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    quokka
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Frontier - 48. FR Chapter 48

In just one day, we managed to move the yacht a total of five metres, almost one quarter of the way to the water. It was very hard work, and we needed regular rest stops to get our strength back, with each pushing session lasting for twenty to thirty minutes. I knew we could do it. We had achieved so much already, with getting the yacht up onto the pipes, and I battled with fits of displeasure from the crew at the hard work, and tried to encourage them to look at what we were trying to achieve - to get off the island and back to Australia.

It took another five days to get the yacht to the water’s edge, as it took more and more effort to get the strength to keep pushing the yacht close to the ocean. We had been on the island for just over two weeks now, and my brothers were keen to avoid doing anymore hard work, so when I gave them the option of helping with the yacht or school work, they happily chose school work, which meant it was harder for the rest of us to push the yacht, but we eventually got there. As we laid the pipes under the keels underwater to give the last push to get the yacht floating again, we all cheered as she rose on the water.

Simon quickly retrieved the anchors and set them in place so the yacht wouldn’t drift away, and once the drums and containers were emptied of water and resealed, we began packing them into the forward bulkhead, with the drums at the front to cover the big hole and the smaller containers to fill in the rest of the space. When we had finished, Simon and I stared at it for a while.

“I do hope this works, or else we are in big trouble,” Simon said to me.

“I’m sure it will work. It was your brilliant idea” I responded with a big grin.

“I have been documenting our days with photos, using my phone camera, just in case someone doesn’t believe our story, and I have made a bit of a diary too, just to match with the photos,” Simon said to me.

“That’s good. I have been keeping a ship’s log as well, so between us both, we should have it all covered,” I replied, as we closed the hatch and locked it into place.

When we all sat down for dinner that night, everyone was very quiet, I guess because we knew that the next day we would be setting off for the Marshall Islands, with just an atlas and a compass as a guide, uncertain if we would even make it that far.

The following morning Simon and I were up at dawn. We pulled up the anchors and gave the yacht one final push to make sure it was free of the sand below. When we knew it was I let the yacht drift away from the beach a little way before getting Simon to set the anchors again. Once we had done this we began picking up the blocks of wood, steel pipes and steels rods, that we had used for moving the yacht, and we carried them to near where the yacht was first stranded. We piled them there in one neat stack before returning to the yacht.

Wading in the water we took a look at the bow of the yacht which we could see had dropped a little in the water, but the drums and containers were doing a great job of keeping it up. Once we were happy with the bulkhead, we climbed on board, raised the anchors, raised the mainsail and the jib, and set off away from Johnston Atoll, with Simon taking some final photos as we sailed off to the south west. With the motion of the boat, Finn and Toby soon appeared on the fly deck and looked around us.

“It is good that we are sailing again. Farewell Johnston Atoll, and good riddance,” Finn said out loud, and I just smiled.

In front of me I had the atlas and the compass, and I was hoping that I would be close enough to being accurate, so as to not miss the Marshall Islands. Once we had settled down, it was fairly smooth sailing for the first six hours of the journey. I was having a few difficulties, with the nose dropping down underwater if the waves started to get too big, but the buoyancy from the drums in the bulk head was doing its job, much to my relief.

At 1400 hours Simon arrived to take over at the helm, and we chatted for a while before I headed downstairs to get something to eat. The boys were in the study doing school work when I went to check on them. I was pleased that they were keeping up with their schooling. For the rest of the day we had good weather and seas, and after having six hours sleep, I headed to the main bridge at 2200 hours where I took over at the helm, and Simon headed downstairs.

With 16 hours passed since we had left Johnston Atoll, I was pleased at how well the journey had gone so far, and I was hoping that it would continue that way for the remainder of our journey. For the next 3¼ days Simon and I continued doing eight hour shifts as we continued to head in a south westerly direction. As day five of the journey arrived, I was now getting concerned that we had missed the Marshall Islands all together, but I decided that we should continue on. When Simon took over at the helm at 0600 on day six, I was really starting to get worried.

