4*BROAD REACH — Sailing off the wind or with the wind on the rear quarter aft of the beam, which is the perpendicular line off the side of a boat.
5*MOONBOW – A rainbow seen only at night with a full moon – a phenomenon of nature almost as rare as a green flash.6**
6**GREEN FLASH — Now a ‘green flash’probably requires some explanation for the non-sailor. For that matter, it is probably safe to say that most sailors have never witnessed a true green flash since it is visible at sunset under only the most optimum conditions. Yes, many a tourist and sailor alike have sat in bars at sunset drinking to that elusive little flash of green that you may catch a fleeting glimpse of as that last little piece of sun dips below the horizon. But then again who’s to say whether they’re really seeing a true green flash or just viewing the last of the sunset through an inclined margarita glass.
7***MONTSERRAT – A little known and sparsely inhabited island which was decimated by hurricane Hugo in ‘89 and then finished off by the volcano, Galways Soufriére, some years later. Boats from Nevis had gone to save the island’s livestock but had capsized and sunk on the way back fully loaded with cattle, goats, and sheep. The men were saved and managed to return with another boat to save the poor struggling beasts, however, upon arriving they found only the remains of a shark feast. This island is best know amongst the record industry for its now deceased recording studio, which was used over the years by many a well known musician.
8****NEVIS – A sleepy little volcanic island with its head, both literally and figuratively, in the clouds – today relying solely on tourism and its one major resort which employs nearly half the islands natives. Dominated by the island of St. Kitts as a British federation for more than a century and a half, the island formally built its wealth, as did St. Kitts, on the labor of African slaves who toiled in the sugar cane fields – later being discovered by the British elite in 1778, thanks to its thermal baths and The Bath Hotel, now closed for years, which was opened as a retreat for the rich and famous. The last few years there have been rumblings of dissension and succession for its independence from its neighboring St. Kitts.
9*****SAINT BARTH – or Saint Barthelemy, is an island which Columbus named after his brother, but which is better known as St. Barth by the jet set and wealthy escapists – the original of which were none other than the Rockefellers and the Rothchilds. This was one island that had never had to rely on fishing and agriculture for its survival. It had simply thrived over the centuries from the trade of goods and contraband through its port, starting with the French buccaneers who for centuries dealt in stolen and captured booty; and then run by frugal Swedes for a hundred years or more who finally gave up and sold it to the French for about the equivalent of $60,000 U.S. – the likely cost today of a two week stay at one of the islands many exclusive guest houses. Not much has changed on the island over the years except the faces of the new influx of pirates, their stripes, and the contraband. Today and for much of the last century, St. Barth has been a center for the trade of spirits in this part of the Caribbean – not referencing any of my relations here on ‘The Other Side,’ but the quite profitable and plentiful liquor trade through their duty free port. I have always found St. Barth to be not only a beautiful island, but a unique gem-quite unlike the rest of the Caribbean due to its restricted policy on immigration to the island leaving it void of the true native West Indian culture – which is neither good nor bad, just simply-different.
10*BARRACUDA — Chances are it was the former of these two likelihoods since ‘cuda,’ as we call them in the islands, are known to be vision impaired at any distance between two and twenty feet. So, given that these prehistoric looking creatures, blessed with ample rows of needle-like teeth, are not in the habit of wearing bifocals, they tend to mistake things like divers’ watches and sparkling objects on the surface for an easy meal. There is nothing quite like the rush one experiences while diving when you find yourself suddenly eye to eye with a barracuda who has mistaken your silver regulator for Charley Tuna.
11*SHILL – One acting as a decoy, especially for a cheater.
CHAPTER TEN
Some Otters Don’t Swim
“From a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back.
That is the point that must be reached/”
Frank Kafka
Even though he appreciated the quaint rural countryside they were touring on St. Barth, Rob’s mind was busy touring a slightly less tranquil expedition regarding his and Sydney’s future.
