1,000 Miles of Sea-Sickness

By Hilda Hoodless.

IN a rash moment —or at least, because there seemed no other way—my hus band, and I decided to 'return to Suva from Tarawa, via Canton Island.

The little ship, Nei Nimanoa, was to go to Canton Island, nearly 1,000 miles al most due east of Tarawa, to take a new manager and about 20 Gilbertese labourers to Canton Island, where they would catch an even smaller vessel, sailing another 1,000 miles north-east to Christmas Island. There was room for us on the Nimanoa.

About 11 a.m. on a Saturday we at last set out on what was hoped would be a 6i days’ voyage. Within a couple of hours of raising the anchor, the Lady Nimanoa was battling against a strong easterly wind and the South Equatorial current. When the South Equatorial current, flowing due westwards, is whipped to fury by a persistent easterly wind, sailing against it is like trying to swim uo a waterfall.

Nei Nimanoa had very little cargo aboard, no ballast except a few extra water tanks, about 40 persons, all told, and their luggage. Consequently, she bobbed like a cork on the great Pacific; she bucked like a frightened mule, and she rolled jerkilv. The current was set ting her back about 70 miles a day from her normal speed, and the experience was unpleasant for all. To make matters more exasperating, the sun shone day by day over a deep blue, heaving ocean; and a lovely tropic moon reached its full during our trip.

All day we shaded our eyes from the glare, but in the cool, dim light we lay and watched the mbon glint on the waves. Not a drop of rain fell during that long and tedious voyage, and we were thankful that we need not go be low into our hot, stuffy cabin. All night, lying on our stretcher-beds on the boat deck, we watched the friendly Southern Cross and the two Pointers rise from the sea on the starboard beam, and slowly describe a semi-pircle in the starry sky, as though fastened at the end of a long, rigid bar, with its point on the horizon.

At night, we could gauge the rough ness of the sea by the noise or the quiet amidships. The Gilbert Islanders love to sing and dance, to the accompaniment of a band of their heftiest young men, who beat with their hands and fore arms on an empty case, shouting with added glee if the protesting case breaks beneath their drummings. On two nights only did we listen to the drum and the singing from the lower deck.

It was impossible for anyone but a sailor to walk about or even stand up without holding by both hands to the nearest stanchion or railing. Our choice was between lying in an airless cabin down below, or clinging to a stretcher bed on the upper boat-deck. Obviously, we chose the boat deck, together with the east wind. The deck was small and had no sides to it, save only a two-inch footboard, and a rope about four feet above the decking.

After the first four days, when I began to take more interest in my surroundings, I did sometimes idly wonder what I might cling to if I rolled off my narrow stretcher-bed. But there was no worry attached to the wonder.

THE busiest men on the, ship were the Chief, Second and Third engineers.

They did everything possible to get an extra knot in the ship’s speed.

Each day one had only to look at the expression on the Chief Engineer’s face to know whether the daily run was over or under the 100 nautical miles,

after the meridian altitude of the sun had been taken by Captain Milner and Second Officer Hall. Chief Officer Allen found much greater pleasure in shooting the evening stars round about sunset.

Our stretcher-beds were only a few feet away from all these astronomical investi gations, and as the Niminoa pitched and rolled, we admired the serene manner of each navigating officer.

On two occasions at night, we were given a vivid display of heavy sparks from the overheated carbonised funnel. Buckets of water were splashed on to the can vas awning over our heads, and glowing pieces of soot which fell on to our deck were quickly extinguished by dim figures moving about on bare feet.

Day after day, Neo Nimanoa fought her way towards Canton Island. Had conditions been favourable, we might have deviated a little to attempt to verify the position of one or other of the doubt ful reefs—but all we saw, except sea and sky, was an occasional sea-bird, flying three or four hundred miles from the nearest land, staying a few hours —or a couple of days, as one black gull did— with the ship, and then going we knew not where.

Betio is just over one degree north of the equator and Canton Island is three or four degrees south. On this voyage we sailed as near as possible to that mys terious spot on the Pacific Ocean which is designated Latitude 0 deg., Longitude 180 deg. E or W. The opposite spot on

the ocean surface is Lat. 0, Long. 0, lying in the Gulf of Guinea, off the west coast of Africa. Thousands of passengers in the Union Castle steamers have sailed near the latter, but it can safely be stated that very few have sailed close by the Pacific mid-point.

After a seemingly unending 9£ days we began to approach Canton Is., and for the last two hours on 'Sunday morning (March 5) an officer or a passenger was to be seen gazing eastwards through binoculars, until the welcome word had passed round that the wreck at the lagoon entrance could be just seen, to gether with the wireless mast. It is unfortunate that the first indication of Canton Island from the sea is the war time wreck of one of the great President ships: the island itself standing only a few feet above sea level.

By 2 p.m. we were outside the narrow entrance to the lagoon, and were boarded by the District Officer, Mr. Wm. Miller.

Our pleasure at being there could not even be dampened by having to drift back westwards for half-an-hour, until the rip of the out-rushing tide had sub sided.

Our welcome by the happy little com munity on Canton Island was so friendly and so kindly that it did much to make us rapidly forget the discomfort of our sea voyage. Added to this personal friendliness was the pleasure of drink ing pure, fresh water, after three months of brackish well-water, and the joy of having fresh milk brought by air from New Zealand or Honolulu less than 24 nours before. We shall not soon forget our afternoon and evening spent on Can ton Island —which by air is only six hours from Fiji.