The raft tacks west around the coast of Rum Cay.
Those aboard are able to get a closer look at the dark sea caves as they pass. The surfaces of the cave glitter with dried salt, which sets off the brown bodies of the bats that swirl around the entrance, even during the day. And the caves seem to go deeper into the island, although its depths can't be seen from the water.
As the raft rounds the western horn, a shipwreck of a cargo freighter is visible through the clear blue water, five fathoms deep. Reef sharks circle the wreck. The ship appears to be largely intact, although several barrels have spilled out of a hole in its side, which looks like it was torn open by the reef, judging by the damage to the coral.
And then the raft is heading along the island's southern coast, with forests approaching almost to the water line. Only a narrow line of sand separates the forest from the ocean until it suddenly widens into a larger beach dotted with palm frond huts, driftwood shacks, a makeshift jetty and dozens of tents and tarps. An old
longboat and a newer
tartane are tied up at the jetty.
"Aye, there she is, Port Nelson, by thunder," Scaggs rumbles happily.
Several campfires are going in front of the huts and there's the smell of cooking crab meat from a hut near the waterline, where several residents can be seen drinking and lounging in the shadows.