Satisfied with Rob’s progress in the learning to enjoy life department, Grandpa decided to allow himself a brief sabbatical from Rob’s tutoring to give himself a chance to catch up on a little of the latest island gossip, and a lot of lucky hands of poker.
Grandpa rigged kerosene torches under the palms in order to provide him and his drinking and card playing buddies enough light to pour their rum and Cokes by, and determine which of them held the winning hand for the nickel kitty and the shots of rum for which they played.
Sans the fully operational power plant, Rob and Alex were creating a fair amount of wattage by themselves. In fact, there was enough current in the air to make one think that they were sitting on a boat in the midst of a storm with Saint Elmo’s Fire2* crackling away in the rigging.
And Grandma, well she was basking in the knowledge that once again her instincts about love had been on target, and relieved to know that her matchmaking skills had not grown rusty from a lack of suitable candidates. In her eyes, Rob’s unfortunate accident couldn’t have been more fortunate. As Grandma well knew, a little dose of crisis in one’s life is all it takes to recognize one’s true feelings that have been tucked away in some compartment for safe keeping in order to avoid the possibility of any self-inflicted disappointment, pain, or suffering.
Due to the fact that romance was in the air, the last thing on Rob’s mind at that moment was making sure the boat got launched before hurricane season. Rob was in love for the first time since Julie Anne, who was quickly fading into his subconscious memory like a pleasant dream which is not written down the moment one awakens – where the feeling remains but all the detail is missing. In fact, it was almost as though Rob was fully awake for the first time in his life instead of living in his dream world. All of his senses were working overtime, and as far as the island black-out went, Rob wasn’t in the least bit worried about the lack of light. He didn’t need light to see where he was going since the glow of love radiated like a beacon all around he and Alex.
The only unfortunate thing was that there wasn’t a great deal of privacy to be found from prying eyes and curious ears in their little boatyard. Not to mention the fact that there was so much sexual tension brewing between Rob and Alex, that Alex was somewhat concerned they might actually knock the boat right off the rollers used to haul her out. So they decided it best to pack up their dinghy with numerous beach blankets and a bottle of French wine, and head up the coast one evening to the deserted beach by the power plant in Cole flay. Normally, with the island’s power plant fully opera-tional, one could barely hear oneself think on this stretch of beach so poorly chosen as the location of the power station.
But, with the recent black-out, the beach was as quiet as a downwind sail, and as deserted as the local church on Saturday night – the only sound being that of the gentle waves of the leeward side lapping on the shore.
Upon their arrival at their clandestine tryst in the deserted bay, Rob and Alex pulled the dinghy ashore making certain it was clear of the high tide mark, then Alex proceeded to spread the blankets on the sand while Rob opened their bottle of wine. The time they had spent in jail together, unable to act upon their attraction to one another, not to mention the last month or so of their impassioned gender war, had created a combustible situation, and it was more than obvious to both of them that it wasn’t going to take getting struck by lightening to ignite the explosion. In fact, before Alex had even finished straightening the blankets, Rob gave into his rising testosterone and swept her right off her feet. Within seconds, they were laying in the sand totally ignoring the fact that they had even brought the blankets in the first place. This time Rob didn’t give Alex a chance to initiate the kiss. For the first time since Alex could remember, she melted into his arms like ice cream on a warm summer’s day, realizing how good it felt to let someone past her wall of steel. However, as much as she desired him she was still nervous as hell. After all, it had been years since she’d made love to someone she cared about – not since she placed her misguided faith in Michael.
As Rob undressed her, Alex, started to giggle like a school girl, and remembering her father’s good advise with regard to rail travel – decided that it was wisest to add a little more coal to the fire and make the train a little harder to catch, in order that Rob would appreciate the ride that much more. Without warning, Alex jumped up and ran into the ocean – daring Rob to come and get her. Within seconds, Rob had stripped down to his bare essentials and was splashing into the water after her.
