Bengt Danielsson met his friend Alain Brun on the quay.
Chapter 6
WE LOSE OUR BALANCE
As the raft sank deeper and deeper—which she did with alarming rapidity—she gradually became unsteadier and more difficult to steer. Although our desperate efforts to swing down to the south-west, where there were many inhabited islands, had no result whatever, and our actual course continued to be north-north-west, I would on no account give way to my shipmates’ entreaties to let the raft drift. How right I was in insisting on this was shown as clearly as I could have desired during the night of July 16th-17th, when the rudder-post broke yet again. The raft had often heeled over before, so we were not at first unduly anxious when she immediately turned broadside on to the sea and took a heavy list. But when, instead of slowly righting herself, she continued her pendulum movement until we had the greatest difficulty in remaining on the roof, it became alarmingly clear to us that she had in only a few days lost a great deal more of her already very limited stability.
The only way of preventing the raft from capsizing altogether was, of course, to establish a counter-weight as quickly as possible. We soon found that it was not enough to crawl over to the windward side, so I began to move as much as possible of our gear and provisions across, while my shipmates hung as live weights along the cabin roof. It was fearfully exhausting on account of the steep slope of the deck, but I had the satisfaction of seeing the raft slowly recover her equilibrium.
We had now to resume our course without delay, and even this proved to be much more difficult than we had imagined. It was impossible to set the sail at an angle and make use of the wind, as we had so often done before with good results. We therefore made a long oar out of a slat and a plank so as to row stem up into the wind. But the oar was as heavy as lead, the aft platform was slippery and the raft unsteady, and only after several hours of hard toil were we at last able to shove the raft round so that her bows pointed westward again. After this we had to shift all the cargo again at top speed so that we should not heel over the other way. We spent the rest of the night repairing the rudder, while all the time the raft continuously threatened to turn round, for our only temporary means of steering were our heavy oar and our few remaining centreboards.
When the rudder was at last in place, towards noon the following day, the raft became fairly steady again, but it felt as if she had had a knock of some kind, for she lurched more violently than before and it was very difficult to steer a straight course. To avoid all further mishaps of this kind we agreed that in future we must keep a sharper look-out during our turns at the helm. Both Jean and Hans did their utmost, but strangely enough Juanito became increasingly careless and seemed, like the raft, to be in a fair way to losing his balance altogether.
The first warning that there was something seriously wrong with poor Juanito came shortly afterwards, when he quite unnecessarily let the raft turn round no less than three times during his turns at the helm. Each time we all but tumbled into the sea and had to toil like galley-slaves for hours to prevent a serious catastrophe. We were quite understandably in a towering rage and cursed him furiously. As under similar circumstances a few weeks earlier, Juanito was offended and refused point-blank to take any more watches. Jean, Hans and I were thoroughly sick of our problem child’s stupidity. We decided, therefore, to act in future as if Juanito no longer existed and quietly divided the watches between ourselves.
Instead of resigning himself to this indulgent decision, Juanito quite unexpectedly began to hold forth, declaring that he wanted to build a boat and clear out. He took good care not to say where he would go, but he described eloquently and in detail the boat he meant to build (framework of eucalyptus wood and bottom and sides of masonite) and confidently asserted that it would be possible to do at least four knots with such a boat. To my infinite annoyance Jean and Hans—who had considered similar plans directly after we had missed the Marquesas Islands —listened eagerly to this lunatic proposal and almost seemed to be taking it seriously. Eric and I had secretly discussed every conceivable plan for saving ourselves a long time before, just to know how to answer our over-optimistic shipmates on occasions like this, and we had come to the conclusion that only if we passed very close to an island, and of course on the windward side of it, would there be some sense in building a small escape craft, more like a raft than a boat, and venture on a sailing race with death. I now expounded this view in detail, emphasizing that apart from the difficulty of building a suitable craft it was still much too early to try to abandon the raft, as it was at least 300 miles to the nearest island, Caroline, and we seemed to be moving away from it.
