147 I learn of flamingos and hurricanes 



rock jutting out here and there, but mostly it was a leaping, ragged 

 wall of white water, churning and surging and breaking itself 

 furiously against the hard barrier of dead and living coral. McPhee 

 altered our course now, bringing the wind full astern. We raced 

 up the slope of long rollers, poised, balanced on the crests, and 

 then, as they broke, we held on for dear life, while the clutching 

 sea swirled around our feet and legs before rushing angrily over- 

 board. We were heading now for a narrow break in the reef just 

 to the south of Green Cay, a channel that Herby claimed to 

 know "like the pa'm of my hanY' As we swept headlong and 

 irretrievably toward it, McPhee questioned the degree of Herby's 

 knowledge regarding the exact lay of the channel, and the latter 

 began a long recital of the endless number of vessels he had 

 conned through this particular opening. McPhee interrupted to 

 remind him of his own uncle, "bes' seaman on Andros," who had 

 lost his two-masted schooner, his crew, and his life trying to cross 

 through this same reef just above Green Cay, and Herby abruptly 

 stopped talking and took over the business of directing the course. 



Small flocks of sooty terns now joined us, swooping and flut- 

 tering all about us, their voices more cheerful than they had 

 sounded on the open Tongue some hours before. The reef was 

 now just ahead of our lifting bows, and for the life of me I could 

 see no sign of a channel. Alongside the mast, Herby was waving 

 his long, loose-limbed arms this way and that, starboard a little, 

 now port, now starboard again, his eyes, under half-closed lids, 

 searching the foam, the wide sheets of dashing spray, and the 

 turmoil of seething waters for the outlines of the opening. In 

 another moment the sloop was in the very middle of this jarring 

 turbulence and I waited to hear the crunch and splinter of our 

 thin hull. But Herby had picked the right spot and before we 

 could get our breath we were through, and racing into the shallow 

 waters beyond. 



McPhee jibed her and in another instant the Alert was trem- 

 bling in the shelter of Green Cay. Down came the mainsail, and 

 Herby was clearing the anchor line. Soon we were riding serenely 

 on our anchor, and boiling water for tea, with strong coffee for 

 Herby. By two o'clock both boys were laid out on their bunk, 