“Now this is what life in Paradise is supposed to be like,” said Rob taking her in his arms and kissing her in a passionate embrace that even Alex could not resist.
To Alex it felt more like Heaven than Paradise as they finally allowed themselves to be lost in the pleasures of the moment. Together they fell onto the shore, and there, with the warm waves lapping over them, they made slow passionate love. Either she’d forgotten what it felt like or Alex had never been with a man as sensitive and caring as Rob. She didn’t know that it could feel so safe, yet at the same time, exciting. Rob kissed her gently, and then deeply as he made love to her. His body felt amazing against hers, and the feel of him deep inside her drove to climax over and over again – something she’d always found to be a challenge with other men. Like most women, she’d often pretended just to avoid hurting her partner’s manhood.
Unbeknownst to them, two Frenchmen sat watching all the while from the tree-line – smoking cigarettes and enjoying the show. Rob and Alex were well into their lovemaking when they heard the sound of a dinghy engine being started a few yards down the beach. Caught by surprise that they were obviously not alone, the unsuspecting couple turned to find the two men absconding with their only means of transportation.
“HEY! WAIT!” shouted Rob, as the dinghy sped by them at a safe distance. “Nagez bien,” (“Have a nice swim.”) chortled the Frenchman in the bow, waving as he passed.
“Reviens iu, abruti!” (“Come back here you shit-heads!”), screamed Alex in her worst French, angrily cursing herself and hitting the sand in frustration for being so stupid as to not pay closer attention during ‘dinghy season.3* “Damn Frogs!4** I should know better,” shouted Alex as she watched the two thieves round the point with the Island Fever’s rubber Zodiac, headed South to the lagoon and on to the French side – only to be deflated and stowed away in some French boat heading northeast for the Med.
It wasn’t until they looked around that they suddenly realized – not only had the low-lifes stolen their dinghy and engine, but they had also pilfered their clothes and blankets as a sick joke. So much for the consummation of their blessed union in Paradise, since poor Rob had yet to even reach climax. “DAMN!” shouted Rob. “Couldn’t they at least have had the decency to let me come?! I hope you had a good show you assholes!” he vented in the direction they had gone. Alex looked apologetically at Rob and gave him a hug, “Rob I’m so sorry… I should have known better.”
Suddenly, like Adam and Eve, they both became excruciatingly aware of the bare facts of their situation. How would they get back to the boat with nothing to wear. It was only a few minutes to the main road from which they could walk home, but without attire they were rapidly realizing that this was not an option that was high up on their list of options. In fact, Alex was starting to realize that it was going to be a rather long swim home since several large ledges of jagged lava rock separated Cole Bay from Simpson Bay making it impossible to traverse the water’s edge – especially if one was barefoot. For Alex it was a far more logical choice to brave the dark ocean than taking to the main road butt naked. Luckily, they had the current and tides with them but Alex was far more receptive to the thought of swimming the distance of several bays in the pitch dark than Rob, who had always heard the theory that fish feed at night, especially those large enough to make a meal of an unsuspecting swimmer. But there was no way that Rob was going to allow Alex to go alone, nor let her see what a chicken he really was, so he decided,
if he couldn’t appear as her savior, he could at least show her he was as brave as she was.
Unfortunately, the moon was just setting and due to the gathering clouds there were relatively few stars shining, not to mention the total absence of manmade light of any kind. In fact, it was hard to see the coastline due to the blackness of the water and the rocks. Much like the night of the Island Fever’s demise, it was as black as tar out there, leaving Rob with that ill sense in the pit of his stomach of impending doom. All he could hear above his pounding heart was the “Jaws” theme reverberating in his skull.
