Oh what a joy when loved ones are found that were deemed
lost forever,
and what great sadness, when the path to them is blocked!
Our voyage to Hawaii was not the holiday it started out to be. The weather changed. Strong winds stirred the sea. The waves lifted themselves into mountains. Showers of spray swept across the boat. There were days when seasickness overcame us. But there were also other days, the kind one remembers fondly, days of excitement, when we struggled to keep the boat trimmed, riding the surf of a traveling wave.
Igor's expertise as a sailor proved invaluable. Without him, I wouldn't have dared go anywhere, much less crossing the ocean. Then Jack would have been right that it is too scary to venture onto the open waters in an 'apple crate,' especially when the weather is rough. And rough it became, brutally rough, so much so that Igor himself questioned the wisdom of having undertaken the voyage. In those situations, it helped to remind us that this was in fact not a pleasure cruise, but a desperate attempt to save our life.
The same precariousness prevailed in the end in regard to our navigational skills. Our instruments, the only ones that were working, were an old compass that was no longer water tight, and a sextant. Working with them was like stepping back into a bygone age, - a giant step away from gyros, satellite navigation, and computer assisted orientation systems. Sure, I had used the sextant once, back in school, briefly. But that was years ago, and then only for fun, never for any serious navigation. This time our life depended on it. If we were only a few degrees out we would miss the islands and sail past them. Igor and I remembered vaguely how a sextant worked, the rest we had to figure out for ourselves.
Under these circumstances Igor and I spent many pleasant hours working together. We plotted the day's course from where we thought we were, adjusted the wind-vane, guessed a great deal about everything, and boldly went forward.
Apart from navigation, we faced another great uncertainty. Would the islands still be a place of refuge for us, or be another hell. We had no radio on board, and no TV. We had been isolated from the world for three weeks. So much could have happened in those three weeks while we were at sea. Three weeks are like an eternity in an age when continents can be wiped out in the time of a lunch break.
On the morning we sighted land, or rather Igor did. I had already felt that we might have the missed the tiny group of islands that were mere specs on the map. Upon seeing land we declared a day of celebration. It happened quite early during Igor's midnight to morning watch in the early dawn. Almost unnoticeable in the distance, two tiny humps appeared. One appeared a little larger than the other. Igor came running down to us, to wake us up. "Hurrah, hurrah!" he shouted.
I tried to figure out what was driving him.
"I can see the islands! We've made it!" he yelled.
My first thought was one of relief that our navigation had been correct. Then, within moments, a wave of excitement came over me. I was on deck like a shot. The sleepiness vanished at an instant. The sky was totally clear. I felt a feeling of gratitude that the weather had cleared at this essential moment, because the two humps were not in line with our projected route. Had the storm continued, we might not have seen the islands and might have indeed passed them by, almost within 'touching' distance. Igor handed me the binoculars. "My God, the volcanoes!" I exclaimed. I gave the glasses to Jennie.
"It's a beautiful, beautiful sight," she remarked.
Her comment was totally on the mark. It was a beautiful sight. Out there, now in front of us, was the confirmation of our hopes. We had expected to see those two humps. We figured the volcanoes should be visible from a great distance on an ideal day. We had hoped for an ideal day. We began cheering each other after each had a look, and kept on peering through binoculars time and time again. The weeks of apprehension were history now!
