TALES FROM THE CARIBBEAN

Dave (everybody called him Shark Boy) eased the Dream Weaver close to Lovango’s dock and shoved a big boat fender in place to keep the hull away from the roughly constructed pier. As he disengaged the gearbox and turned off the ignition, the hungry monk jumped from the Weaver to the dock with a line in his hand and tied up. Dave climbed ashore himself, and after finding a cart to carry the big yellowfin tuna, jumped back into the dinghy and grabbed the fish by its gills with both hands. He heaved it up onto the dock, and then climbed back up and loaded it in the pushcart.

He bid the monk good luck as he re-started the engine, and had the monk toss the dock lines aboard while he shifted the Weaver into reverse and slowly backed away from the dock. Once he had enough room, he spun her around and headed for home.

Before long Dave had his Mom’s boat back on anchorage with the tanks topped off. After he had all the lines in order and put the sail cover on the mainsail, he started swabbing the deck. The brilliant Caribbean sun was setting, and Dave’s mind had drifted back to the pirate treasure, when he heard a voice calling, “Ahoy, mind if I come aboard?”

It was his friend and mentor Ryan. Ryan had graduated from Vanderbilt University a few years earlier with a degree in Electrical Engineering and set out to have what was intended to be only a few months vacation in the Virgin Islands. Although he only intended to spend that first summer sailing, that summer never ended; he bought a sailboat and had lived there ever since.

Click to advertise on this website

Dave continued to swab the deck while Ryan found a dry place to sit. “What’s up?” he asked him, but before Ryan could answer, Dave asked him another question, “How did you finish in today’s regatta?”

“I finished first and I still can’t believe it,” answered Ryan.

“No kidding, you beat the Flying Circus?”

“Yes, it was amazing, I not only won on corrected time, but I beat Flying Circus boat for boat, and her waterline is longer.”

If skippers are otherwise equal it often comes down to the one who gets a favorable puff. But things are rarely equal, and most races are won by the longest waterline, or the skipper who does the most little things right and makes the fewest mistakes. And the skipper of the Flying Circus was Dave’s father, who had the years of experience and the aggressiveness to sail circles around any other boat his size.

Dave was shocked, and knowing his Dad was a notorious sore loser asked, “What did my Pop say?”

“He gave me a hard look and said, ‘Remember, I taught you everything you know about sailing, but I didn’t teach you everything I know about sailing.’ But nevertheless when a student beats his professor it’s a significant emotional event.”

Ryan changed the subject and asked, “Where’s the monk?”

“He stayed on Lovango and the last I saw him he was pushing a cart up the hill towards the Chicken Ranch with a big yellowfin tuna in it. He was going to introduce himself to the ranch’s three-fingered Japanese cook and tell him they were going to be neighbors. I suspect what he really had in mind was meeting the Amsterdam girls, but either way, he’s going to fix up Santana’s old shack, corral the goats, and live there.”

“Did you warn the monk that the Japanese cook is an ill-tempered Yakuza?” (The Yakuza are the Japanese equivalent to the Mafia or the Mob.)

“No, but the monk respects everybody no matter their economic status, color, or nationality and when the cook sees all that free sushi in the cart, I’m sure they’ll soon be friends,” said Dave.

“I hope so,” said Ryan, “I’ve never been to the Chicken Ranch, because my dad said fly’s cause disease and I should keep mine zipped up, but I’ve heard horror stories about that ill-tempered cook and his humongous meat cleaver.”

To be continued.