Chapter 8


Some days are just better than others. Bah Humbug. I went to bed, well more like fell into bed, feeling triumphant and jolly following our resounding victory at Sea Hunt. Woke up wondering which hippo’s butt I was sleeping in. Horrible taste in my mouth, sound air molecules whizzing by my head deafening, eye lids stuck shut. Silently, banging from wall to wall, clambered into SSS and drenched my face in cold water until eye glue dissolved. My God! The 12 watt light bulb was blinding so I turned it off and headed back to the bunk. Then I noticed I was in total agony. Actually agony does not adequately convey the feeling but it does begin to describe the title of the book that would be needed to simply catalog the sensations. I looked up and saw that we were sinking. At least my porthole was below water. Thankfully the pain would stop.


I lay in m bunk and felt sorry for all the other people who were sinking with me. I prayed fervently that Leigh and Misty would be saved. I even began to compose the song that would be sung around the world in remembrance of the mighty sinking of the Yankee Clipper that claimed “pops”. After about 13 bazillion years I rose from my death bed realizing we were not sinking and struggled up to the galley for coffee and “ugh” food. Took one sip of the normally fabulous coffee and was violently propelled down stairs to my cabin. There I spread the contents of my stomach into the sink. I guess I was supposed to read them like tea leaves. All I saw was the message spelled out “No more FREAKING RUM my Boyo!”
Mother Nature made sure that all body cavities were completely purged by kindly adding bone breaking cramps. After almost a lifetime of fun the game ended and the cabin began to visibly shrink. Fear compaction I fled up stairs topside. Of course I took the digi to ensure my violent demise would be recorded so my family would know how nobly I expired. In the face of imminent death certain unimportant details become supremely important. The mount on the mahogany handrail captivated me. This is where the small hand cannon is mounted when being used to repel pirates. We had seen the cannon used at St. Vincent in a mock pirate attack. We knew they we fake pirates because they had a flag saying fake pirate. They were really partying when they say us and decided to have a rag-up.


The cannon had a bore of about one inch and would have blown the arm off anyone foolish enough to actually load it with shot. Make a jolly lovely loud bang. This morning the echo, even 12 hours later and an island away, hurt my ears. I also saw people sleeping on deck. At the time I supposed they had been felled by demon drink. Later I discovered they had been sleeping on deck the every night. They were from Maine or New Hampshire and were just enjoying the air and the heat.
I then knew that I was not going to be in condition for any more fun so I determined to remain on board. The daily activities were always listed by Rusty on a board so we could see it right after breakfast. The captain and she would review and flesh out the details at “story time”. Notice that we were at Mayreau on Thanksgiving. And remember that it is not a British holiday. The captain did acknowledge the holiday and gave thanks that the death toll of September 11 was not as large as first expected. And he did wish upon bin Laden more suffering than “pops” was having.


Of all the islands we visited and/or stopped upon Mayreau was definitely the most primitive. Misty and Leigh determined to go to the beach and take the cultural walk. The beach looked peaceful and nice but I promised to stay away from demon and wanted to avoid temptation. Notice the ship has a launch leaving every 30 minutes almost all day. Us 64 passengers must have been a handful with our constant mind changes. The young man in the picture is the older brother of “Damit Dad”. After this burst of activity, lasting almost an hour, I retreated to my cabin to reattach my head. Slept from 10 am (10:00) until about 6 pm (18:00).
Bounded topside and had some snacks and coffee prior more ship exploration. Tried to get a good picture of the map showing the island chain we were cruising. This string of island is called the Grenadines. The longest sail was from Grenada to Bequia. Each cabin of the ship has the right to change the order of island stops. And within certain parameters even the islands visited. Captain said on some trips they stop at an island which has no anchorage so the passengers have to swim from the ship to the island which has only one bar and no inhabitants. I think the bar is called “Wet Bill Bar”. People try all manner of gambits trying to get to the bar without getting their money wet. No manner what setting I tried I could not get a clear sharp picture of the map.


Leigh and Misty took off to the “cultural walk” Mayreau has 274 people and 5 bars. Electricity is furnished by one gasoline powered generator. The bars are revenue generators so at night the houses are dark and even the telephones do not work. Leigh and Misty had to wait until the bars closed to try to call their husbands. I don’t know if they succeeded or not because of the events they related to me after they returned to the ship.
They walked from bar to bar in the dark and at each bar “just to say they did” they had a small drink. Neither one is a professional drinker so I expect they were fairly hammered after 5 bars in a few hours. At snacks that night they told me, taking turns, what had happened. After the walk they started back to the ship by themselves. They strayed off the beaten path and came upon what they called an altar. Sounded to me like a platform about 4 feet high. They said there were burnt sticks on the altar and something like blood. Somewhere or other they had heard that Voodoo was practiced on the island. The altar spooked them so they quickly found the path. As they were headed back to the path they heard a blood-curdling scream come from the direction of the altar. They think it was a human sacrifice taking place. I imagine they fairly flew back to the dock to catch the launch back to the ship. The next day they cross-examined one of the stewards about, who is from Mayreau, about the altar and human sacrifices. He denied any such practices on his island. He acted just dumbfounded enough to cause them to believe he was hiding something.
Leigh took a lot of pictures with her camera and I scanned some and included them into a separate folder at Webshots. She had someone else take this picture while they were on Mayreau. I know I am biased as their father but I do believe I have two of the finest looking daughters in North America. When their mother was Leigh’s age she was not nearly as trim and fit.


Another reason to go on this cruise again. No pictures of the water fall and black beach at St. Vincent and Mayreau. And no rum purchased on each island and brought back home.

Since I had a whole day on board I got to reviewing the trip to this point and just had to smile at the memory of our adventures in the airports on the way down to Grenada. Leigh almost had to strip at each security point in Houston, Miami, Puerto Rico and Grenada. Her feet seemed to set off the sensors. Like she was radio-active or something. In the same airports Misty would wander out of the secured areas to smoke and then blithely back into the boarding areas with absolutely no problems. In Miami I just knew she had been kidnapped because Leigh and I could not find her. We searched until our group was actually boarding the plane. I filed a report with airport security about Misty and we headed off to tell the boarding personnel we were not going when , lo and behold, Misty was standing in the boarding area impatiently waiting for us. She thought we had been kidnapped. She had no papers, no boarding pass, no luggage. Go figure. Like her sister said “Well whata you gonna do? She is flamboyant“.
I told Misty that she could not bring the shells or coral back to the states. We had all been told those items were illegal. She agreed to discard them. Back home in Houston she has them proudly displayed on her trophy shelf. Though baggage searches and custom declarations and she was not even slowed. Leigh was traveling almost nude just to get through security. Flamboyant!!!!!!

Click for pictures about Mayreau


Click for more pictures scanned from Leigh's camera





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