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Fishing communities and those that rely
upon the sea are little micro worlds all of their own. Seems like everyone knows
everyone and all of their business. Grand Cayman is just one such place and most
Caymanians are related or intertwined with everyone else in some way.
Now Bert (we will call him Bert because there
are only 4 letters in it and it is easy to type) had a special live-in
girlfriend who was once married to Al (even easier). Now when Al and his
wife, whom we won't name (the easiest) broke up, Al resorted to drinking. Well
maybe not because they broke up, in fact maybe that was why they broke up. Al
soon became the "town drunk" kind of like the "town Mayor"
and his unnamed wife became lonely and eventually took up with Bert and they
lived happily in the house that Al had built. Got the picture?
Bert was a decent sort of guy and somehow felt
slightly responsible for Al being promoted to the town drunk and would
occasionally give him some work just to keep him in rum money so he wouldn't
have to lose his title.
Having just completed building and rigging his
boat, Bert was all set to go turtling. This is back when eating turtle wasn't a
dirty word. When you crewed on a turtling boat you would get a share of the
catch and it could amount to a lot of rum money. Al who was always on the prowl
for rum money, asked Bert if he could crew with him and Bert agreed. But he
advised Al that he ran a dry boat. Meaning that not only did he not want water
in the bilge but there would also be no alcohol allowed on board.
The supplies were loaded and so was Al when they
pushed off early the next morning. Seeing that Al had attempted to store away as
much alcohol in his system as possible, Bert thought it best that Al take
a later shift and sent him below. The new boat was performing flawlessly
and it seemed as though this would be an uneventful trip. Everyone worked
all day long stowing and lashing and all those other good nautical terms,
that is except Al who was three sheets to the wind (another nautical term for
drunk). Around about evening chow time Al got up and ate a hearty meal just like
as if he had earned it. Well earn it he would. He would take the night watch at
the helm so everyone else who had put in their day could turn in for the night.
Bert took the last reckonings for the evening
and called Al up to the wheelhouse. Now Al was no landlubber. He knew about
headings and compasses maybe even a little too much for his own good. The region
they were going to be traveling through had some shallows and even reefs,
but so long as they stayed on course the would miss all of them by miles.
Bert gave Al the heading and made him repeat it to be sure and then went
below to retire for the night.
The gentle thump - thump - thump as the boat
flattened one crest after another is a sailors lullaby and soon everyone was
lulled into a sound sleep. However the sounds of the bottom being ripped out has
quite the opposite effect. Leaping out of bed the crew raced on deck only
to find that the boat had run aground on the reef and the engines were still in
forward throttle. Bert tore into the wheel house expecting it to be empty
because how else could such a thing be happening. To his amazement, Al
was slouched over the compass staring at it in an obvious stupor. Bert
yanked back the throttle and pulled Al back and was about to shout at him when
he glanced at the compass. The Needle was pointing dead on the heading he
had given Al only a couple of hours before. In fact it was fixed on that heading
unable to move one way or the other.
Only a seasoned sailor like Al would have
known that the compass was filled with alcohol. I say was, because Al feeling a
sobering coming on had discreetly drained it glass by glass. Naturally once the
level became too low the needle could no longer swing and the boat was allowed
to wander willy-nilly right into the reefs.
So what's the moral of this story. There is
none. I tried to think of one, like don't take drunks out with you or get a glycerin
filled compass or a GPS, or maybe it is, don't live in someone else's house so
your judgment won't be cloudy, but none of these seem to work as a moral, so this is the
END.
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