With A Blade And A Prayer.

By Amel

“Attractive property for sale, 21 hours run hy launch from Suva...

SO said the advertisement, and the rest of the description was so alluring that we decided to go and “take a look,” as the Americans say.

At eight o’clock on a teeming wet morning, we sat in a launch at Walu Bay, waiting to be taken along the coast. The canvas curtains of the launch dripped dismally, and it looked like being a terrible day.

However, the sun appeared—with the crew. They were an hour late, owing to a slight misunderstanding.

Leslie was waiting for Douglas, Douglas was waiting for Leslie, and Kai was waiting for both of them.

The matter was soon straightened out to everyone’s satisfaction.

After the rain, the sea had a crisp sparkle, and we got away down the harbour to a reassuring roar from the engine.

Near Lami, the scars of the 1953 earthquake disfigured the green hills. The coastline from there towards Navua seemed strangely deserted. Had one been unaware of the existence of a city of 25,000 souls nearby, one could easily have imagined that hungry cannibals still raided the coastal villages, or prowled through the fastnesses of the rugged interior.

The launch wove a tortuous path among the beacons which marked the channel, like fencing posts with out any wire.

Douglas and Kai trolled their fish ing lines. They were so confident of catching a fish that they had brought a saucepan to cook it in.

The tide was falling, and the boat bumped once. Nobody took much notice. Our attention was focussed on a small aeroplane which was swooping down to give us a buzz.

Did I say “buzz”? Why, it almost came on board and shook hands with us!

We gazed at it, open-mouthed, our ears ringing.

Someone remarked that the launch was vibrating, but nobody took much notice. Leslie hooked a nice fish, and Kai described the soup he would make for us.

Within the scheduled time, we reached our destination, and anchored the launch in a bay.

Above us was a s f eep bluff, on which stood a cement bungalow, sur rounded by long grass, and flower ing shrubs in a neglected garden.

Kai hopped overboard, and ducked his head under the launch to see what had been causing the vibra tion. He surfaced, very promptly, with a startled expression on his round face.

“There’s a blade missing from the. propeller!” he gasped.

Leslie was unperturbed. “It music have come off when we bumped reef,” he said, calmly. “Never mindfc we’ll get home on two blades.”

While we explored the property* Kai and Douglas commandeered thu kitchen, to prepare lunch. We coulo hear them, chattering like magpies Delicious smells of fish and omonx floated out on the breeze.

Presently, we had lunch —fruitt cake, tea, skyscrapers of sand! wiches, and great bowls of fish sour liberally seasoned with pepper ginger and chillies.

“I only made it a little bit hoc this time,” said Kai, blandly, as w coughed, sneezed, spluttered ami choked over it. “Only three chillies; instead of six.”

“Well, next time,” said Leslie with a sly look at our red facei; “mind you season it properly.”

Douglas suggested that we shoull go outside the reef on the return journey, to catch some big fish. Wv all agreed, and Kai said he woull have another look to see if we stii had two blades on the propeller.

We washed the dishes, packed in the remains of our lunch, and pr© pared for departure. While w. threw oranges and coconuts oni the launch, Kai submerged agaiii to check on the propeller.

To our amazement, he came in with a rush, and exclaimed “Whadyathink? There’s only on blade left on the propeller!”

One blade —and, as far as on could see, no mast, sail, dinghy, oae lifebelt or pole to help us, shouli the remaining blade give up tM ghost. So casual, taut yet so typicic of Fiji, where, times without nunr ber, people set out on sea journe;; in small craft, without thought < providing for any emergency whio might occur.

This disturbing news cancelled s our plans for going outside the re©; so we fished near an island until tH, tide rose sufficiently for us to naw gate the inside passage. Thee vibrating madly in every plank, will water pouring in through the crank shaft, and the crew bailing doggedf from start to finish, we set out o the painful journey home.

We completed it, too, under ox own steam —in 41 hours ins f ead 21. The Suva skyline looked ves good to us.

As the launch chugged unde Walu Bay bridge, Douglas, the i:i curable optimist, sang “Walkin’ M Baby Back Home.”

“Not so late for the party tt night, after all,” said he, cheerful!