A Hero for Leanda

by far the most difficult part of the whole trip. Unless he could make a perfect landfall, all his earlier efforts would have been wasted. He watched the compass constantly.
    No sound came from the forecabin as they pounded steadily through the night. Once, around two o’clock, Kastella stuck his head out and looked about him, but there was nothing to be seen except empty sea. Conway , wholly preoccupied with navigating the ship, replied curtly to his few questions, and he soon withdrew again.
    At four, Conway suddenly throttled the engine down to half speed. Kastella was out of the door at once. “What’s happening?”
    “I can hear the reef,” Conway said. He let the engine idle for a moment or two while Kastella listened. From somewhere not far ahead of them came the menacing roar of surf. They must be very near the coast now, but there was still nothing to be seen. Apart from a few stars, there wasn’t a light anywhere.
    “No wonder they call it the Dark Continent !” Conway said.
    Kastella gazed anxiously toward the surf. “Will you be able to find your way in?”
    “I’ll tell you that later!”
    “Are you sure it’s the right spot?”
    “I’m not sure, no—I just hope it is! Anyway, it’s not Mombasa , is it?”
    “It’s not Mombasa ,” Kastella agreed.
    “I told you I wanted my money,” Conway said.
    They were going dead slow now. The air was very still. Scents from the land hung over the ship. The surface of the sea was calm, but there was a troublesome swell. Suddenly Conway said, “Look!” and pointed. Kastella, gazing ahead, saw a line of white foam on the water. The noise of the surf was much louder. Conway turned Thalia parallel with the reef, so that her bows faced northward. This was the most anxious time of all. He had deliberately aimed for a spot well south of the gap, so that by turning north he’d be sure of finding it. He had navigated with all the skill and care he could command—yet he might easily be several miles out. He looked at his watch in the dim light of the hurricane lamp. Nearly half past four! They were cutting it pretty fine. He stood on the seat by the tiller, peering ahead. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. The gap should be visible by now—they must have covered more than a mile along the reef.... Suddenly, a satisfied “Ah!” escaped him. There was a break in the line of foam on the port bow. It was only a short one, and at close quarters he decided he didn’t much like the look of it—if he got into a blind pass, a cul-de-sac, in the dark, he’d be in real trouble.... He kept going. Soon there was a new break, a wider one. He closed in cautiously, watching the surface of the water for any fleck of white. He was no longer thinking about what Kastella might do when they arrived. If they hit the coral, the problem wouldn’t arise! Slowly the yacht nosed forward.... Yes, this looked more like it! To port there was no surf at all now—only a surging mass of black water. Conway put the tiller hard over and turned into the gap. The ship started to swing broadside on in the swell, rocking violently, and he had to open the throttle wide to keep control. For good or ill, they were committed now. Thalia raced ahead. Gradually the noise of the surf receded. They were in the lagoon! Conway took a wide sweep round behind the reef. Soon the rocking ceased, the water grew calm. They were safe. He switched the engine off and let the ship glide on silently till she lost all way. Then he went forward and quietly lowered the anchor over the bows.
    “Well, we’ve made it!” he said softly, as he rejoined Kastella in the cockpit. “And though I say it myself, it was a bloody good bit of navigation.” He pointed shoreward, with a sailor’s pride in a good landfall. Against the starry sky, coconut palms were silhouetted in a pattern that he recognized. From their depths came a faint gleam of white. “Ionides shack,” he said. He bent to turn out the hurricane lamp.
    As he straightened up again, Kastella’s gun poked sharply into his ribs. Conway was suddenly very still.
    Kastella gave him a slap on the back. “I just wanted to congratulate you,” he said. “Well done, Conway !”

    They wasted no time. Quickly but silently, Conway launched the dinghy. Kastella went forward to make sure the forecabin door was locked. “Good-by, Leanda!” he called. Don’t forget what I said—about talking. I meant it, you know! ’ There was no reply. After a moment he