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| Postcard - The National Bird of St. Vincent |
To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.
After our three-day stopover in St. Lucia, we bypassed St.
Vincent and sailed to the island of Bequia, 55 miles south of St. Lucia.
We left at 7:00 a.m. and arrived in Bequia at 8:00 p.m. We had
anticipated entering the harbor in the dark.
We felt confident doing this because we were familiar with Admiralty Bay
from our stop there the previous year, when we’d been heading north
with Tony and Joyce. We anchored Tropic Moon after my unsuccessful
attempt at running down a buoy. Ed had pointed out two lights ahead of
us, and told me to aim in that direction. I incorrectly assumed that
both lights were on shore. After a bit, Ed signaled me to turn a little
more to starboard and, when I did, we slipped past the large, lighted buoy that
I hadn't realized was there….
In bed that night, I woke up around 1:00 a.m. A little voice said, "Why don't you go
take a look outside?" It was common practice, if one of us got
up during the night, to pop our head out the hatch and take a look
around. I tried snuggling deeper into my pillow but the voice seemed
insistent, so I sleepily started out of my bunk. I was startled to see Ed
fly off his bunk, head for the companionway, and dash up on deck. Our
anchor had dragged, and we were quickly drifting out of the harbor. Tropic
Moon had managed to pass three sailboats, without hitting any of
them. We had open water till we either
went out to sea, or ended up on the rocky coast we would have had to
bypass. I started the engine, Ed pulled up the anchor, and we motored
back into the bay to reset it.
It was an exceptionally windy night and, as we saw the next
morning by the positions of the boats, we weren't the only ones who had
dragged. I thought it rather curious that I had woken with a feeling that
something might be wrong. I asked Ed what signaled him, because he knew
before we got on deck that we’d dragged.
He said the sound of the water was different. It was lapping
against the side of the hull, meaning that we were crosswise to the wind,
rather than pointing into it - as you do when you're safely anchored. His
antennae were working well that night.
Bequia, a small island, is the northernmost of the
Grenadines, a 50-mile chain of islands belonging to St. Vincent.
Bequia's official flag is the flag of St. Vincent. The unofficial flag of
Bequia (above) features three black waves, which stand for the
Bequia Channel, the Caribbean Sea, and the Atlantic Ocean, as well as a black humpback whale, Bequia's main
icon.
Bequia was one of the few inhabited Grenadines. The
town of Port Elizabeth in Admiralty Bay was the center of the island's
population. We’d wander down one road, and a couple branch streets,
and we'd have covered Port Elizabeth. The combination Police
Station/Post Office also housed Customs and Immigration. Tourist shops,
grocery stores, a church, a bank, and a gas station lined the main
street. I was pleased with the "supermarket" which seemed very
well stocked with several items, like peanut butter, that I hadn't been
able to buy in the French islands.
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| Postcard - Friendship Rose |
While at the store, I asked for bread. I was told the boat wasn’t in yet. All bread and baked goods came from St.
Vincent, five miles north of Bequia.
The food arrived, along with other supplies, six days a week, on a
native trading schooner, Friendship Rose.
The bread was usually unloaded around 3:30 p.m. The mob scene at the store was unreal. I got caught in it my first day, and was
trapped in a crush of about twenty people, all grabbing for the bread. Taken with the mood of the crowd, I overbought
by about three loaves. Most of it
molded before we could eat it. That
didn’t happen again, because I discovered that if I came in at 4:00 p.m., there
was still plenty of bread left.
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