Thursday 11th March (Lini’s Journal)
Brindabella's Web Diary
Simon Williams
Thu 18 Mar 2010 11:46
Shovell to go ashore to check us out this morning. I pitied him having
to go back into town and prepared everything I could for sea, then
with time on my hands baked a sweety treat for the Stones and I. On my
recipe memory stick I had a recipe for fatless fruit cake. Yeehah! I
just need one for chocolate cake now!!!! On the still, flat motor from
Fort de France to St. Pierre I too had cake with my coffee today,
while Si had another slice of his boat made date and walnut cake.
Sitting beneath St. Pelee the anchorage by the town was very rolly
with just a few boats that swayed from side to side. Waves crashed up
onto the grey volcanic sand strip along the shore and dinghies bounced
off the dock. We anchored just off the beach in a steeply shelving
seabed with little confidence to leave Brindabella or even Shovell on
the dock. We spent a lazy afternoon onboard; Si had a snooze and I got
my toys out – First attempt at sketching and painting a scene ashore;
it took me until sundowners to half complete my collection of houses
and church and doubt it will ever be finished. Meanwhile, unbeknown to
me the Hallberg Rassy 40 that crept in behind us was none other than
‘Irma’, our ARC Czech friends Otta and Jana, next door but one on ‘R’
pontoon for two weeks in Gran Canara. Otta swam over and invited us
for drinks later. What a lovely surprise.
Simon was elated at the thought of pumpkin risotto again tonight. I
tried to conceal it in peppers for the BBQ and served it with some
fish (bought not caught of course) but think I may have been rumbled.
We then cleaned ourselves up and took rum to share with of friends. We
should have rowed or even swam the very short distance to Irma but we
motored across, Otta took our line, tied us to Irma and we commenced a
lovely evening catching up with of our transatlantic crossings and
subsequent cruising. I was interested to hear how different life was
for two and a half weeks on an identical boat with five crew aboard
and also of their travels now, as they had travelled north initially
for visits from family and are only now heading south. We were able to
exchange our top tips of places to see and those to avoid. Much later
we bid our farewells and peering over their stern I scanned the water
for Shovell: OMG!!!! The dinghy had gone! My heart jumped into my
throat and I shudder to think what happened to Si’s blood pressure.
There commenced a major search.
Otta immediately upped anchor and we motored around the anchorage
scanning the shore and surrounding boats. With no success there we
motored further afield with the search light picking up nothing but a
million and one fish leaping out of the sea. Standing on the bow with
eyes like saucers Si was beside himself. I was now panicking that
while we were searching for Shovell, Brindabella was meanwhile being
robbed by someone who had twigged what was going on: Being only one
boat away we had left the keys in the ignition, the boat unlocked and
valuables scattered about for the taking. We abandoned the idea of
coming alongside Brindabella to jump across and when nearby thanked
Irma and swam back home. We shed salty clothes on the aft deck shortly
before Si donned snorkel gear and torch, announcing he was going to
swim ashore and check the beach. This was not one of Si’s best ideas
even before a whole evening of drinking and I was a gibbering wreck as
his flippers disappeared into the night. Torchlight on the shore was
such a relief but that disappeared for a while as I imagined the
worst. While I scanned the shore for torchlight Irma called on VHF but
my replies were unanswered. I was now convinced Si was in trouble on
the shore and I had no VHF to call for help. Aarrhhhh!!! My innards
were now in knots. Eventually torchlight returned however and I
followed it up to the dock then back along the shore to the south. He
was gone an age. I shone torchlight from Brindabella to signal his
direction back on the off chance for once he had lost his bearings.
The relief to see approaching ripples in the water was immense from my
point of view so unimaginably from Si’s. He was more concerned though
with the still missing Shovell. We tried in vane to sleep: Si was
angry. He spent the night looking through Caribbean chandlery
catalogues for something vaguely as good as our trusty Lodestar. He
paced the decks, he swore, he prepared things for the morning. I lay
in bed feeling totally helpless desperately trying to stay calm. As
well as troubled minds it was an eventful night. The wind picked up to
a force five turning the aft cabin into a wind tunnel with the scoop
over the back hatch. We lowered that shortly before a boat dragging
its anchor drifted close by. Si honked the horn and shone a
searchlight at them but only received abuse for his efforts. As it
drifted away a local fishing boat appeared eager to reap the rewards
of a ship aground. They too were greeted by abuse. The alarm rang to
already conscious minds at five and ready to commence our search we
waited for daylight.