“What was I thinking,” thought Rob to himself as Sydney chirped away in poor Yugo’s ear about the beautiful scenery and the island’s charm. “I should have known that Sydney wasn’t cut out for this sort of life. Now I’m really going to have to pay the price. Not only am I going to have to pay off that diamond that that fish just ate for breakfast, but I’m going to have to buy her a new one,” mourned Rob silently. “Maybe she won’t know the difference between the real thing and a zircon. No, no, that’ll never work… Sydney can smell a diamond a mile away. That’s not even taking into consideration what it’s going to cost to appease her and make up for the last twenty-four hours, and the fact that I even bought the boat in the first place. What am I going to do now? She’s never going to give me the remaining ten weeks we agreed to get this venture up and running.”
Rob immediately realized the futility of their little sightseeing expedition, since he knew that between the Valium and the rum, Sydney would likely not even have any recall of the trip. But, he also knew that it was keeping her away from any more island shops until, luckily for him, they closed for their three hour lunch break at noon. As far as Rob was concerned, he was quite happy to extend the tour as long as possible, even to the point of paying Yugo off to take her around the island a second time since Sydney was so far gone that she wouldn’t even notice that they were passing the exact same terrain they had traversed earlier. Rob figured, that if he could stall until lunch, and keep her out of any retail establishments through the island’s siesta time, that he might be able to prevent another uncontrolled shopping spree. What he didn’t know, was that the restaurant had their own little boutique which conveniently stayed open during déjeuner (lunch) so that its patrons might leisurely shop while dining in their little beach-side bistro. To top it off, Rob’s plan was flawed by the fact that Sydney was getting quite ravenous since there was little left in her stomach from the day before other than the morning’s rum and the Valium. So, Yugo was instructed to find the most direct route to their rendezvous with the lobster du jour that awaited them at that infamous little beach cafe. Even the thought of eating was a bit much for Rob to stomach with the morning’s excitement, but then again that bottle of chardonnay sounded pretty good to him right about then, since he was in dire need of something to dull his racing mind.
“Your wish be my command lady,” said Yugo obligingly as he turned the van around and headed back over the road towards the airport and Bai de St. Jean. Now, the locals on St. Barth were fully aware that driving over the road along the hilltop overlooking the airport without watching for approaching aircraft was about as dangerous as crossing a railroad track with no warning signals, wearing blinders. Yugo, one of the few black men living on the island, who had been driving a taxi there for most of his life, knew all too well to look before crossing the approach to the runway, which was at the base of the fifty foot slope below the road. However, since Sydney was making such a racket in the seat behind him pointing out amazing points of interest along the way, Yugo was somewhat distracted from his driving and never even saw the fast approaching Air Guadeloupe, Twin Otter until it had bounced off the top of the van, leaving two rather large tire tracks embedded in the roof of his VW bus.
Due to the fact that the runway was not much longer than a football field, it was necessary that the plane make a touchdown directly at the base of the hill, or they would find the length of the runway insufficient to safely land the aircraft on dry land. Thanks to
the impediment of their approach by Yugo’s van, the Otter’s landing gear made contact with the runway just a split second too late, meaning that its available concrete was about to run out just short of its ability to bring this agile little craft to a halt before landing in the drink. Had they been shooting for a different kind of touchdown however, the Otter would have surely scored six points with an open field all the way to the end zone. So, Rob, Sydney, and Yugo watched helplessly from the hilltop above the airport as the Air Guadeloupe shuttle skidded to a stop in about four feet of sea water in the aquamarine bay of St. Jean (Baie de St. Jean), looking much like a toy airplane floating in a child’s swimming pool. Unfortunately, this was not the type of Otter which was equipped for swimming and it shortly ended up resting on the sandy bottom in waist deep water. Luckily, no one was hurt aside from a boobey bird that was lazily floating in the shallow water at the end of the runway. Strangely enough, the prospect of sailing that last fifteen miles to St. Maarten aboard the Island Fever was not looking so bad after all to a suddenly sobered Sydney.
By this point Rob knew that if he didn’t get Sydney to lunch, he would surely begin to regret it, so he slipped Yugo another twenty to get them to the restaurant as quickly as possible in hopes of distracting her from the day’s overwhelming events. The traditional spiny lobster dinner and a bottle of French chardonnay at the little beach bistro, which was nothing more than a wooden deck right on the sand in the middle of a spectacular beach, seemed to do the trick. Since they were only a few yards away from the end of the runway, they had afternoon ringside seats to view the removal of the plane’s passengers and their luggage from the bay. This spectacle was by now a pretty common occurrence on St. Barth, since at least one or two times a year some private pilot overshot the touchdown spot on the runway. As far as commercial aircraft went, this was a slightly unusual occurrence since the Twin Otter pilots were well seasoned bush pilots, quite used to challenging landing sites. Rob wondered if this fumbled touchdown would be written off to pilot err or Sydney interference.
