39° 



The National Geographic Magazine 



cult harbor entrances or fighting against 

 the treacherous tides of the Bahama 

 Banks. 



The voyage across the Gulf Stream to 

 Nassau and the first day's run south from 

 that port was interesting but uneventful. 

 On the second day, April i, 1907, con- 

 ditions changed, when a heavy head wind 

 was encountered from the south, dis- 

 placing the customary easterly trade 

 winds. For hours the yacht tacked back 

 and forth in a futile contest with wind 

 and waves, for going to windward was 

 not the Physalias strong point. At 4 p. m. 

 the anchor was dropped on the north 

 side of a narrow reef lying east and west, 

 which promised fair shelter for the ap- 

 proaching night ; but at this very moment 

 the destructive hurricane of April 1 had 

 just struck Nassau, fifty miles to the 

 north, and was tearing its way against 

 the southern gale, which we were con- 

 tentedly watching as it sent the spray 

 high over the reef in front of us. 



The barometer, however, had begun to 

 fall and, not liking the looks of the 

 weather, with ominous thunder clouds 

 gathering, another anchor was dropped 

 overboard, only to find ourselves strug- 

 gling at the windlass half an hour later 

 to pull them back again, as the hurricane 

 came from the north while the tumul- 

 tuous waves threatened to pull the bow 

 under, held as it was with double chains, 

 or later drive us back upon the reef when 

 anchor free. 



As the second anchor came aboard, the 

 yacht responded quickly to the wind, and 

 in passing out struck a sunken bar of 

 sand or silt, hanging just long enough for 

 a huge wave to sweep the decks and flood 

 the engine-room, stopping the motor, 

 upon which we were relying until a small 

 sail could be reefed. The next wave 

 carried us clear, and in a few minutes 

 the engine was again running, and then 

 began a struggle to clear some long, low 

 islands ahead which could be dimly seen 

 in the gathering darkness. This required 

 us to run at right angles to the gale, in 

 the trough of the sea, and then it was that 

 the huge masts laid us over again and 

 again, tearing the life-boats from the 

 davits and upsetting things generally. 



Darkness now came on, accentuated by 

 flashes of lightning, and after a run of 

 half an hour it was hoped we had 

 cleared the islands to the left; so, to the 

 partial relief of all, the rapidly founder- 

 ing yacht was turned free with the wind, 

 and then commenced an all-night's run 

 through a network of coral reefs and 

 shallow bars which for six hundred miles 

 formed the easterly fringe of the Ba- 

 hama Banks. The night being impen- 

 etrable, no lookout was placed at the bow, 

 but every minute or two the lead was 

 thrown, and when occasionally the Swede 

 mate called out "Vun faddom," we knew 

 that but a single foot of water lay be- 

 tween the keel and some jagged reef. 

 But here I shall omit the suspense of the 

 next four hours. 



At midnight the gasoline tank broke 

 and the little cabin was flooded with gal- 

 lons of volatile oil. With a rush all the 

 lamps were extinguished, including the 

 binnacle light, illuminating the deck com- 

 pass, and just in time to prevent sudden 

 annihilation. The possession of a little 

 electric pocket-lamp made it possible to 

 see the wheelman's compass until, after 

 an hour's effort, with a barricade of 

 canned goods carried from the hold to 

 the deck, we succeeded, in the howling 

 gale, in lighting a marine lantern. 



At 4 130 a. m., in the first gleam of the 

 coming light, the pilot made out a high 

 and rocky island a quarter of a mile to 

 the east, and in a few minutes he skill- 

 fully guided us into a narrow entrance of 

 Upper Gold Ring Key, ninety-one miles 

 away from the anchorage of the night 

 before. Here, in a spirit of thankfulness, 

 we remained for two days, until the gale 

 passed away, repairing the broken life- 

 boats and pumping out the gasoline from 

 the bilge, during which time we cooked 

 our meals on the shore of the key, for 

 the yacht was still filled with the sicken- 

 ing and dangerous fumes of gasoline. 

 And how bright and lovely those scarred 

 rocks and tangled thickets seemed ! On 

 board everything was thoroughly 

 drenched except our precious plates, 

 which fortunately had been put up in 

 water-tight tin cans. 



