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point, and his close maneuver cost him both his colorful sail and his tender French ego as
he snagged clumsily into Déjà vu's outbound wooden bowsprit. There was an expensive
sound of sail ripping, and a fruity French curse as the luckless show-off was flung into
the brine. His attempts to regain his craft were equal to his dismal attempts at saving face.
After an embarrassing struggle, while I leaned over the rail to assist him, the sail was fi-
nally freed, and the little man limped miserably out of sight.
It was with heavy hearts that Paula and I hauled up the anchor and sailed back to the bay
of Fort-de-France. Paula's open airline ticket had reached its limit, and she had to catch a
flight back to England. A tearful, hugging goodbye on the dock ended our four month ro-
mantic adventure. “Oh dear, I will miss you and all of this so much,” said Paula wistfully.
“I too will miss my little sailor girl. You've made me so happy, and you were a fabulous
crew! Thank you for putting up with ol' Captain Bligh and all his bad behavior!”
“No, thank you for teaching me so much and being there always for me. I shall never forget
you and your lovely boat, Jon.” She turned, stepped inside the waiting taxi, and was soon
lost in the noisy French afternoon traffic.
That evening I sat motionless in the dark of the silent cabin. I was mired in the numbing fog
of depression. I could hear Paula's tinkling, English voice. I could feel her sweet presence
and missed greatly her companionship. I realized now with a fearful yet thrilling thought
that I was finally on my own. Chillingly on my own. I had no one to talk to at night, no
one to cook for, no one to row about in my dinghy, and no one to make plans with. I now
had no option but to become a single-handed sailor, and the thought sent a ripple of ap-
prehension through me. I had sailed alone several times before in the relative safety of my
home waters. The physical logistics of solo sailing were not what I feared, rather, I feared
the loneliness and inevitable, long, nightly watches that must be stood. I sat quietly at my
table staring out at the oily, black water of the bay; the harbor lights reflected my shaky
mood. I decided to set sail early the next morning. I felt slightly relieved at the decision and
turned in for the night, ensconced in memories and dreams....