“I think we have missed the Marshall Islands all together. I’m going to go and have a look at the other atlas, and see if I can work out where we are,” I said to Simon as I walked over to the desk and sat down to study the second atlas. After about twenty minutes, I sighed loudly.

“So, Skipper, what is the verdict? Where the hell are we?” Simon asked from the helm.

“Well I think we have travelled a little south of where I thought, and missed everything all together. I think we have gone between Tuvalu to the south and Nauru to the north. I am hoping that some time tomorrow we will reach either Fiji if we have gone too south, or Vanuatu a little more to the west,” I replied.

“Well I hope they have the facilities to get the repairs that we need?” Simon stated.

“I’m sure they will, and if not we will at least be back in civilisation, so we will be able to… oh, I just realised something we have been missing for three weeks,” I replied.

“And our families will be worried that we have been lost at sea. We need to get to mobile phone coverage as soon as possible,” Simon added, and I nodded my head in agreement.

“I need to see if I can get that Sat phone working,” I said, as I headed over to the desk.

After some working on the sat phone, I announced that it was beyond my skills to get it fixed, and I put it back in the drawer, not happy that it wasn’t working. Finn and Toby had spent the past few days keeping my brothers busy with school work and they did a full clean of the whole inside of the yacht, as well as making all the meals for the whole crew. At 1400 hours I took over at the helm, with still no sign of land anywhere, and with no navigation, we were at great risk of running into a reef, rocks or land at night time.

I was thankful that this had not happened, especially when we had passed by the many Marshall Islands and the Tuvalu Islands, and as the sun began to set, and with no islands in sight, I moved down to the main bridge and settled down for then night of sailing ahead of me, feeling a little nervous that we could sail into a dangerous situation. About an hour after sunset, the wind picked up a bit, and the waves increased in size, and I hoped that the yacht would be able to handle the rougher weather, with the damage that it had sustained.

Simon arrived with my dinner at 1900 hours, and he stayed to chat while I ate. Simon expressed concerns that what had happened to us at Johnston Atoll could also happen again. I suggested that we should think positive, and hope that we would get to some land and civilisation safe and well and in one piece.

“That is easy for you to say that, Skipper, but I am the one that is going to be at the helm, as we get closer to land,” Simon said to me with a concerned look. He headed downstairs to his cabin for some more rest. When Simon took over at the helm at 2200 hours, he still didn’t look too happy, and I gave him a hug.

“Try not to think about it, Mate. We are close to civilisation. Just think on that as a positive, and nothing else, and everything will be good,” I said to Simon, as he took over at the helm.

After I had checked on my sleeping brothers, I grabbed a snack, before heading to my cabin to get some sleep, hoping the morning would bring us so good news.

When my alarm went off at 0540 hours the next morning, I lay in bed a few moments, to hear the sound of the yacht still sailing through the ocean, and I smiled knowing that we were still in one piece. I quickly showered and dressed, before heading up to the main bridge.

“Good morning, Si. How are things going?” I said to him cheerfully.

“Well, I am pleased that we didn’t run into anything,” Simon replied with a smile. I looked out in front of us to see another fine day for sailing.

“Ok, I am heading up, to take over from the fly bridge,” I said with a smile.

Once we had changed over, I scanned the horizon, and I wasn’t sure if I could see something or if it was a mirage. After a few minutes I decided that I was just seeing things. About half an hour later Simon arrived with some breakfast for me, which I happily accepted. Simon took the helm while I ate. Just as I finished my breakfast I scanned the horizon again. I pulled out the binoculars to get a clearer view, and I smiled.

“Land Ho,” I announced loudly, making Simon jump a little. After a few more moments of looking I passed the binoculars to Simon, so he could see. I picked up the two-way radio mic, and switched it over to “Intercom”.

“Attention, all crew. Land Ho,” I said into the mic which I heard echo below us. Moments later, Toby and Finn, plus Neale and Jedd appeared on the fly bridge, and Simon handed the binoculars over, so others could see. I suggested that all crew go and eat breakfast and clean up, and prepare to arrive at where ever we were.

