Lesson number two: When reaching the end of the gin bottle it is most unwise to make the choice of finishing it up in one go with one huge dollop each than spreading it more thinly to last over to another night.  The consequence was a very raucous evening in Cumberland Bay where we inflicted our jolly selves on the Black Baron bar and restaurant, the only guests that night, an extremely pirate themed establishment run by a a French couple. He was an archetypal long blonde haired ski instructor type and she a sweet little thing that cooked up the most delicious mahi mahi we have ever tasted, succulent, soft, seasoned with a whiff of garlic and enhanced by a touch of chilli served with a delicious bowl of green baby vegetables from their garden.  We know the mahi mahi was fresh because their visitors, another young French couple, showed us the picture of it arriving into the kitchen that afternoon.  The meal was rounded off with deliriously delicious ‘ome made ice cream, Bob’s coconut and mine hibiscus jam.  All this washed down with a Hairoun or three.  Fortunately we were parked only yards from the restaurant and Bob managed to row us back to Windy with much directional assistance from the mate who appeared to be somewhat muddled over whose right and left she was shouting about with increasing hilarity.

We rose later than planned this morning and imbibed an extra cup of coffee to get heads cleared before asking a Rasta man on the shore to untie us from our palm tree, setting off mid morning.  Fortunately we were only heading to Bequia and with a fantastic wind of 20 gusting to 26 as we crossed the channel between the islands we galloped across leaving the rummaging Germans in their 50 foot Benetteau standing and making a smaller yacht look as if he were at a standstill.  The cherry on the top of a perfect sail was the sight of a writhing pod of dolphins with urgent business in mind who crossed our path, diving unhesitatingly under the boat as if it were a very small inconvenience in their hurried pursuit. 

We were helped to park in the vast expanse of Admiralty Bay by a mooring ball man who was as round and inflated as his dinghy and sported a walrus sized moustache, who went by the name of African, and engines were off by 1:30 pm so it was an incredibly fast run.  As we relaxed with a self satisfied beer the rummaging Germans crept in, cheerfully acknowledging defeat, and parked at the very next mooring ball.

We have had time since to clear Customs, raid the ATM, twice because Bob decided that he hadn’t taken out enough on the first hit, have a tasty but rather surprisingly spicy seafood salad lunch, chuck the rubbish and visit the famed Doris’s amazing shop for the most incredible array of goodies, where else would you find 100% chocolate, before returning to Wind Charger.  Bob decided to see if Gerry was up to his job.  He wasn’t, zilch, nothing at all but the new water maker is happily making water just under engine power and the batteries are staying well fed with just the engine.  Overall a very good day.