TALES FROM THE CARIBBEAN

After the fish boil at the boat shack, everybody’s belly was full. Mona and Catrina had finished telling Brother Lamb’s fortune, and silence ruled the circle. The monk sat as though stunned; he started to say something about their predictions, but then pulled back. He could not make himself believe what they told him about his future, yet they had been exactly right about every detail of his past, even about things he had never spoken of to anyone else. The monk muttered to himself, “How could their predictions about what is going to happen to me possibly come true?” He was especially puzzled about the “many children” prediction.

At this point, a local commercial fisherman showed up late to the feast. After he had helped himself to the fish, the rum, and a hand-rolled cigar, he broke the silence that still hung over the gathering with a piece of bad news. “Did you hear about the men who went missing today, six of them?”

The rest of the circle pressed him to tell them what happened, so he continued, “Clear day, good visibility with no wind, low seas. Whatever happened to them must have happened quickly because there was no radio communication from them. Their EPIRB (emergency position-indicating radio beacon) never activated; they simply vanished without a trace. The Coast Guard has ended their search and the men’s families are at the town chapel for an all-night prayer vigil, but hope for their survival is beginning to wane.”

Over the past fifty years this identical pattern had tragically repeated itself more times than anybody could count. Big Jessie was of the opinion that a rogue wave was to blame, or a sudden powerful downburst, waterspout or some other natural phenomenon. But there were others at the boat shack that started muttering instead that there was nothing natural about it: “It’s Devil’s Triangle!” Still others theorized the men might’ve been swallowed up by the mysterious whirlpools that can suddenly form when strong tidal currents collide with the Gulf Stream, while yet another group began speculating that it could have been one of the UFO’s, recently spotted over Puerto Rico, maybe one of them swooped down and got them.

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While everybody promoted a pet theory, Dave (everybody called him Shark Boy) remained silent. He was thinking about three things, beginning with a story Santana once told him about a giant black shark who had destroyed his grandfather and father’s fishing boat, and had then circled around and eaten them and their whole crew after they were thrown into the water. Secondly he remembered his own recent encounter with a huge black shark, the likes of whose dorsal fin stood taller than a man. Shark Boy had hooked and fought the giant shark all night, until it pulled him into Superstition Bay, where the beast turned on him and tried to capsize his dingy.  If Dave’s motor had not been running and in gear the monster would’ve got him for sure. The third thing Shark Boy thought about was the sound his propeller made when it took a big chunk out of the shark’s huge dorsal fin. The outboard motor sputtered and nearly stopped, but Dave grabbed a handful of throttle and drove to the safety of shallow water. He was dubious as to whether the Devil or a visiting UFO had taken the sailors, but there were other strange creatures in that part of the Caribbean in addition to the dangers of wind and waves.

But Dave kept his mouth shut. He slowly stood up from the circle and asked Brother Lamb, “Are you ready to shove off?” Dave promised his mother that he would look after her sloop the Dream Weaver while she was in Puerto Rico. Shark Boy and the hungry Monk hiked down the steep hill to where their dingy was docked; the outboard started in one pull, and they motored out to the Dream Weaver. They secured the dingy’s bowline to one of the Weaver’s aft cleats, and climbed aboard. The Monk, soon after, climbed down the ladder to the cabin and fell fast asleep while sitting at the gimbaled table, but Dave stayed on deck under the light of a full moon and was deep in thought as he looked toward Lovango. To be continued.