6 
Q\ t i l 
being unable to come, Emmett brought along a good friend, Tony 
Halik, free-lance photographer, who then was roaming the world 
for Life Magazine. Long will be remembered the day, April 4, 
1960, that they came aboard for lunch. — ° ' 'i L ’ /,: 
i)AoO Cft ca^ . 
Our amidship cabin was a snug fit for the seven of us, but 
all the more intimate for rubbing elbows, telling fish tales, 
talking of navigational hazards, and discussing the Boca de 
Paila camp over which Emmett presided on the mainland. Quite 
happily we had come to dessert and coffee, but just as the 
canned peaches were being passed, the gentle rhythm of the 
ship's riding at anchor was suddenly broken. From out of nowhere, 
utterly without warning, a fiercely bitter gale, driving shoreward, 
bore down on us, one of those violent gusty westerlies with 
40-mile-an-hour or better winds, a blow that the native people 
hereabouts call a "bonanza." 
Desert and coffee were forgotten in the urgency and commotion 
//f It _ y 
of the moment. The heaving and s training of Gowan's plexiglass 
r 
twin-outboard threatened at any moment to snap its painter. 
There was not a second to lose* Without as much as by-your- leave , 
Gowan and Halik tumbled aboard their light motorboat, cast off, 
and scudded down the coast for Caleta Bay, the only natural 
small boat shelter on the island, 4 miles to the south, shallow 
but safe and landlocked. 
Aboard the schooner, we, too, had to be on the jump. There 
was the engine to start and a dragging anchor and two dinghies 
to get aboard. The violent on-shore gusts of wind threatened 
