Today we relive Brian's dingy expedition!
It's day 12 - we have sailed from Cooper Island to Leverick Bay on Virgin Gorda. The crew has gone ashore for supplies and returned minus the captain (still Roe- no mutiny as of yet) who is under a palm tree reading Don't Stop the Carnival.
After a couple hours the radio crackles to life. The skipper needs a dingy ride back to the boat. I look at Brian and give the command, "fire up the dingy - the skip needs you, miboy"
Brian is a "special" tenant of ours and by this time in the trip we have grown accustomed to his barklike noises, abnormal meal habits, strange hygiene habits, lack of clothing, habit of slapping his chest, generally his overall weird behavior.
But the one thing that no one could accept was his indecision. When we said "Brian, pull the red rope" he would look at it and say "well... This one is kinda white with red stripes... I mean I could pull this one but I'm not really sure its red or..."
then he sort of rocks a little bit looking for approval.
"pull in the *&#$ rope!"
he puts his hands gingerly on the rope and stares at the winch around which it should be wound.
"sit over there! #$@%%^&*&&*^^%$!"
then someone would do his job as he fidgeted in his seat.
Now he is faced with being alone in a 12 foot boat (with an engine that stalls occasionally) in a harbor where the wind is lightly puffing out to sea. His mind is reeling with possible tragedies.
"get in the dingy and go get Roe. You've driven the dingy with jack in it. You know what to do. Get in and I'll untie you when you get it cranked."
"Ted - do you want to go with me?"
"get in and go. It's right there - 200 yards. You swam that far the other day!"
rock, rock, rock
"I'll go" said Ted fearing that his fraternity brother would die of starvation on the dock of a four star resort waiting for rescue.
They get in and, with Ted acting as ballast, they motor ashore.
As the dingy comes back to the TI-COYO , Roe is standing at the bow (like ponce de Leon in search of the fabled fountain) and Ted is sitting at attention (big smile on his face) on the center seat as Brian manuvers the "greeeen moata dingy" to the stern of the TI-COYO.
I stand to offer any assistance they may need and Roe holds up a foreboding hand. "Brian is doing this on his own - no help from anyone"
He successfully gets to the back of the TI-COYO and all passengers deboat (like how the stewardess has you "deplane"). Congratulations are offered to Brian and everybody settles down to a nice lunch of beans and rice.
Suddenly Roe “remembers” that he has forgotten bait and asks Brian to go back to the store and buy some.
Then he tells Brian to go get some bait.
Then he orders Brian to go get some bait.
"you've done it several times, I won't accept no as an answer!"
Brian slowly makes his way into the dingy and as he turns around to ask (for the nine hundred and fourteenth time) how to start the engine, Roe let go the line and sends him adrift.
A look of panic came across his face and he couldn't decide whether to :
1. jump out of the dingy and swim for the boat hoping that a giant tuna with rabies didn't devour him on the way.
2. try to throw the line back to Roe so he could hold on to it as he took 45 minutes to crank the motor
3. crank the motor and go to shore.
4. just sit there until he reached Havana where Cuban whores would drag him ashore and fulfil his wildest dreams while sending him straight to hell for fornication.
We got the binoculars out and watched as Brian sailed off into history.
He cranked the motor and made it safely to the dock. After arriving he spent the next 14 minutes tying the vessel up. Then he rechecked his knot; looked at how the other dingies were tied; double checked his knot making sure that a hurricane wouldn't blow it away as he went to the market; looked around to ensure no pirates were about; checked the sky for coming hurricanes; checked his knot; smiled, having full assurance that he had done it with no disasters.
As he walked off to the store he swatted himself on the back with his tank top repeatedly. He says it makes him feel “normal”.
A few minutes passed and I noticed the ease with which some young sailor secured his dingy to a different dock, some hundred yards away - funny how I didn't notice him coming into the harbor.
Another ten minutes passed. Brian sure was taking his time getting bait.
Then Roe, who had been staring intently at the dock, asked "where's the dingy?"
A quick search affirmed it was not where Brian had left it. An easy look to the next dock confirmed my suspicion that whoever had tied that dingy hadn't come into the harbor with it. It was our dingy – somehow it had come undone and drifted across the harbour!
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