ALONE AT SEA by HANNES LINDEMAN

Author:HANNES LINDEMAN
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RANDOM HOUSE
Published: 1958-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

I would land in the bay of Phillipsburg. Now at last I was sure. To the west of St. Martin lies the Anegade Passage,

1% Second Voyage

which I would have to cross to reach St. Thomas. It is not easy sailing, and I knew I would have to put my sails and equipment in order, before attempting it.

A last squall stirred the surface of the sea. Slowly I paddled toward St. Martin; rising ahead of me I saw the reality of my dreams: a little church, red roofs and green palms. I looked on peace and calm. It was late afternoon as I entered the harbor, paddling close to the wharf where a crowd was sheltered from the rain squall. I sailed straight through the surf up onto the beach.

Forgotten were my seventy-two days, forgotten my discomforts, my fright and my despair. As I climbed out of the boat, a breaker poured a bucket of water into it, my knees buckled, and I held onto the edge of the boat. Turning her on her bow, I tried to pull the stern out of the water. I went to grab the bow, but I stumbled and fell into the last licks of surf. I tried again, and again I fell, until at last people came over from the wharf and carried the Liberia ten yards up the beach to where the water could not reach her. They asked me where I came from. "Las Palmas," I answered, but it meant nothing to them and they ran back to their dry shelter.

I made a stab at clearing up the sails, until I was interrupted by a voice from the pier; a police officer wanted to see my papers, so I drew a watertight bag from under the forepart of the spray cover and stumbled over to him. I handed him my passport and answered his questions. The crowd listened to my story and, after they had grasped the extent of my voyage, insisted on escorting me to the hotel. But the boat was still my first concern. I made my way awkwardly back to her, fastened the sails, closed the spray-cover opening and took out a few of my possessions. Then, very slowly, I walked to the hotel. Questions were thrown at me from all

175 AN IMPOSSIBLE VOYAGE

sides, but I hardly heard them. "Seventy-two days at sea, seventy-two days at sea!" repeated itself rhythmically in my mind. I could not believe that I was finally and at last stumbling through the streets of Phillipsburg. Although I walked shakily, like an old man, I did not need support from anyone.

At the hotel, the manager told me that word of my arrival had reached the Governor, who had made me a guest of the island. Someone found clothes for me, and I was led to a shower. Staring back at me, from the old cracked mirror, was a face I did not recognize: sunken eyes, hollow cheeks and unkempt blond beard. Good Lord! Was that

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