Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
trol, out of my depth with some of the people I had experienced “while in Rome.” I felt a
little jaded and needed to reign in my Bohemian and somewhat romantic temperament. The
imminent visit from my brother would bring me back to earth, and hopefully I would begin
to realize the cruise as I originally imagined it would be.
In due course, Gavin arrived and moved aboard the yacht with his meager belongings. His
affable grin was infectious and his enthusiasm welcome. This was the first time that he
would be sailing outside of South African waters on anything other than an afternoon sail
round the buoys or inter club regatta. We caught up on all our news and adventures about
him in Canada and me with the cruise to date. I told him about Darleen, and he was very
keen to meet her, which he soon did, and they became good friends.
One weekend, my brother and I decided to take Darleen on a sail to Dog Island, a small
uninhabited little island off the north shore of St. Maarten. The island was reputed to be
teaming with wild goats, and the idea of shooting a few for meat was the plan. As soon as
the boat was firmly at anchor, Gavin and I rowed ashore with the crossbow that was to be
used for the hunt. Darleen would stay behind and take care of the boat as she wanted to lie
in the sun with her book.
Upon landing and securing the dinghy, Gavin and I set off to find any spoor or evidence
of the goats. We soon spotted a bunch of them grazing near the rise of a hill, and it was
decided that Gavin would go up and around them and chase them down toward me as I laid
in wait for them in the long grass with the crossbow.
Soon enough, the plan unfolded like clockwork, and the herd started bleating and scattering
down the hill. They breezed nimbly into the ambush and disappeared just as nimbly, leav-
ing me aiming wildly at any moving object. By the time I had a goat in my sights, it was
too late: they fled and we had to devise another plan.
We followed the goats to an abandoned house and overgrown garden where the walls were
crumbling and fallen. These walls offered a screen for quietly advancing hunters, and it
was decided that I would go around the one side and Gavin the other.
I came across a mother and her two kids, and I had them cornered in a room of the ruined
house. I brought the crossbow up to my eye and took aim. This was so easy; I put my finger
on the trigger and felt it begin to give. The hunting arrow had a set of four vicious, sharp
blades set in the long, straight shaft and would slice into the prey's neck, severing arteries
and rendering the animal helpless.
For some moments I waited, unsure about my actions. One of the little kids stared at me,
his large unblinking eyes utterly oblivious as to his peril. The sweet innocence of the baby