“Simon, can you find the distress flag, and send it up the main mast please?” I asked my first mate, and he did as I asked. Less than an hour later there was a large boat approaching us. As it came closer, we could read Vanuatu Customs Service on the side as it slowed. I turned the yacht into the wind to reduce speed, while Simon began to pull the mainsail down.

“Ahoy, Last Frontier. Are you all ok,” came a voice over the loud speaker. I switched the two-way over to fly bridge loud speakers.

“We are all fine. We were in a gale force storm three weeks ago, and lost navigation and communications. We also became beached on an atoll that we believe was Johnston Atoll. We have six on board, and we are all well,” I replied.

“Stand by to be boarded for customs inspection,” the voice from the customs boat said, as it approached us. The lads grabbed the two ropes thrown to them. Once secured, three customs officers stepped onto the yacht, and over the next twenty minutes they did a thorough search of the yacht. Simon wasn’t too pleased that he had to give up all of the fruit trees that he had bought from Honolulu, but he was allowed to keep the hydroponic garden, as long as it stayed on board.

We were given clearance to land on the main island of Vanuatu, and given the address and phone number of the main marine repair and supplies company. Starting up the engines, we followed the customs vessel to the main wharf, and we moored at the main jetty. Simon by now was on the telephone to his grandfather, to let him know that we were alive and well, and just as I shut off the engines, my mobile phone rang. The caller ID said it was Gramps.

“Hello, Gramps, how are you?” I said as I answered the phone.

“I am good. I am in the same room as Isaac, and I have just heard him talking to Simon, and that you are in Vanuatu at the moment,” Gramps replied. We chatted for nearly twenty minutes. When I had finished talking to Gramps, I walked downstairs, and sat down in the saloon, where everyone else was gathered.

“So, what happens next, Skipper?” Finn asked me. I remained silent for a few moments to think about what needed to be done to fix the yacht.

“I guess it depends on how long it will take to fix the damage. If you want to go back home, I can organise and pay for tickets for you guys to head back to Western Australia, or you can stay and have a paid holiday here in Vanuatu,” I replied.

“We have both talked to our very relieved parents, and although they want us to come back home, we have told them we will stay with the yacht,” Toby said.

Just then there was a knock on the saloon door. Two men were standing at the doors, so I stood up and opened the saloon door.

“Good morning. We are from Port Vila Boatyard. A friend of mine is a customs officer and said that you may need our services,” one of the men said with a smile.

“Yes, we do. My name is Anton Hamilton, owner and skipper of the Last Frontier, and I have lightning damage to the main mast, the satellite system and communications have been virtually destroyed. You have also probably noticed we have a hulk head breach in the bow, and minor damage to the pontoons,” I replied.

“Are you the ones who disappeared three weeks ago, north of Hawaii?” the other man asked, and I smiled.

“Yes, that would be us. We were caught in a nasty gale force storm for three and a half days, then became beached at night on an Atoll, where we stayed for two weeks, before we worked a way to do enough repairs, and get ourselves unbeached, and sail here using just a school atlas and a compass,” I replied.

“Wow, that is quite a story. I think we need to let you know that word has got around the island about this trimaran yacht limping into Vanuatu. So, can I suggest that we get your yacht towed to our boatyard nearby, and get it under cover. Then we can start looking at getting this beautiful yacht fixed,” the first man said.

“We have engine power, so just point the way,” I informed the two men. Less than fifteen minutes later we were at the boatyard, and a yacht trolley was lowered into the water to lift the yacht out of the water. While this was happening Simon and the lads helped me to lower the mast. A tractor pulled the loaded yacht trolley into the shed.

“I think we may be in for a media storm, so I am going to recommend that we get away before we get caught in it. So, pack a bag each with a week of clothes. Include your passports and do it quickly,” I announced to the crew, as I went online to search for flights out of Vanuatu. A few minutes later I had tickets for all of us for the 9.50am flight to Fiji, arriving just after 1.15pm, and leaving at 2.00pm for Wellington, arriving at 5.10pm.

