|Wayne, "the kid" and me on Cat Island, Bahamas.|
“The name’s Sean. Sean Connery,” he said, his hand outstretched to shake ours. “This fund raiser is to support my efforts for the work on this church.”
He did not look like any James Bond I’ve met, as they’ve yet to cast a black man in that role. We’re not sure if “Sean” was pulling our leg, that was his real name, or he was just drunk, as we smelled alcohol fumes when he spoke. He gave Wayne a tour of the church, a historic monument but quite dilapidated now. Meanwhile, I bought a lunch of fried snapper, crab grits, dirty rice and a little corn.
|His first shot...|
“Let’s go,” Wayne urged, re-appearing after his tour. Sean continued to bend his ear with a mix of earnestly spoken but slurred and heavily accented words. He was difficult to understand, far more due to the alcohol than his accent.
The closed service station a block away was the first place we could find where I could sit down and eat. It was shady and clean at the raised concrete diesel island. Promptly, a cute little boy dressed in his Good Friday best, who looked like he was about four years old scampered over to say hello. Then sat down next to me. Close, nearly hip to hip.
“Food,” he said, pointing at my now open Styrofoam tray. “Want food.”
“Did your parents say that was okay? Where are they?” I asked, hoping for an easy solution to eat in peace.
“They said to come over and say hello,” he replied, nodding to a family clustered under the service station building’s wrap-around porch. They were too far to engage with ease.
“Food,” he repeated, again pointing.
|Still a little trouble but hey, it's good anyway!|
Then his older sister came over. Did I need to share with her too, I wondered? Then the rest of the family? Or was she going to urge her brother to come with her?
Wayne, knowing I was hungry after our walk there, intervened. “Hey, could you take our picture?” he asked her. Promptly, she did, smiling, then gave back the camera and left. Wayne handed the boy the camera, and mugged for it. He took several shots, struggling a little with pressing the shutter heard enough and keeping his fingers out of the view frame.
Eventually, I finished my food, left and slowly, the boy lost interest and wandered back to his family.
We were relieved he didn’t hit us up for money, like the 12-year-old who persistently and aggressively did last year in Vieux Fort, St. Lucia. Then, failing that, demanded we take him with us back to the United States. “My parents don’t like me. They would like to see me go,” he insisted. There was no question that wasn’t going to happen.
The little guy by the fish fry, however, was kin of charming. Did we do the right thing? What would the right thing to do have been?
April 20, 2014 BAHAMAS. We’re in Eleuthera, Davis Harbour (N24.44.044 W76.14.451). We sailed 56 miles, mostly with the wind, 14-20 knots, SE with2-5+ foot waves. It was a bit rolly. In the interim? We sailed from Rum Cay (N23.38 W74.50) to Conception (N23.51.033 W75.07.298), Conception to Hawk’s Nest (N24.09.453 W75.31.414) on the Southern tip of Cat Island, then up further New Bight (N24.17.234 W75.25.145), then Old Bight (N24.15.230 W75.23.957), seeking to top off our diesel fuel. Due to Easter weekend, purchasing diesel fuel was not an option. We’re left Cat Island largely unexplored due to its lack of Westerly protection; Eleuthera offers shelter to more comfortably weather the Westerlies due in on Sunday. Most likely we will not revisit Little San Salvador as originally planned as it would’ve required motoring there, then finding ourselves relatively unprotected from Westerly winds, then motoring to Eleuthra. Instead, after exploring Eleuthra, we’ll head up to the Abacos, then back to Florida for hurricane season.