Eleutheras

Exhilarating feeling was evident on unshaven face of Capt. Crunch when he run around the boat to ready it for new adventures. He raised the sail and let go of the mooring, quietly leaving behind several sailboats anchored in the channel. It was magical. After long weeks on the mooring AfterBlue was alive again, its body moving through transparent waters propelled by the wind. It was blowing well and he was all by himself. When he was passing one of the bigger boats at the end of the anchorage he could hear a woman's voice gasping and running after her husband to tell about the nut that is going out in this weather. Another piece of exciting news the hubby got that morning was a commentary on tiny outboard engine dangling on AfterBlue's transom. Maneuvering the bow around the boats in the Exuma Park the captain felt just fine and paid no attention to such indiscrete remarks. He didn't know yet about couple of hanks that would brake and the tear in the foot of his jib that would make him swear out loud. Oh, !*#@ were his exact words. Being raised good catholic boy swearing never suited him, but it came out just the same. The waves were steep and spray came over his sunglasses. He smiled. He remembered. It's called sailing.

Keeping himself busy at the Park and getting to know some new friends kept him ashore for a wee bit too long. He realized this the night before last while flipping pages of his chart book. Gosh, so many places he wanted to see! Time was slipping by like a cold fish. Looking at the outline of new islands on the charts he murmured to himself: "Go get'em tiger."

Sailing alone wasn't so bad after all. He actually liked it, except that the lump of fiberglass was a poor partner to hold a conversation with and he didn't care too much for talking to himself anymore, but that wouldn't bother him for another few days. Now he enjoyed stretching himself as a solo-sailor. Let's not forget that just a half a year ago he had a panic attack each time he was approaching a dock, screaming at his colleagues, sweating cold sweats. Now he would be sailing alone, approaching unfamiliar harbors at night, while making pancakes and whistling some tunes joggling the hot pan in the air. You can say that the feeling of panic is gone, regardless of what you think about the wisdom of sailing at night.

Oh, but he would do it again, in just a week or so while leaving Hatchets Bay at 2:30 in the morning. This particular bay was man-made by blowing up a 90 foot gap in the cliff and flooding little valley behind the rock. Entrance to this hurricane hole was 90 foot wide but it looked from the sea like it was only fifteen. At 2:30 in the morning, on the cloudy, somewhat cool night this entrance would seem to be even smaller still. It was scary to guide the boat towards the wall of rock in the misty moonless night, illuminating these rocks with the handheld flashlight from the moving boat. The brake in the cliff supposed to be somewhere around… No, he wouldn't dare… Yeap, there it is… Little to the left, and better get some speed because in the surf this outboard engine is going to spin the air.

The boat was pitching badly but the speed carried the boat pass the surf at the entrance. The worse was behind. When the cliffs were safely behind it was time to raise the sails as quickly as possible turning off the engine. Regardless of its long shaft, in the surf like this, propeller was in and out of the water with a whining sound. It was uncommonly dark and lonely out here. The only cheerful light came from a compass. Its friendly, red glow was jerking along with the boat, showing the course back to New Providence.

Capt. Crunch was very excited about his new crew arriving soon to Nassau, but bad, really bad weather was coming from the continent as well. It was either gunning it now before the front or to stay in the Eleutheras and fend off drug dealing teens for a week or maybe even two, missing Tobi's arrival. He just couldn't let that happen. Hence a midnight cruise over the wall.

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