I had hoped that my diplomatic speech, which showed that I was not all opposed to their plans in principle, but only wanted to wait for the right moment to try to carry them out, would fall on good soil. But I was speaking to ears that would not hear, and, much as I disliked worrying Eric, I had to ask him to let us know in plain language what he thought of Juanitos proposal. Unfortunately he was more ill and tired than usual, for he only replied in a feeble voice:
‘Do what you like, but I’m staying here on board Tahiti Nut IV
I declared emphatically that I meant to stay on board like Eric, which meant that if the three members of the boat-building party persisted in their plans they would have to do without a navigator. Jean and Hans then at last saw reason. Juanito, on the contrary, seemed absolutely furious at the turn events had taken, and after sulking for a long time in one comer of the roof he suddenly rose and grimly announced that he meant to throw our provisions and our water overboard, ‘so that there may be an end to our sufferings for good and all.’
A few threatening gestures were enough to make him desist from this plan, but it was clear that we should have to keep a close watch on him in future. For that matter, his abnormally large, bloodshot eyes showed more clearly than all his words and action that there was something wrong with poor Juanito’s mind. I spent a very uneasy and sleepless night, but when daylight returned Juanito, who strange to say had slept well all night, seemed much calmer. Eric with wonderful self-control had a long and comradely talk with him, after which he promised to behave properly, but curiously enough did not consider that this meant helping with the steering watches or resuming his duties as cook. As he clearly could no longer be relied on, and was rather a hindrance than a help to us in our work, we made no objections.
Soon, however, Juanito’s conscience seemed to be troubling him, for I often noticed him slyly following our activities with guilty looks. Two days later he was no longer able to endure doing nothing, for he slipped down from the roof and asked politely if he could not help me to raise the floor in the cabin, a most necessary piece of work which I had just begun. Of course I nodded encouragingly, and he gave me excellent help.
But the very next day things were all wrong again. This time Juanito was discontented with the rationing. He was particularly annoyed at not getting any honey. If he had complained that the food was monotonous and rations small I should not have been much surprised. If he had asked to have more water, because he was dying of thirst, I should have understood him still better, for the distilling apparatus had been broken several days before and all our attempts to repair it had failed. But to worry about honey, which only makes one more thirsty, was absolutely irrational.
The only conceivable explanation was that Juanito in this indirect manner was aiming at Eric, whose sole food still consisted of honey and condensed milk. I was therefore about to refuse his mean request with the contempt it deserved when, to my utter astonishment, Jean and Hans sided with Juanito and also demanded that we should share out the remaining seven pots of honey among ourselves. In this case too their action appeared to be primarily a more or less conscious protest against Eric for the expedition having taken such a disastrous turn.
I saw at once that it was useless to try to explain that strict rationing was in everyone’s interest and that in the name of justice Eric w
as obviously entitled to all the honey and more condensed milk than the rest of us, seeing that he ate no other food at all. In the malignant frame of mind in which my comrades were, no explanations could possibly lead to anything but quarrelling and perhaps to even worse disputes, which might have catastrophic results, since in our perilous situation it was absolutely vital to stick together and help one another. So without saying a word I produced three pots of honey and gave one to each of them. But I soon began to regret my weakness, not so much for Eric’s sake, for there were four pots left, but on grounds of discipline.
Only a few hours later I had clear proof of how dangerous it was to set foot on the comfortable path of concessions, and this time too Juanito was the chief actor in a still more unpleasant drama.
Although Juanito had just been urging that the rations were too small, he quite illogically refused to eat when Jean served up fresh tunny and biscuits for dinner. Of course this was a caprice which did us no harm, and we only shrugged our shoulders at it. After watching us gloomily as we ate he suddenly got up, took an axe out of the tool-box and slid down from the roof. Still without saying a word, he laid himself on his stomach in the water and cut off the eucalyptus bowsprit which, like the masts, we had made fast along the side of the raft.
