Over The Reef!

Pastor J. E. Cormack, of the SDA Mission, describes the sensation of crossing a coral reef in a bad sea.

In this case, he had gone ashore at Mangaia, in the Cook Islands, while the ship lay outside the reef; and he was now returning to the vessel in a locally-made surf boat, with some passengers and 24 cases of oranges. rESE frail craft cross the edge of the reef on the crest of chosen waves, and when the sea is rolling in from the wrong direction a crossing is fraught with hazard. , . , Our small boat has completed loading and we are now r seated atop a cargo of cased oranges for the New Zealand market. The small, frail craft slowly edges its way along the narrow channel towards the reef.

About 25 yards from the line of angry breakers we wait, as the watchmen on the reef’s edge scan the sea, watching for the correct series of waves before giving us right-of-way. For twenty minutes we wait, while a string of loading boats take their places behind us.

Our native captain and his crew’ are fully occupied in keeping the little craft’s head to the waves, which sweep across the reef.

At last we are given the signal, and our two rowers pull with might and main toward the foaming billows. Their captain literally yells his orders to them to put every ounce of strength into it, and they certainly do.

We are now approaching the edge of the submerged coral cliff where rollers mount higher and higher, and finally crash with ceaseless thunder against the jagged walls.

These great swells have come in un broken freedom across countless leagues to the South Pacific from the Antarctic. Unconsciously we tighten our grip on the orange case beneath us, and prepare for the crossing.

We are now on the edge and should soon be through. But some thing has gone wrong. There has been a split-second error in timing, with the result that the waters have rushed back to the ocean, leaving our little craft poised perilously on the cliff’s edge ,with its nose point ing sickeningly downwards toward the onrushing sea.

Now a huge wall of water rises before us and curls green as it breaks at our bows. Surely we must be engulfed.

But the boat lifts as the water rises, and we slip off the reef’s edge.

Then our bows plunge into the boil ing sea before us. But, miracul ously, we are righted and are still afloat.

The captain shouts and strains on the steering oar; the muscles of

the rowers stand out hard and tense as they pull to save our lives and cargo.

We are quickly drawn away from the reef by the foaming back surge, as old briny withdraws his diabolical forces, to gather them for the next onslaught. We are in the midst of masses of foam and spume that come swirling out of the crash ing water.

We brace ourselves as we see the second comber, like a huge battery, rise menacingly as though to pound us into the deep. The curling breaker picks us up and turns us broadside on.

It seems that nothing can save us now. Our boat is a cockleshell in a roaring chaos. We must be capsized now, and perhaps dashed without mercy on the reef we have just crossed.

Again we experience a miracle!

The seething billows let us go only a few feet from the coral wall, and our crew labours fiercely to turn the boat’s prow back to the open sea. The third wave is not so large.

It lifts us high on its crest; then we slide away down its back into the safety of the sea beyond. We are half full of water, but afloat.

As our heroic and skilful crew| complete the arduous task of baling, their exhausted captain orders them to rest a while before pulling over to the Maui Pomare. There he stands, steering-oar in hand, his whole i body trembling in reaction to the tenseness of the experience.

As we rest we offer a thankful prayer to the Ruler of earth and sea for His protecting care. An other reef crossing has been safely negotiated.