

 of water which slopped over the bow as Wee Diver caught 

 the tops of the bigger seas. We were soon soaked to the 

 skin from the salt spray which continually drenched us. 



We were making scarcely any headway, with wind 

 and sea and tide against us, and Ed would have turned 

 back, I'm sure, had he not feared we would be swamped 

 if we were caught in the trough of the waves. Instead he 

 eased Wee Diver gradually toward shore so that we met 

 the seas on our port bow rather than heading directly 

 into them. Ashore, clouds of white coral dust rose toward 

 the sky as two huge bulldozers dug into the rocky soil. 



On the Track of Columbus 321 



