skin, blond of hair and blue-eyed-a hard combination to fake if you are

trying to blend in with the locals.

Reykjavik was a city of low buildings and brightly painted houses

that stood out against the snow-covered terrain like ornaments on a

Christmas tree. The tallest building, Hallgrimskirkja Church, was but a

few stories high, and the plumes of steam from the geothermal springs in

the area that warmed the houses and buildings gave the landscape a surreal

appearance. The smell of hydrogen sulfide from the springs tainted

the air with a slight rotten-egg odor.

Reykjavik was clustered around the year-round ice-free port that

housed the fishing fleet, the mainstay of Iceland's economy. And, in contrast

to the country's name, the winter temperature in the city was actually

milder than New York City's. The citizens of Iceland are both

extremely healthy and seemingly happy. The happiness can be traced to

a positive state of mind; the health, to the abundance of local hot springs

pools.

The Arab summit meetings were taking place at the Hofoi, the large

house now used for city functions that had also been the site of a 1986

meeting between Mikhail Gorbachev and Ronald Reagan. Hofoi was

less than a mile from where the Oregon was docked, a convenience that

made security an easier affair.

Qatar had used the Corporation in the past-and they enjoyed a

mutual relationship of high regard.

OUT OF RESPECT for the Christian participants of the summit, no

meetings had been scheduled for Christmas day, so belowdecks in the

galley of the Oregon a trio of chefs was putting the finishing touches on

the coming feast. The main course was in the oven-twelve large turduckens.

The turduckens were a treat to the crew-they were small

SACRED STONE 27

deboned chickens stuffed with cornmeal and sage stuffing, inserted into

deboned ducks with a thinner layer of spice bread stuffing, which were

then stuffed inside large deboned turkeys that had been lined with an

oyster and chestnut stuffing. When the carcasses were carved, the slices

would reveal a trio of meats.

Relish trays were already on the tables: iced carrots, celery, scallions,

radishes and julienne zucchini. There were bowls of nuts, fruits,

and cheese and crackers. Trays of crab claws, raw oysters and lobster

chunks. Three kinds of soup; Waldorf, green and gelatin salads; a fish

course; a cheese course; mince, pumpkin, apple and berry pies; wine; port;

liqueurs and Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee.

None of the crew would leave hungry.

In his opulent stateroom Juan Cabrillo toweled his wet hair, then

shaved and splashed his cheeks with bay rum aftershave. His blond crew

cut required little maintenance, but in the last few weeks he had grown

a goatee, which he now carefully trimmed with a set of stainless steel

scissors. Satisfied with his work, he stared in the mirror and smiled. He

looked good-rested, healthy, and content.

Walking into the main cabin he selected a starched white shirt, a