Once I had done this I called for a taxi to collect us at the boatyard. When the crew all appeared with suitcases, I looked at my watch, which read 8.45am, so I headed to my cabin to quickly pack before leading the way off the yacht.

“I will leave my yacht in your care. We are going to do a bit of travelling to avoid the media. Here is my mobile number, and Simon my 1st mate’s mobile. Give us a call to let us know what the costs will be for the repairs,” I said to the two men, and I lead the crew away from the boatyard, to the front driveway.

The taxi arrived a few minutes later, and we were soon on our way to the airport. On the way I handed Simon a yellow envelope, and asked him to keep it safe. At the airport, we collected the tickets, and made our way to the departure lounge, arriving just twenty minutes before departure. Unbeknown to the crew, I had booked business class seats. They looked stunned when we were directed to near the front of the plane and took our seats for the nearly 3½ hour flight. I told the crew that we had another flight, leaving just 40 minutes after landing for Wellington, and that we would be going into hiding to avoid the media.

Once we had cleared customs at Wellington, we headed for the front door. I was already on the phone talking to someone, and Simon was looking at me in a confused way. I just smiled. As soon as we stepped out of the terminal, a minivan pulled up in front of us and tooted its horn, and stepping out of the driver’s seat was Sara.

“Did someone call for a chauffeur?’ she said with a big smile.

“Wow, hello Sara. Great to see you again,” Simon said surprised. Oscar climbed out of the front passenger door.

Once we had loaded up our luggage and climbed in, Sara drove us into the city, and we stopped at a food hall to have a meal together, even though we had meals on both flights. I noticed that Neale and Jedd were looking very tired, which was understandable, considering we had been travelling for just over six hours. During dinner, Sara handed me a large envelope.

“Everything is sorted. You are booked onto the last ferry, departing at departing at 8.30 tonight and arriving at midnight. You are booked in for two night’s accommodation in Picton. They have left the keys at reception, and they will have a hire car organised for you tomorrow lunch time,” Sara said to me.

“Thanks for doing that for us, Sara. You are a life saver,” I replied as I looked at the information that she had put together for us. Once we had finished eating, we said farewell to Sara and Oscar, and we had a little look around the city, before making our way down to the ferry terminal. Soon after we had boarded the ferry and found seats, Neale and Jedd fell asleep, and they slept for the whole journey across to Picton.

Copyright: June 2017. Preston Wigglesworth. All Rights Reserved
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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I think it's great that Anton and his crew finally got back to civilization and it was great that the boat yard guys were called by the customs officer. After hearing that the media would be hounding them to get their story about how they became missing for 3 weeks, Anton immediately made an announcement that the crew needed to get a suitcase packed for a week so that as soon as the yacht was safely in the boatyard and hidden away they would be leaving. I hope the repairs to the yacht won't cost more than Anton has in cash, especially since he's having to get away from the media. I think Anton's had enough of the media since they've done charters for the British actress Mimi Fenton and her family the crew has been trying to get away from the media circus. I hope the crew can relax and enjoy the rest after being stuck on the atoll for the two weeks, and then sailing for another week in order to get to civilization. I'm glad that they were able to let their families know that they were all okay. Another wonderful chapter with fast paced action, hope to see the next one very soon. Thanks for writing this great story. 

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Archimedes said, "Give me a lever long enough and a place to stand and I will move the world."

A 160' Blue Coast Sailing Yacht is a very big craft.  It's displacement is not available on the internet, but compared with other similar craft, it probably has a displacement of around 250 tons.  That's 500,000 pounds.  It is pretty fantastical to think that a 6 year old, an 8 year old and 4 17 year olds could provide enough muscle to move that craft 60 feet (20 m.) down a beach to float her.  Regardless of how many drums of water they tied to the levers!

Nevertheless - it is a great story!  I am enjoying every paragraph!

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