Rob and Sydney sat and watched as the island emergency crew, evacuated the plane’s slightly shaken passengers into rubber dinghies and shuttled them and their luggage ashore as if it were the normal way in which to disembark the aircraft. Of course, Rob was trying hard to be sure that Sydney didn’t notice him catching a glimpse every now and then, of the topless women on the beach – a long-standing French tradition – so he tried hard to focus his attention on the rescue.
Back in Gustavia, Alex and Raymond were enjoying a ‘Cheeseburger in Paradise’ at Le Select’s hamburger shack and, although neither of them were drinkers, they had both already polished off their third Red Stripe (Jamaican beer). Raymond had spent the morning compiling his grocery list for St. Maarten and his upcoming charter menu, and Alex had spent the entire morning dealing with island bureaucracy. Having failed miserably at filing her police report for Sydney’s accident with the St. Barth police she had gone back to Jacques’ office to plead her case. He had found her recap of her conversation with the gendarmes quite hilarious and had quickly filled out an official report for her, hoping of course, to impress her with his ability to supersede their decision to close the case of the diamond eating, French barracuda.
While they were sitting there finishing off their last cold one, Yugo drove up in his dented mini bus looking about ten shades paler than he had when they had last seen him. He walked past them in a daze and headed straight for the bar downing two double shots of rum before joining them at the table with a beer. Of course, news travels fast on a small island, via the Coconut Telegraph,1* and Alex and Raymond had already heard about the Twin Otter’s attempted swim across Baie de St. Jean. The minute Alex saw Yugo drive up with a huge tire mark across the roof of his van she knew immediately what had caused the crash. Yugo was still shaking from the experience – more from the time spent with Sydney in the car than the actual accident itself.
“Remin’ me not to take any fares from you in de future,” Yugo said to Alex in his French Creole accent. “Words out, I don’t tink you be findin’ anyone to pick up your friends at de restaurant. You best be gettin’ a rental car and fetch dem yourself,” said Yugo. “Dat woman be dangerous. She talk more dan a gaggle of women on a church picnic,” lamented Yugo looking at his shinny new van with the roof caved in, and filled to the brim with packages and straw goods. “All mash up,” said Yugo shaking his head at the sight, “All mash up. It pains me to even tink abou’ pickin’ she back up.”
A waiter walked over and sat Yugo’s burger and fries in front of him as Alex sympathetically patted him on the back. She peeled off a hundred dollar bill and handed it to him. “Here’s your fee Yugo.
“But I not finish the trip for you.”
“That’s okay, you earned it,” answered Alex, “Raymond’ll help you unload the van and take the packages out to the boat. Sorry,” She said looking at him as if she wished she could somehow make it up to him. “I guess we’d better get a car,” sighed Alex to Raymond. “I’ll take care of it while you get the stuff onto the boat.”
“No problem,” answered Raymond. “Just tell me where you’d like me to put everything.
That was one question, Alex couldn’t answer – she just buried her face in her hands as if she’d possibly bitten off more than she was prepared for. “Would you mind dropping me at the airport when you’ve finished your lunch so I can pick up a car,” Alex asked Yugo cautiously expecting to be turned down.
“You, my dear lady, I take anywhere. She, be anoder story,” replied Yugo shaking his head.
Once she’d picked-up the rental car, Alex realized if she didn’t take a nap she would surely collapse before her date at five, so she climbed in the dinghy with Raymond and motored out to the boat for an hour na. This would allow the charter boats time to leave the island at three before moving the Island Fever on the dock. It would be tricky with the state of her engine, but Alex was skilled at wrangling those cats into doing what she wanted. Besides, being on the dock would make her life so much easier. Not only would it mean that she didn’t have to be Rob and Sydney caretaker, she would be able to avoid, at all costs, another traumatic dinghy ride with Sydney.
