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The main question, however, remained unanswered. Would the islands still be inhabitable? Would they be safe? Our progress was painfully slow that morning. The sea was calm. The storm of the day before had dissipated. We couldn't expect an early resolution to this vital concern. A half an hour later the sun emerged behind us. It flooded the sea with its mellow light. Now the two humps stood out somewhat brighter, but not bigger.
Since we were up now, and wide-awake, Igor announced that it should be breakfast time. Well, we agreed. This was probably the earliest breakfast we'd had on our entire voyage. It seemed fitting though, to celebrate this beginning of a new epoch with a hearty meal in the freshness of dawn, immersed in the bright morning sunshine of a new day. We were celebrating our second arrival in paradise!
In tune with such a momentous occasion, we didn't just have breakfast, but a feast, complete with Caviar, wine, and hugging one another out of sheer excitement, gazing through binoculars....
Now and then, one or the other would scan the islands for signs of life. Still, it wasn't until many hours had past that we could reasonably assume that the islands had not been destroyed. Igor said at one point he was sure he saw sugar cane fields.
The discovery that the islands were safe gave rise to more jubilation. Lunch became a feast, with cheese, home made bread and all sorts of fancy trimmings. All the 'good' stuff that we had saved was brought out. At least this one thing was certain, regardless of what the state of the world was, there was a refuge left that had been spared the torch of destruction.
The sun stood already low when we passed through the narrow channel flanked by Maui, Molokai, and Lanai at the far side. And under the last rays of the setting sun we laid anchor into the coral near Papakeea. The greatest journey in our life was over! We had come full circle. We were back where we had started out on one last desperate mission that had accomplished nothing for humanity. Only we, ourselves, became greatly enriched by it.
Igor volunteered to stay on board while Jennie and I paddled our rubber dinghy to shore to investigate. We encountered a few people on the beach. They didn't seem to take note of us. Our next task was to determine if McTaggert's apartment was still ours. Jennie decided to row the dinghy back away from shore, after I disembarked, in order to keep it safe. It turned out that this had been unnecessary. Not a thing had changed on the island as far as I could make out. The people I met were as friendly, or as grumpy, as they had always been. Our apartment was still ours. A musty odor pervaded its stale air. The pound cake that we left on the table had dried and become moldy. The main thing was that the apartment hadn't been taken over by hoards of refugees.
How lucky I felt that we had this lovely place to come back to. I ran back to the beach as fast as I could. Jennie's face lit up when I told her.
We traded places. Then we rowed back together to Igor and set sail for Lahina harbor.
It was already dark when we arrived, but not dark enough for us to realize that all the docking spaces were taken. There were boats everywhere. After much looking around, asking questions and some begging, we were given permission by a few boat owners to tie the Mary Q up in front of their jetties, effectively blocking everyone's exit. The Harbormaster didn't like the idea. We pleaded with him to let us stay, or to find us a better spot. We even offered to pay, and pay him well. He just laughed, in an unkind way. He told us to keep the money. He said it isn't worth the paper it was printed on. Grudgingly, though, he allowed us to stay.
After we left his office, Jennie suggested that I should have telephoned home. "If Frank and Melanie are alive, they would be at your place in Denver," she said to me, "wouldn't they? At the very least they would have left a message on your phone recorder."
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