  The boys watched the dinghy plunge into the surf near the shore. They saw it picked up by a breaking roller, and carried on its crest to the shore. They saw the two men pull the dinghy high up on the shore and hide it behind some low, spreading growth. “They’re taking no chances,” Biff said to Li. “We’ve got to be equally careful.” Biff’s voice held a grim tone. The memory of the night before was still vivid in his mind. Li’s face was solemn, too, his round brown eyes serious. “You’re the captain, Biff.” Biff smiled. He didn’t want Li to become too alarmed. “Okay, my friend. Let’s put out to sea. I can handle the mainsail and the jib. You stand by the tiller. We’ll hoist the mizzen after we’re heading out.” Biff ran the mainsail up, leaped to the bow of the boat, and started hauling in the anchor on a hand winch. It took a lot of effort. The anchor was heavy, and he had to raise it thirty feet. The Easy Action, a spanking off-shore breeze in its sail, was already plowing through the sea before Biff had the anchor safely stowed. Once the anchor was stowed, Biff went back to the cockpit. “How’m I doing, Biff? Heading the right way?” Li asked. “Point her a little more to the southwest. I’ll raise the mizzen.” Biff finished his seaman’s job and dropped down in the cockpit beside Li for a breather. “I’ll take over now, Li. You go forward and be the lookout. Take the binoculars,” he suggested. All morning they continued their crisscrossing course. The high noon sun blazed down on them. The heat soon dried the bedding. Biff heaved to long enough to carry the bedding below and make up the berths. They had a sandwich, then stretched out on the hot deck for a brief rest. The boat drifted. “Where do you think we are now, Li?” Biff asked. Li looked shoreward. They could just make out the coastline. “I think we’ve rounded Ka Lae. Must be just off the black sand beach.” “Black sand?” “Yes, Biff. The lava from Kilauea spilled down to the ocean. The surf ground it up into a fine black powder, really finer than sand. That’s why it’s called the black sand beach. It’s all along the Puna coast, all the way up to Hilo—that’s a city on the west side of the Big Island.” “I think we ought to change course, then. Head a point or two north by northeast. Then we’ll wing back east and return to the anchorage.” Li was at the tiller. He came about, and the Easy Action was put on a long reach, pushed briskly along by a southerly wind. Toward the middle of the afternoon, Biff looked up to see Li coming aft. Biff was at the tiller. He noticed a frown on his Hawaiian friend’s face. “What’s up, Li? You sight something?” “No, Biff,” Li shook his head. The serious expression on his face had deepened to one of worry. “Then what’s your trouble? You look like you got trouble.” Biff smiled. “I’m afraid we both may have,” Li answered. “Have you noticed it getting any warmer?” “A little, perhaps. Wind’s freshened a bit, too.” “That’s it. I’m afraid we’re in for some Kona weather.” “Kona weather?” “Yes, that’s what we call a wind coming up from the Equator. Sometimes it reaches gale force. Always there’s heavy rain.” Biff looked astern. On the southern horizon, he could make out huge thunderheads. “Was there a Kona wind when Huntington was lost?” “Yes. A big one.” “Then we’d better get out of here fast. We’ll try to get back round Ka Lae. The Point ought to give us some protection.” There was no doubt now that a Kona wind was catching them. Biff changed course again. He headed Easy Action’s bow west by north. The wind rose rapidly. It whistled through the sails, making the rigging lines vibrate. The sea began kicking up. The wind drove Easy Action before it. The yawl heeled far over, its mainsail stretched taut on the starboard side. The yawl was fairly racing through the water. Suddenly they were struck by a torrential downpour. The rain hit the deck in drops as big as half-dollars. The sky had blackened. The shore was blanked out. Angry whitecaps dotted the water like blobs of cotton. Sailboat in heavy seas. “Take the tiller, Li,” Biff shouted above the roar of the wind and the pounding of the rain. “I’ve got to get the mainsail down.” Biff fought his way forward on the rain-slippery deck. He was pushed along by the driving wind. He reached the mainmast. Its lines were whipping against it, cracking like pistol shots. He loosened the mainsail halyard. The wind grabbed the mainsail. Biff struggled to pull it down. Suddenly there was a thunderous crack. The mainsail gave way, torn loose from its halyards. It stretched straight out like a flat, white canopy and flapped violently in the wind, which was now near gale force. There was no way to cut it loose. Biff let the line go. The jibsail was still holding. Turning, Biff felt the rain and salt spray beat against his face. He had to bend into a crouch to make any progress aft. The salt spray stung his eyes, nearly blinding him. Once he slipped and crashed to the deck. He could feel himself sliding toward the starboard gunnel, now nearly under water because the yawl had heeled over so far. A last-second grab at a mooring stanchion saved him from going overboard into the boiling sea. Biff pulled himself up slowly. He crawled on hands and knees and fell exhausted into the cockpit. For moments he lay there, gasping for breath. Then he saw the fear on Li’s face. Li held the tiller in a viselike grip. Biff rose. “I’ll take over,” he shouted. Li merely nodded his head in assent, glad to relinquish the wooden tiller handle. It was a fight to hold it steady. From forward, the boys heard another crack, sharp as a shotgun shot. “Jibsail’s given away,” Biff shouted. Now their only control of the yawl was by the mizzensail. It was behind them, making control of the boat most difficult. “If the mizzen goes,” Biff yelled, “we’re done for!” Just as he spoke the words, the mizzen gave way, torn from its halyard by a sudden driving gust. At the same moment, the boys heard a sound that sent an even greater chill of fear racing up and down their spines. It was the roar of an angry surf pounding the shore. They were being swept ashore. The boat would be dashed to bits. They would be flung on razor-sharp coral! “Get forward, Li,” Biff shouted. “Let the anchor go!” The sound of the pounding surf came nearer. Biff prayed that the anchor would grab and hold. He fought the tiller, trying to keep the yawl from being swept ashore broadside. Then, suddenly, the yawl was lifted high on the crest of a roller, as if handled by a giant. When it crashed down into a churning trough of water, Biff’s grasp on the tiller was torn loose. He felt himself being hurled through the air. Then he struck the water with a thud, knocking the wind from his lungs. Biff felt himself go under. Then he was lifted by another roller. Surfacing, he gasped for air. His arms flailed the water. The waves tossed him about, carrying him nearer and nearer the shore. Biff struggled to ride the waves, to keep control of his body so that he might avoid being dashed on the shore. He was hoping against hope that this would be a sand, not coral beach. After a seemingly endless struggle, Biff, kicking out, felt his feet touch bottom. Nothing had ever felt so good before. His feet were touching a powdery sand, now roiled up, but at least, it wasn’t a coral bottom. Biff found himself in waist-deep water. The shoreline was only a few feet in front of him. He staggered through the surf, reached the black sand beach, and threw himself face down on the sand. Every muscle in his body felt as if it had been pounded, pummeled, pulled, and strained. Then he thought of Li. He turned over and rose to his knees. He saw the Easy Action. Her anchor had caught and held. She was pounding up and down on the rough waters, but Biff could see that she was holding. But where was Li? Biff stood up. He went to the water’s edge. He walked out until the water raced around his knees. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he shouted: “Li! Li!” There was no answer. |
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