140 On the trail of vanishing birds 



McPhee, at the tiller, showed no premonition of the danger that 

 lay ahead, and Herby, dreaming of the rum he would be able to 

 buy next day, was in a pleasant torpor his version of the home- 

 ward-bound fever. Both are good sailors, as good as any in the 

 Bahamas, and it seems certain that they had no suspicion of 

 trouble. 



At Middle Bight Cay we crossed into the Tongue of the Ocean, 

 dipping easily from the green and brown shallows behind the reef 

 into the dark, intense blue waters that drop off precipitously to 

 depths of as much as 1,000 fathoms. It was then that Herby 

 roused himself long enough to predict that, if the breeze held, 

 we would make the bank below Southwest Reef, to the south 

 of New Providence, by nine o'clock that same night. 



It was about three that afternoon when we heard the first 

 thunder, off in the west. We could see some angry-looking clouds 

 building up, but they seemed safely far off, and they appeared to 

 be moving along the length of Andros, offering no threat to our 

 passage across the Tongue. After a little we could see a couple 

 of heavy squalls breaking over the island beyond and behind us. 

 Our lazy thoughts scarcely troubled to estimate which settlements, 

 on the coast we were leaving, might now be getting a drenching. 

 We were completely unconcerned. Within an hour all this had 

 changed. The southeast breeze increased until we were skimming 

 along like a racing yacht. Then it lulled momentarily and set in 

 from the northwest. Within minutes a squall appeared, bearing 

 down on us suddenly from the north. As it struck, in great drops 

 that slapped hard against bare skin, Herby let go the jib and, with 

 the same movement, lowered the big weather-stained mainsail to 

 the deck. We sat shivering in the sudden chill, grinning foolishly 

 at our goose flesh and wet through. However, it was still nothing 

 but a rain squall, and we were far from worried. 



The first squall was followed by another, and this one, more 

 severe than the first, either lasted longer or was overhauled by a 

 third and a fourth in such rapid succession that their beginnings 

 and endings were indistinguishable. The wind picked up steadily 

 as the day wore on, and it was nearly dark before a lull occurred. 

 The sky was low and leaden, and angry clouds, heavy and sullen 