By the time Rob and Sydney had finished their two hour lunch, Sydney had emptied the restaurant’s little bikini shack, care of Rob’s charge card. So, with a full day of shopping under her belt, Sydney was in rare form and ready, to brave returning to the Island Fever, especially since Alex had promised that the boat would be on the dock when they arrived.
As much as Rob cringed when he signed the last credit card receipt, he was quite relieved to have gotten her smiling once again. “Thank God for clothing,” thought Rob. “It’s the only thing that seems to keep her happy. Even more than me it seems,” he said under his breath. “This may be a great way to appease her but it’s getting a bit expensive. When we shopped in the States it was on daddy’s plastic… now it’s on mine and I’m in no position to pay for new sail ties let alone a new wardrobe,” reasoned Rob. Why is it that money’s not an issue until there’s no more coming in. Now I know what my friends meant when they talked about the cost of marriage. And I thought dating was expensive. How am I ever going to keep this woman happy,” Rob asked himself. “It’s never crossed my mind before that I might not be able to afford a woman. Now I understand what Joey meant when he said he’d take a boat over a woman any day when it came to high maintenance. And I thought the Island Fever was expensive,” he grumbled to himself, as he made the third trip with packages from the boutique to the rental car – driven by Alex, which left Rob wondering what had happened to Yugo.
Alex’s heart sunk when she saw Sydney climb into the car with even more packages – quite content and ready to continue on with their adventure aboard the Island Fever. She had expected Rob to load her onto the first flight to St. Maarten, however considering the earlier fiasco at the airport, she could see why Sydney had opted for the safer bet of sail over air travel. Alex steeled
herself for the on-onslaught as she drove Rob and Sydney back to town in silence – her and Rob were silent that is, since no one could get a word past Sydney who was still on her high – an uncontrolled shopping spree topped off by the bottle of chardonnay, the Valium, and the three petite punches. Alex deposited them at a little patisserie for café overlooking the harbor as she and Raymond weighed anchor and moved the Island Fever onto the dock. Luckily, there was enough space now that the charter boats were gone for her to come along side since the Island Fever’s sterns were so low and narrow as to make it a challenge to board when she was tied stern to the dock. Alex felt comfortable that she was not taking advantage of Jacque’s generosity to use the dock for the evening, since they would be gone early the next morning and would not interfere with the charter boats return at noon.
Once they had secured her dock lines, Alex took out the awning and tied it over the cockpit for a little afternoon shade and protection from the occasional rain cloud that might decide to blow over. She had done her duty for the day as Captain, as far as she was concerned, and she was determined to squeeze in another brief nap before she met Captain Jacques for a drink, so she left Rob and Sydney to fend for themselves. She was not their tour guide, nor Sydney’s valet so she felt no further responsibility for them that evening.
Just as she had finally drifted off to sleep in her port aft bunk the screaming started outside her bridge-deck3* portlight. At the sound of Sydney’s screams, Alex bolted upright in her bunk throwing open the deck hatch rather than wasting time climbing out of her bunk and up the through the companionway. In a second she was on deck trying to focus her eyes in the glare of the setting sun. Sydney was screeching at the top of her lungs as Rob dangled from the endof a sail cover on the main boom between the hulls – his legs trailing in the water. He had apparently been attempting to impress Sydney by putting on the sail covers and had forgotten to cleat in the main sheet to secure that the boom remained hard to starboard where he could reach it in order to lace up the cover. When it swung amidships from his body weight leaning against it, Rob went with it. It was actually quite a comical sight until she saw the cause for Sydney’s seemingly unwarranted alarm. Cutting through the water a few yards behind the boat was a dorsal fin headed straight for Rob. It seemed that the feeding frenzy was well underway on the discarded remains of the afternoon slaughter of cattle on the dock, and Rob was about to be dessert. Without saying a word, Alex jumped into the cockpit and started pulling on the starboard main sheet as hard as she could winching Rob in like wet laundry on an urban clothesline. By the time she had gotten him back to the hull, Raymond had emerged from his bunk in time to pull Rob back on board just as the five foot bull shark swam past between the hulls. Alex turned to assure Sydney that Rob was okay, only to find her passed out cold on the deck. Finally, for the first time that day, Sydney was quiet.
West of the Quator Page 14