As if by secret agreement, we all looked the other way, as if indifferent and uninterested, while in reality we were wondering what on earth we were to do. I quickly came to the conclusion that I must stop Juanito at once, in order to put an end once and for all to the dangerous delusion which unfortunately seemed to be gaining ground on board—namely, that everyone could do as he liked. But at the same time I saw that I might have a better chance of success if I did not set about it too brusquely and violently. So I said to Jean in a loud voice:
‘If it isn’t too much for you, Jean, I’d like you to make another oar. We need a reserve oar in case the one were using should get broken.’
Jean understood what I meant at once. He slipped down from the roof and began to examine the eucalyptus trunks which Juanito had cut loose.
‘Fine, Juanito, I think these’ll do,’ he said in a firm voice, bending down.
‘Don’t touch them!’ Juanito hissed threateningly, drawing close to Jean.
‘Why not? What do you mean to use them for, Juanito?’ Jean asked politely.
‘That’s no business of yours. Leave me alone.’
His voice trembled with suppressed rage. Eric turned with an effort and looked sternly at Juanito. Suddenly Juanito lost all self-control and poured out a confused stream of words:
‘I’m going to build my boat now whether you like it or not... I can’t stand it any longer... do you hear. . . shut up, all of you . . . it’s all over . . . we’re dying slowly of thirst. . . and I who will live, live . . . don’t you understand that. . . and it’s all your fault. . .your fault—’
He pointed a quivering finger accusingly at Eric.
This was too much for me. Even if Juanito was suffering from temporary mental aberration, we could not go on treating him with consideration. I shouted, beside myself with rage:
‘Hold your tongue, or you’ll be sorry for it. Do you think you’re the only person on board who wants to live? As far as I can understand, everyone of us is as keen as another to come through this adventure with a whole skin. But if we’re to have a chance of getting through we must stick together. Anyone who goes off alone is lost at once.’
Eric joined in and, showing great patience, made several tactful attempts to calm Juanito. But reasonable argument no longer had any effect, for instead of listening he uttered fearful threats and began to brandish the axe furiously. Then suddenly he fell silent and vanished into the cabin looking scared. But this hardly made the situation any less serious. We held a ship’s council at once, and to our great joy and relief Eric showed astonishing resolution and power of action. The following report which he drafted immediately afterwards, and which I here quote verbatim, describes what had happened:
At sea, on board Tahiti Nui II
Today, July 21, 195$, at 2 P.M. by local time, our position being 6° 46’ south by 147° 36’ west, I alled together my deputy Alain Brun, Jean Pelissier and Hans Fischer to consider and take a decision on the following serious matter:
Juanito Bugueno, who has been causing us anxiety for some time past, has just declared that he ‘has decided to build himself a raft and clear out’.
When I tried to make him understand that he could not always do just what he liked without regard to the well-being and safety of the rest of us, he threatened with an axe he had in his hand and cried menacingly that ‘he would not let anyone try to prevent him from building a raft’.
These are the most important facts.
After discussing the matter we have decided unanimously:
(i) to let Juanito Bugueno build his raft on condition that he does not thereby diminish Tahiti Nui Us already much reduced buoyancy;
(ii) whether he will or not, to compel our former comrade without hesitation or compassion to cast off-having first received his share of the provisions and water —as soon as his raft is completed.
I have read this report to Juanito Bugueno so that he shall not be ignorant of what we have decided.
