TALES FROM THE CARIBBEAN

Dave (everybody called him Shark Boy) and the hungry monk were motoring Dream Weaver toward the place on Lovango’s coast where they could dock and take the path that led up to Santana’s old shack and the chicken ranch. Suddenly the downrigger came to life.

“Fish on,” screamed Dave, and although it was a dangerous gamble turning the Weaver’s helm over to the inexperienced monk, he had no other choice. He instructed the monk to shift the Weaver’s gearbox into neutral, and then grabbed the heavy stubby pole and its power pack. He uncleated the dinghy’s bowline, jumped into it, and quickly separated himself from the big boat.

Because of the huge number of sharks and barracudas that patrolled that end of the island, he had to get the fish into his dinghy quickly, or there wouldn’t be anything left but its head. Lucky for Dave, the reel’s power pack quickly brought the fish close enough to gaff it. It was a yellowfin tuna: he could see the dark metallic blue back writhing in the water, and the telltale flash of bright yellow. He hauled it over the rail and knocked it in the head with his wooden maul, then started the motor and quickly re-connected with the Dream Weaver.

No sooner had Dave scrambled aboard and retaken the helm, when his cell phone rang. It was his mother, who wanted to know where he was. Dave explained, “The monk and I are approaching the dock on Lovango. We caught a yellowfin tuna and we’re headed up to Santana’s old shack to fix some of it for dinner. The monk is going to fix up Santana’s old shack and live there.”

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The monk detected dejection in the boy’s face as Dave’s mother started giving him a completely new set of marching orders. She told him to immediately return the Dream Weaver to her anchorage, swab the deck, and thoroughly scrub her from stem to stern. She had scheduled a party of Amsterdam clients for a sunrise cruise to Yost Van Dyke the next day, she told him — and of course, don’t forget to top off the fuel tanks and clean the fish slime out of the dinghy!

No more treasure hunting for this day, and so much for dinner at Santana’s shack. Although Dave could’ve sold the tuna to Boss Penny’s chef, it would take so long to get back to the anchorage and finish cleaning and topping off the Weaver’s fuel tanks, that now he wouldn’t have time.

The monk asked, “What about me? I don’t want to go back to the anchorage. I want to stay here on Lovango, and start cleaning up the shack and corralling the goats.”

Dave came up with a new plan: “Why don’t you take the tuna to the chicken ranch and offer it to the three-fingered Japanese cook? Tell him you’re going to be his new neighbor, that you’re going to fix up Santana’s old shack, and that before long, you’ll be able to provide him with the same products that Santana did. If you’re lucky, he’ll invite you to stay for dinner, and you can get to know your new neighbors.”

The hungry monk grinned from ear to ear; he liked that idea. At last he was going to meet the Amsterdam girls, and maybe he could reconnect with Rooster Barrack, who by now had become the new boss at the ranch’s hen house.

Big Jessie had made several attempts to catch Rooster Barrack, but so far his best efforts had proved futile. There was little doubt that Rooster Barrack had the potential to be an all-island fighting champion, but nobody could capture him, not even the voodoo priest who had vowed to have Rooster Barrack’s extraordinarily long tail feathers for his ceremonial headdress.

To be continued…