The Golden Reef

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The boat was a dark speck in the centre of a wide disc of pale blue water. The Pacific shimmered in the tropical sun, and the boat moved lazily on the gently undulating surface.

There was no apparent life in the boat. From a spar that served as a mast a weather-beaten sail hung limply in the windless air, forlorn as an old scarecrow. In the bows a canvas awning had been erected to provide some shelter from sun and rain; but this, like the sail, had become worn and bleached by exposure, crusted with dried salt and a little frayed at the edges. A rope trailed in the water like some slimy maritime growth, and over the starboard side an oar crutch dangled at the end of a lanyard.

On board the freighter Southern Queen, outward bound from Sydney, it was the second mate’s watch. Mr Watkins was a young man and an observant one; he was the first to notice the speck in the distance.

It was on the starboard bow and he moved at once to the extreme end of the starboard wing of the bridge and focused his binoculars on this piece of flotsam. The speck became larger; magnified by the powerful lenses it swam into his vision in clear and definite outline. Mr Watkins knew a ship’s lifeboat when he saw one, and this boat seemed to be in a bad way. Excited by the idea that he might be instrumental in the saving of human life, Mr Watkins would gladly have handled the operation entirely on his own. Reluctantly, however, he came to the conclusion that Captain Rogerson had better be informed.

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