Done in duplicate on board
E. de Bisschop
Captain
While Eric, exhausted by his immense exertions, was sinking once more into a profound trance, we others continued our occupations with as indifferent an air as possible. But we could not help casting now and then a compassionate glance towards the starboard side, where Juanito, wearing a happy smile, was nailing a few planks on to two spars about three feet long. These were evidently his oars. As soon as he had finished them he made a triangular frame of eucalyptus slats, and to judge from the numerous measurements which he took of two of our ten-gallon tanks it looked as if he intended to make a kind of raft. Evidently he had quite abandoned his ambitious plan of building a boat which would do four knots. That was always something to be thankful for. If he had persisted in it we should have been obliged to prevent him by force from taking timber which we could not spare without imperilling our own safety. Juanito worked hard and quickly, but of course that did not make his queer craft any more seaworthy. It could be at best a toy for a native child in a shallow lagoon. But we were still hundreds of miles from the nearest island with a lagoon, which moreover was on the windward side of Tahiti Nui II, and to attempt to get there with this toy raft was sheer suicide.
I felt strongly inclined to rush forward and shake Juanito till he realized how insanely he was behaving. But I refrained, for I knew in my inmost heart that the best solution for us all was to let him clear out. He had long ago passed the stage at which his eccentricity had taken such comparatively harmless forms as refusing to take watches or to be cook, and now he was undoubtedly a danger to our security. Cruel as it was, I suppressed all the brotherly compassion I felt for him and let him carry on.
Apparently pleased with his day, Juanito climbed up on to the roof late that night and curled up in his usual place, evidently quite unaware that Hans and I were lying there, a few inches away, oppressed and unhappy, staring up at the overclouded sky. (Jean was at the helm and Eric was still plunged in a deep trance.) In five minutes he was asleep. He was probably more dangerous to himself than to anyone else; nevertheless Jean, Hans and I agreed to keep an eye on him throughout our watches. I gradually dozed off and had horrible dreams of swarthy fellows paddling round on large bottles and only laughing contemptuously every time I begged them to let me have a little water. After a time one of my tormentors came ashore on the little island I thought I was sitting on, and began to shake me violently, bellowing something in one of my ears at the same time. I tried to free myself, but he would not let go of my shoulders. Not for a long time did I realize that I was dreaming no longer and that it was Hans who was trying to wake me. I felt that he was trying eagerly to tell me something, but in my drowsy state I could not hear what h
e was saying. Then I suddenly remembered the events of the previous day and was wide awake in an instant. What had Juanito been up to now? I looked round quickly and saw his curled up form in the same place as before. To judge by his quiet regular breathing he was still sound asleep.
‘Don’t you notice anything unusual?’ asked Hans, holding out his hand.
I held out my hand. Several damp spots appeared on it at once. Soon the drops were falling quickly. There could no longer be any doubt. The longed-for miracle had come about at last. For the first time since we left Callao there was a good downpour of rain. I jumped up, meaning to spread out all our sails quickly so that no more precious drops might be lost, but Hans checked me and pointed with a little smile to a large canvas funnel which he had rigged up at the edge of the cabin roof. Under the funnel stood a saucepan. Hans was justifiably proud of his unusual handiness, and I was not sparing of my praises. While the rain continued to pour down, Hans, Jean and I rapidly hunted up all the empty casks, demijohns, saucepans and bottles which we had on board.
When we crawled up on to the roof again, clasping our varied collection of vessels in our arms, the saucepan under the canvas funnel was already full. Jean filled a cup and gave it to Eric, who emptied it slowly with a reverent expression and handed it back with the moving words: ‘Thanks for the greatest and purest enjoyment of my life.’
Like Jean and Hans, I had more difficulty in restraining my eagerness and plunged almost the whole of my face into a saucepan and greedily swallowed several pints almost at a draught. I felt that the water was spreading into the farthest comers of my dried-up body, for my arms gradually became curiously heavy. At the same time my head became heavier and heavier, as if even my brain had sucked up some of the water. So it was not so strange as it sounds that only much later, when I was lying comfortably stretched out on my back with several vessels containing water within my reach, did I suddenly become aware of Juanito squatting beside me and drinking out of a bottle. He had probably been squatting there for a long time, for he was only taking a little sip now and then. When he saw that I had noticed him, he put down the bottle, smiled at me apologetically and said gently:
From Raft to Raft Page 14