Samuel Florman: The Aftermath

“The outside world!” he said excitedly to the committee when they were gathered together. They were not used to seeing the captain in such a state of animation. “The outside world!” he said again, gesturing with his arms in large circles. “A couple of those yachts from Madagascar are beautiful vessels that can sail anywhere, cross any ocean. They would have to be worked on a bit, fitted out properly and adequately supplied; but it’s almost as if they’ve been sent here to encourage us to go exploring.”

There followed a spirited discussion, which inevitably spilled out beyond the confines of the Coordinating Committee into the community at large. It was amazing how quickly the populace became swept up in a passion for journeys to distant places. The presence of the sailing yachts, plus the invasion of the pirates, had reawakened an interest in other parts of the globe, a curiosity that had been lying dormant since the Event. The earliest reconnaissance, on horseback, had convinced everyone that beyond the Ulundi Circle there was nothing but a burned-out wasteland. Additional exploration, also by horse, carried out by Inlanders determined to look for loved ones in the farthest reaches of South Africa, had revealed the same: total devastation everywhere.

But what about other continents? Theoretically, they were wastelands too. Yet how could one be sure? And no matter what their fate, no matter how bleak their condition, shouldn’t these survivors seek to determine it with their own eyes? Beyond concern for the present—possible fellow survivors, possible resources to be garnered—there was the future to be considered. It might be prudent to establish colonies on distant shores. Or, prudence be damned, there might be those who wanted to migrate to distant shores for whatever reason.

A few people urged that extended voyages be delayed until the boats could be fitted out with steam engines, and even more important, short-wave radios for keeping in touch with home base. But there were no prospects of having such equipment available for a long time—at least several months for the engines, and even by the most optimistic forecast, three years for radios.

Arguments for caution and delay were swept aside, and preparations for a lengthy voyage—perhaps two—were begun. The desire to explore is an endemic fever in the human spirit. The sight of those graceful yachts had set it raging.

When the pirate fleet finally set sail for home across the Mozambique Channel, the two most seaworthy yachts were left behind. Nobody claimed that they were the spoils of war. Rather, it seemed a fair trade—a couple of surplus boats in exchange for food, tools, and medical aid, for the necessities of life. The pirates, most of whom had given themselves up for lost, could scarcely believe their good fortune. Free, returning home, and accompanied by a foreign aid mission to boot; they were transformed magically from surly scoundrels to simple seamen, grinning from ear to ear. Nor did they seem to regret being free of their queen’s command.

Millie Fox and a few of her Peace Corps people decided to join the volunteer contingent going to Madagascar; and Millie, along with Captain Nordstrom and Pascal Ralaimongo, arranged a tentative schedule for ferrying people and materials back and forth between the two communities.

“Let’s keep in touch!” shouted my friend, Herb Green, as the last of the vessels hoisted anchor and turned seaward. Then muttering: “But don’t call me; I’ll call you.”

“Oh, come off it, Herb,” I said by way of reprimand. “If there are two human habitations left on the face of the earth, the least they can do is socialize.”

“Okay, if you say so,” he replied. “But no more invasions, please.”

No sooner had the sails disappeared over the horizon than attention turned in earnest to plans for global exploration. Work began on refitting the two sloops with new canvas, and on restoring their woodwork to its original strength and beauty. When the vessels were taken out for trial runs, large crowds gathered to marvel at their speed and grace skimming the waves.

The leaders of this enterprise were the Cortez brothers: Ernesto and Jose. The two young men were put in charge when their credentials were brought to the attention of the Coordinating Committee. The brothers come from Texas, where they were sometime students at the University of Texas at Austin. Their father was a leading petroleum engineer with one of the major oil companies. Ernesto and Jose are accomplished soccer players, skillful rock climbers, and as luck would have it, experienced yachtsmen. They have often sailed with friends up and down the Gulf of Mexico, and on several occasions across the Atlantic to the west coast of Africa. Nobody here can match their experience as oceangoing sailors. Many officers and crewmen of the Queen of Africa have spent years on the open sea, but not in sailboats. A number of Inlanders have sailed often in coastal waters, but never across an ocean. The Cortez brothers established their fitness for command not only by past reputation, but also by their knowledge as evinced in discussions with Captain Nordstrom and his officers, and by their masterful performance at the helm.

The captain had reservations based upon the youth of the two men, and also the fact that they were known to love a party. A reputation for high spirits was not necessarily a disqualification, but it did raise doubts in Nordstrom’s mind. He was reassured, however, when the young men’s father vouched for their conduct. They might play hard, said Mr. Cortez, but on a serious mission they were totally trustworthy.

“You know, Captain,” he added with a smile, “the family’s namesake, the renowned conquistador, Hernan Cortez, was said by his secretary to be haughty, mischievous and ‘much given to women.’ And just think of what he accomplished.”

“We are not looking for someone to conquer a Mexican empire,” Captain Nordstrom said, somewhat dourly. But he relented.

Ernesto and Jose were given their commands; but they were not given free rein in choosing routes of travel. Their first idea was to sail together around the world west to east, the two sloops lending support to each other as they checked out the continents one by one. But members of the Coordinating Committee resolved that the journeying should be limited to a year’s time, and given that constraint, a circumnavigation seemed overly ambitious.

“Magellan was the first one to do it in the world that was,” said Stephen Healey, “and it took him three years. Actually, I should say it took a few members of his crew three years. Magellan was killed in the Philippines, and most of the men died along the way.”

“But, sir,” Ernesto objected, “that was a long time ago.”

Jose pointed out that back in the 1960s Sir Francis Chichester had sailed around the world alone in the 55-foot Gipsy Moth IV, a sailing yacht about the same size as the two now in hand. He covered 14,100 miles from Plymouth, England, to Sydney, Australia, in 107 days; and after several weeks layover, continued back to Plymouth around Cape Horn, 15,517 miles, in another 119 days, making for a total time at sea of 226 days.

“And that was nothing,” Ernesto added. “There are now sailing ships that go round the world easily in seventy days. Or at least there were.”

“Let’s not be ridiculous,” Captain Nordstrom said impatiently. “We’re interested in exploration, not ocean racing. A swift trip across open water wouldn’t reveal much by way of useful information.”

It was finally decided that the purpose of the mission—learning about the state of the world—would best be served if the two sloops headed off in different directions. One boat would go west across the Atlantic to Brazil, then north to Florida, making as many stops in South and Central America as feasible, then back to the Atlantic coast of France, Spain, and Portugal, returning to home base along the west coast of Africa. If time and tide allowed, there could also be a visit to England and a short sortie into the Mediterranean. When someone questioned whether such an itinerary wasn’t too much to tackle, Mr. Cortez Senior observed that Columbus, on his first voyage, had crossed from the Canary Islands to landfall in the Caribbean in just five weeks and had returned despite severe storms in less than seven.