Forty minutes after they swam around the power plant point, Rob, totally breathless and exhausted, crawled up on Simpson Bay Beach like some amphibious creature from the Black Lagoon. Alex who had reached the shore ahead of him was already wrapped in a towel from the Island Fever and was compassionately offering Rob one, since his fear of trolling had shriveled his manhood to the size of a stunted green fig.5*
What luck, now Rob was out an additional five grand for a new dinghy since no marine insurance ever covered those magical rubber rafts that had the disappearing act down better than even David Copperfield. Alex felt so guilty about her carelessness in leaving the Zodiac unattended that she offered to forgo several month’s wages in consideration of Rob’s loss. Of course, Rob wouldn’t hear of it even though he was starting to panic once again about finances, since he was just about clean out of money. Boy had the euphoria been short lived. Not even the glow of new found love was helping to dim this newest dilemma of where he was going to find the money for a new dinghy. The only consolation was that since the boat was not in the water at present, a dinghy was not an immediate necessity – at least not until they got the Island Fever floating again.
1*Cistern – A tank for storing rain water in the islands that is usually in the foundation of any given structure, and serves as their back-up water supply – allowing one to avoid relying on the island water plant. Since the system works oft the principle – the roof catches the rain and everything else which happens to fall on it or in its gutters and thus runs into the storage tank under the house, one has to get used to the fact that the bottom foot or so of the cistern contains a sludge comprised of island dust, insecticide, palm fronds, decaying insects, and geckos who were unlucky enough to be caught unaware sunning themselves on the roof just prior to an island downpour.
2*SAINT ELMO’S FIRE – An impressive glowing electrical discharge seen at the tips of pointed objects such as… a ship’s mast which is stimulated by the negative charge of the storm’s intercourse with the positive charge of the pointed object, and unjustly named after St. Erasmus, the patron saint of sailors.
3*DINGHY SEASON – That time of the year in the Caribbean, between May and July, when the boats headed to the Mediterranean – especially the French, find it game to commandeer another boat’s dinghy, since there is little chance of being caught once one’s vessel is well on its way to another continent.
4**FROGS – The French are referred to in this part of the world as ‘frogs’ by all that are not of continental French origin.
5*FIG – Figs in the islands are those wonderfully sweet, but miniature, finger bananas that at best reach three inches long when fully ripe.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dinghy Fever
“First you have to row a little boat.”
Richard Bode
As Rob’s luck would have it seemed that it was dinghy season in more ways than one. Not only was there an island wide epidemic of missing dinghies, but it was also fast approaching that time of the year known as ‘Dengue Season.’ Hurricane season it seemed had started early and the intermittent rain showers had left more than a little fresh water standing on the island in such receptacles as old tires, abandoned plumbing fixtures, and the leftover tops of those 55 gallon drums. Leaving of course, numerous havens in which mosquito larva could breed – especially the strain of mosquito known to carry Dengue Fever.1*
Dengue epidemics, although not a yearly occurrence, had hit the island enough years in the past to make most of the local population immune to the most common strain – a three on the scale of four. Luckily, Alex fell into this statistic having already suffered the excruciating symptoms her first year in St. Kitts.
However, Rob was new blood on the island and unfortunately every mosquito in town had gotten wind of the news. Rob awoke the morning after his swim to a body that felt as if he’d been stoned, (with rocks – not weed), since his symptoms included chills, body aches, and rapidly spiking fever. His bones, his muscles, and even his skin hurt. In fact, every square inch of his body was in excruciating pain. Rob realized that he wasn’t in the best physical condition but he couldn’t even imagine how his swim could have made him feel so incredibly retched.
Alex was beginning to worry that he had suffered from hypothermia due to his extended stay in the water the prior evening, even if it was a relative eighty degrees. It wasn’t until Rob described the unbearable post-orbital pain behind his eyes that Alex diagnosed the source of his misery. She barely had the heart to tell him that he faced ten more days of sheer agony. And, unlike malaria, for which one could take Quinine to quell the raging symptoms and receive at least moderate relief, there was no prescribed drug aside from painkillers Tylenol or codeine that could assist in relieving the pain or curtailing the term of ones suffering for even a day.
