Travel Reference
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“Don't let her come about if you can, please. Just fall off enough, and bring her back up
again.”
“Roger dodger,” she sang out sarcastically. I was now able to drag the dinghy's nose out
the water and at least half the water was thus expelled. I hauled her out some more until her
bow was almost touching the taffrail and belayed her fast there. A lot more water sloshed
out the back, and the worst was over.
“Hey, thanks Paula,” I sighed gratefully.
She nodded silently and went back to her cabin. I remained in the cockpit on watch all
night and did not see Paula until midday the next day when we were coming into the bay
of Fort-de-France. We both appreciated the break from one another.
When I dropped the anchor, made fast the rope, and turned off the diesel engine, I noticed
Paula in the galley. “Would you like a cup of tea then?” she asked in her English voice.
“Oh rather, what!” I mimicked her with my best English accent and was rewarded with a
trace of a smile.
“Twit!” she said, and smiled to herself. The ice had broken: we were back safe and sound,
and no damage had been sustained to the dinghy.
“Want to go out to dinner then?” I asked. “My treat.”
“Oh! Why not, that would be lovely!” she said graciously.
A few days later I decided to sail Déjà vu to a little bay on the east side of the island. It
was here, in the bay of Les Anses d'Arlet, that the tourists of France came to spend their
vacations. They came in droves. They brought their wealth, their toys, and their mistresses
from every province of France. It was an opulent collage of tanned beauty, gold chains,
sweat, and luxury. Yachts of great value and elegance bobbed majestically on the azure
shoreline while their inflatable dinghies whizzed busily to and fro. The bay was alive with
colorful sailing dinghies and windsurfers of all descriptions.
Déjà vu was anchored inconspicuously on the outer fringe of the festive activity, humbly
accepting her lowly station in this nautical hierarchy, a Cinderella of the sea. No sooner, it
seemed, had Paula spread her beach towel across the deck and flopped down in the morn-
ing sun, then bronzed windsurfer gods arrived from all directions, scudding about in a pro-
fusion of color and movement.
One such gentleman happened to notice the scantily clad Paula and sailed his windsurfer
back for a closer look. He was happy to see the young lady smile and wave politely at him,
and he returned for yet another encounter. Luck, unfortunately, was not on his side at this
