From Cape Town, fourteen pleasant days running with sails spread like giant butterfly wings before the southeast trades, brought us under the barren volcanic cliffs of St Helena Island's windward coast.

From a distance, this ten-kilometre-wide stone fortress, anchored in the middle of the South Atlantic, appears nearly as tall as it is wide. Closer in, I see the inhospitable coastal cliffs are capped by green mountain peaks; the whole standing out in sharp contrast to the blue-green sea breaking in a line of white spray against the rocky shore.

View over Jamestown

This was my second visit to the isolated colonial outpost of St. Helena. During my first circumnavigation in 1986, I had found my way to the island purely by celestial navigation, and feared I might sail right past the island in the middle of the night without even realising it.

On that passage the nightly appearance of Haley's Comet served as my celestial compass. Out here, a thousand miles west of the dark deserts of Namibia, far from the star-eclipsing lights of civilisation, the comet's frosty-white tail illuminated several degrees of arc across the southeastern sky.

Whenever a wind shift caused Atom's self-steering gear to deviate from its northwest course, the changed position of the comet viewed through the rigging made checking the compass redundant. Now, coming back to St. Helena twelve years later, I looked to the cold digits of an emotionless GPS satellite navigator as my guide, rather than comets and stars.

Cattle graze on St Helena's south coast.

When the customs launch approached, I was pleased to see my old friend Barry the harbourmaster was still on duty, cheerfully greeting new arrivals as he has done for over twenty years. Although the island I remembered and loved had not changed all that much, there were signs of progress.

A chief source of entertainment for the "Saints" (as the locals refer to themselves) was gone now that sailors can hire the new ferry launch instead of taking their own dinghies to the slippery wave-lashed landing steps. I noticed the number of automobiles now nearly equalled the 6,000-strong human population. The high prices made me so preoccupied by the need to save money that I refused to buy anything.

Beyond the quay, you enter Jamestown by passing over a dry moat and through an ancient-looking stone castle gateway. Both sides of the main street are lined with attractive buildings of 18th and 19th century design that make you feel like you stepped into a living museum. Opposite the St. James Anglican Church is a public garden where a plaque commemorates Joshua Slocum's visit on Spray in 1898 while making the world's first solo circumnavigation. At the back of the garden is Anne's Place, a popular open-air cafe, and long-time hangout for visiting sailors.

One of the cannon salvaged from a 15th century Indiaman in James Bay.

From Jamestown we ascended a single-lane road that clings to the cliffs like a mountain goat path as it winds its way up out of the valley. On a cliff-top above town, amid the scrub brush and cactus, lay the ruins of an old battery with several discarded canon from the foundries of 17th century England.

At higher altitudes, the scenery changes abruptly from arid wasteland to rolling green pastures and pine forest. We left most of the cars behind in Jamestown and now shared the road with a donkey carrying bundles of firewood, and a postman making deliveries by motorbike to each hidden farmhouse.

We passed the old Boer Cemetery near where the British army ran a prison camp with 6,000 prisoners during the Boer War. On a high ridge we looked far away over the folded landscape to the tiny settlement of Sandy Bay on the island's southeast coast. I looked up at the peak of Haley's Mount, named after the astronomer who had placed his observatory there in 1676, and remembered when I had spent an entire night up there tucked in my sleeping bag with eyes wide to the heavens, viewing his comet's latest reappearance.

Located in a shady hollow between these hills is the unmarked empty tomb of Napoleon Bonaparte who had lived six years in unhappy exile on the island after his defeat at Waterloo until his death in 1821.

The Emperor's residence at Longwood near the centre of the island is well maintained and holds many of Napoleon's personal items. His copper bathtub, the giant world globes where the brooding ex-emperor traced his former conquests, and the billiard table where his autopsy was performed, all give a vivid impression of his lonely imprisonment.

From the cool windy ridge where we stood, Pamela pointed below to Prosperous Bay Plain, one of the few pieces of level land on this corrugated island. "We would like to have an airport built down there so that at least we could have the ability to handle emergency medical evacuations," Pamela explained.

Despite the official government line that there is no land level enough on the island for an airport, I could see this was obviously a load of bollocks and that there must be other political reasons for not building one. It seems the British do not want to make the financial investment or perhaps they don't want to make it too easy for the Saints to get off the island for fear they might never come back. At present, their only connection to England is a fourteen-day passage on RMS St. Helena.

Another sore point with the islanders is Britain's refusal to grant them full UK citizenship. Instead, the Saints hold the restricted British Dependent Territories Passport, which severely limits their rights and access to Great Britain and other countries.

The island's sleepy colonial atmosphere is, however, gradually giving way to the modern world. Television was introduced three years ago and British Cable & Wireless is setting up Internet links to the island.

Since the Falklands War in 1983, Britain has started paying long-overdue attention to its South Atlantic colonies. Development projects are underway in the fisheries industry and a new harbour breakwater is planned. Tourism is on the increase with cruise ships now calling at the island several times a year.

The town vegetable market and grocery stores have a much larger selection than when I first came here and found it difficult to provision for the long passage to South America. While basic food items are available, it's still best to stock up on supplies in South Africa, where the prices are considerably lower. South African foods and wines also make excellent gifts when making friends on the island.

James Bay from atop Jacob's Ladder.

While we were on the island, a team of navy divers salvaged several bronze canon from the wreck of a Dutch East Indiaman that had been blown to bits in James Bay by two large Portuguese carracks in the 15th century.

This was one of many battles for control over the island between the contesting navies of the Portuguese, Dutch, and English, since its discovery by a Portuguese squadron returning from India in 1502. The local museum and library contain fascinating information about St. Helena's colourful history, including early settlements, naval battles, and several volumes detailing Napoleon's exile.

Perusing the island map available at the post office, you notice quaint names reminiscent of the English countryside, such as Button Up Corner, Half Tree Hollow, Distant Cottage, and Baptist Chapel. Each slight curve in the road, each country residence, and every historic and geographic feature are marked on the finely detailed topographic map.

Sailors often stay longer than expected on this enchanting island. I know I was reluctant to leave after one short month here, and Alex was openly disgusted with me for breaking up his latest romance with a pretty local girl by announcing our departure.

Our next stop en route to Brazil would be five sailing days to the northwest at Ascension Island. We now had an added official purpose to our voyage, as the post office had entrusted RMS Atom with a packet of Her Majesty's mail to deliver to Ascension.

Click here for parts 3 & 4.