Upon learning of Rob’s latest malady, Grandma took pity on him and sacrificed her bed in lieu of the sofa to save Rob the added agony of lying in his sweltering bunk on the Island Fever during the midday sun. Although grateful if ever a man was to receive such loving care from two women at once, Rob, whose fever rose daily like clockwork to 104 degrees by the time the sun was high over the yardarm, was in such a delirious state that the last thing he wanted were two doting women hovering over him every minute.
Realizing this, and knowing what difficult patients men could be, Grandma hoped to save Rob and Alex’s newly budding relationship from the test of Rob’s illness. So, she suggested that Alex drive into town to buy the largest bottle of Tylenol she could find. Alex left with hopes of also returning with something resembling ice in order to help cool Rob’s raging fever. But, due to the continuing power outage, she was referred to the French side for the frozen substance which had suddenly become the most valuable commodity on the island. Some three hours later, after trying every marche and bistro in French St. Martin, Alex had given up the quest. It seemed that due to the shortage on the Dutch side there had been a run on the ice plant on the French side. That precious frozen gold had become as scarce and as valuable as a snowball in hell. As a last resort, Alex collected various roots, leaves, and fruits for Grandma, to enable her to work her magic, since she had nursed thirteen children through their childhood years with hardly any help from modem conventional medicine.
In fact, Grandma took to caring for Rob as if he were one of her own. This was what she did best, since her only job in life had been taking care of others. It had been a while since any patients had been in need of her services so Grandma took to her duties as Rob’s nurse as if it were her life’s calling.
Once Alex had returned and was secure in the fact that Rob was in good hands, she felt she should at least make an attempt to search for the Island Fever’s missing tender which had been so appropriately named, ‘Dinghy Fever.’ To alleviate her own guilt, Alex borrowed a fifteen foot Boston Whaler from her friend’s marine store, Island Waterworld, and set off with Raymond across Simpson Bay Lagoon to the French side, out through the channel to Bale de Marigot in search of suspicious French boats. Of course, Alex truly believed that by now the thieves were well on their way across the Atlantic Ocean headed for safe territory, but she felt it her duty to at least try. Even if it were still somewhere on the island, she figured that all traces of the name and registration had been removed, which would make it tough to prove ownership. Several turns around Marigot Bay and the town dock proved fruitless, so Alex decided to mak
e an attempt at the next several bays to the northeast. As the little Whaler rounded the point at Friar’s Bay and headed into Grand Case, Alex couldn’t believe her eyes. There was the Dinghy Fever, tied under the bridge deck of a French proa.2*
Slowly, Alex circled around dead ahead of the proa, cut her engine, and allowed the Whaler to drift down on the proa’s anchor-line. Quietly, Alex and Raymond managed to maneuver the Whaler between the hulls of the Proa allowing Alex to reach up and cut the painter (bow line) to the Zodiac. As she had suspected, the name and registration number had already been scraped off of the rubber hull and wood transom, but there was no mistaking the makeshift hand-pull on the engine that Alex had fashioned from a piece of driftwood while she waited for a new handle to arrive from the states. Carefully, Alex and Raymond maneuvered the two boats between the hulls and out the back, or front of the boat depending of course, on which way you looked at it. They had almost made a clean getaway when a sudden gust of wind hit the proa on its beam and spun it around on its mooring, bashing the main hull into the Whaler with a loud thump. Realizing her dilemma, Alex quickly lashed the Zodiac onto the back of the Whaler as Raymond started the getaway car – too late, they were caught in the act of steeling back their own dinghy as two irate and indignant Frenchmen burst out of the main hull of the Proa. One of the Frogs – packing a flare gun, proceeded to unload a white phosphorous flare just inches above Alex’s head. Within seconds, the two Frenchmen had radioed another boat for help and before Alex realized what was happening there were several French guys from the monohull next to the proa piling into their rubber Zodiac in hot pursuit as Alex and Raymond fled the scene as fast as their seventy-five horsepower Yamaha would carry them towing the little Dinghy Fever.
West of the Quator Page 26
