Night Landing on Palmerston

By William S. Bond

a move on, you guys!” roars VJ Capt. Andy, “This is the last boat and it will be dark before you reach the reef!”

We hurl first our baggage and then ourselves down among the already close packed mass of humanity and gear in the heaving boat and push off from the side of the schooner.

In the boat we had a crowd of Puka- Pukans and they provide a volunteer pulling crew. At the steering oar is Toka Marsters, a very skilful reefman, but he is working at a great disadvant age. He has neither his own boat nor his own trained crew. Instead, he has a heavy, overloaded boat with a quar tette of dreamy Puka-Pukans at the oars.

Darkness is fast descending. The ebb tide is pouring a sweeping current out of the narrow break in the reef which is only wide enough to admit the passage of a boat or canoe.

Under the best conditions, crossing a reef is a tricky job. And these are not at all the best conditions. Worst of all. the vitally important oarstrokes have to be directed by remote control.

Amidships sits old Jimmie Marsters.

Toka shouts his orders in the quaint Palmerston Old English; Jimmie trans lates the orders into Rarotongan for the benefit of the leader of the Puka-Pukans. who in turn translates them into the strange Puka-Puka dialect for the men at the oars. If the Puka-Pukans wish to argue or answer back —as they fre quently do—the same process must be followed in reverse.

IN the first wild confusion we miss the all-important “right wave” and be come stuck on the reef-edge. We look anxiously astern for the next oncoming breaker that will almost certainly engulf us.

Toka yells for some of the Puka- Pukans to jump overboard to lighten the boat and help to drag it over the bar.

There is no immediate response. Toka demands the reason for the delay. Back comes the answer through the interpre ters: “The boys say, ‘That’s a fine idea —but what about the sharks?’” (Two sinister grey shapes had passed us as we ap proached the reef.) “B the sharks!” roars Toka, “into the b sea with thee!”

Shocked into action by the blast, two Puka-Pukans tumble into the sea with out waiting for interpretation.

Thanks to their assistance, we become unstuck a split second before a breaker crashes in behind us, giving us a mere splashing, instead of roaring right over us as seemed imminent. Now we are just inside the entrance, with the fierce current ripping out and breakers rolling in astern.

Sweating and struggling with his heavy steering oar to keep the boat stern to the sea, Toka shouts desperate orders, which are mostly lost in the terrific din as every man-jack in the boat yells contradictory instructions and ad vice in several different languages, “Bahck puhll! Bahck puhll—ye b fuhlls!” screams Toka.

The Puka-Pukans promptly stop pull ing, leaving the boat to broach crazily.

“What did he say?” they ask each other.

Their leader turns to Jimmie “The boys want to know what he said?”

Jimmie translates. The spokeseman turns back to his countrymen—“He says, ‘Back pull! Back pull—you b fools!’”

The rowers beam with enlightenment: “Back pull? Why, yes—of course! Back

pull? Certainly!”

By this time the situation has entirely changed, and as the rowers put their whole weight into the “bahck puhll,”

Toka is yelling for full speed ahead. The rowers finally compromise with a short windmill motion of their oars which they hope may be mistaken for either direc tion.

Meantime, the boat is turning round and round in its own length, and in con stant peril of swamping.

The passage is studded with coral heads and we frequently get stuck by bow or stern when Toka shouts for us to “Coom haft!” or “Go for’ard!” and there is further confusion as we struggle to obey these instructions, barking our shins on the thwarts and stamping on each other’s toes.

We are getting hysterical by now and our efforts become more feeble as we are convulsed with wild laughter. Toka does not see anything to laugh at.

WHEN, at last, we are well into the passage, Toka orders two of the Puka-Pukans to get out on the reef alongside the channel and help to stem the current by hauling on the boat’s painter.

We are just making headway when the two men stop and look down into the water, pointing and talking excitedly.

Toka calls to Jimmie to ask what is wrong. Jimmie requests the Puka-Puka spokesman to inquire into the matter.

It takes an appreciable time to get the query and the answer translated both ways, but eventually Jimmie gets the answer through—“ They say, ‘Coo —look!

There’s a crayfish.’ ”

The frightful blast of old-fashioned, Palmerston - Birmingham - whaler-Eng lish provoked by this reply shocks us all into momentary silence, but the two men on the reef seem to sense its import and jump into action.

Alas for their new-found energy! A reef is full of potholes. The two men are wearing the famous Puka-Puka cow boy hats, with their immensely wide brims and tall crowns. We see two figures in broad-brimmed hats struggling manfully in the pale light of the rising moon—the next moment there is only one figure, staring down at a broad brimmed hat apparently floating on the surface of the water. Slowly the hat rises, shaking itself as it regains the height of a normal man.

A few more staggering steps, and this time the rear hat suddenly appears float ing on the surface of the water and goes through the same motions. The two cowboys repeat this diverting stunt a number of times.

But Toka does not see the funny side of it. The poor lad seems to have no sense of humour.

WE come at last to the calm waters of the lagoon and wend our way through the coral heads to the beach, where we step out on to the firm, white sand.

By the aid of the same providence that looks after drunks and little chil dren, we have made our landing on Palmerston.

Mr. A. W. Dickes, who had filled practically everv administrative post in the Solomon Islands and Gilbert and El lice Islands Governments, since he joined the BSI service in 1925, was transferred in June last to an important position in Nig eria. He is a courteous and helpful offi cial, who made many friends during his 20 years’ service in the South Seas.