Report of the White Jade Buddha ( )

Log entry, the catch-scallet queen. Position 158 degrees west, 22 degrees 21 minutes north. Gyrocompas course 290. Wind fresh sky fair. Remarks cleared port of Honolulu at 3.30 AM without lights to avoid harbor and police officials.

Reason for secrecy, the report from the white jade Buddha. On the 13th day out of San Francisco with the constant trade still flowing in over the starboard quarter, the Scarlet Queen stood in through Kaiwi Channel, past Coco and Diamond Head, and eased into Honolulu Harbor.

I'd planned on finding Dokajaw Fort Street near the shopping district, where I could take on water and food stores in a hurry, pick up my payroll and instructions from Kang's Honolulu contact and head out.

But the section was jammed with merchant men, so we know as the past Sand Island under power, an inter-copelama basin where we tied up under the stern of an aging but busy victory ship. We'd noticed the big diesel yacht that had entered the basin in our wake, but we didn't pay any attention to it until it anchored just off our port beam and a dinghy

luster pulled up alongside. My chief mate, Red Gallagher, caught the hail. Oh boy, let's call it queen. Oh boy, the boat. What's your business? I'm going to have a cross one factory. I'm going to have a rocker hunger.

Do I have your permission to board? Not mine. How about yours, give it a? You say we are. What's that? Oh, seven quarantines. I didn't say so, but it'll do. Oh, then if Mohammed cannot come to the mountains, let them out and come to Muhammad talk English or cast off, what do you want?