Sunrise, Sunset
I was anchored on the eastern side of the island and I was not supposed to be, but I knew I could circle the southern end of the island and be at the first dive spot by the time passengers were up and had their coffee.
If you get stuck with the pre-dawn watch – and if you’re not underway - you spend most of the time trying to stay awake while not making noise. After all, people are trying to sleep. You walk the deck, watch the night sky, check the radar, listen to the local radio traffic, clean the binoculars, check the emergency gear, review the night orders, drink some coffee, and then ten minutes later you do it all over again. The best, if not only, good part of that watch is when morning twilight comes. For one thing, your watch is almost over; for another thing, dawn is near.
It comes up slowly, then suddenly. You go from seeing nothing to a perception of where the horizon will soon be. Next, the horizon appears and it is on fire from the water to the sky and from far left to far right. There are reds and oranges and yellows which dance like flames until they give way to mauve and then finally to blue. If you can watch it and not be moved, you have no soul. The trick is to give yourself over to the moment, to shut out everything else. When it’s done you feel like you just heard a choir sing your favorite hymn.
“Was it good for you, too?”
I jumped a foot off the deck and grabbed my chest. He stood there in a robe, holding a coffee mug and smiling. When my heart started beating again, I said, “Good morning, Captain.”
“Morning, Bear. Shall we get underway now that the sea Gods have smiled on us?” Shelby Abanks was a very easy-going Captain, not caught up in his title. Some captains would have been yelling about not being on station for the first morning dive, but not him. He knew where we were and how far we had to go and how easily we could get there. “I’ll take the bridge while you raise anchor. Come back when you secure the hose and I’ll go get my shower.”
I nodded and went forward. The anchor came up easily and didn’t need to be hosed, but I gave it an extra dunking before bringing it aboard and stowing it. It was still clean and showed no sign of rust, but I made a note to smear some jelly on it soon. All the better to keep it in good condition. The engines came to life and we began to make way against the sea. Back on the bridge, Captain Abanks reviewed the course, the time to turn, and the reefs near Porter's Head. I accepted the responsibility for the watch again and he went below.
Wheel watch can be boring, but it beats anchor watch anytime. I punched in the lat/long for our destination and the waypoints in between and the display me gave an arrow to steer by. I could have done it without electronic help, but I’d learned to appreciate back up because when things happen at sea, they happen quickly and small details fly out of your mind. Half-way to the turn, I heard the boat’s name called on the radio, “Wave Dancer, Wave Dancer, Wave Dancer… this Oscar Poppa, Oscar Poppa. Do you copy?”
I grabbed the mike and broke squelch, “Oscar Poppa, Oscar Poppa, this is Wave Dancer. I read you five by five.”
“Wave Dancer, what’s your met?” Met was meteorology. He wanted a weather report.
“Clear blue and calm, Oscar Poppa. You going feet wet today?”
“Negative! Pasquinel said he's on holiday because a squall was brewing.”
Oscar Poppa was The Olde Plantation Restaurant, run by the Captain's Uncle Oswalt Abanks. The Pasquinel brothers supplied their Catch of the Day. With weather this clear, if they weren’t at sea, they were probably hung over and trying to remember the names of the women who were sleeping beside them.
“Feed ‘em steak tonight, Oscar Poppa.”
“Thanks a lot, Wave Dancer!”
We cleared the frequency and I put it out of my mind. Soon we were on station, tied to a buoy and breakfast was behind us. Henri and tossed a coin and he took the guests on the morning dive while I sacked out. The next dive I acted as guide and began the dive brief with a little ecological spin. I pointed out that this spot was very popular and that not all the previous divers had been kind and conscientious. Everyone was encouraged to take their mesh goodie bags and pick up any beer bottles or other detritus.
We got under and I did a nose count and signed FOLLOW ME. I led them into a small cave and out the other side, and then we played chutes and tunnels through the coral reef. On the way back, we crossed a huge sandbar and I happened to see them. There were about forty of them crawling single file – lobsters!
Actually they were langouste or rock lobsters. I signed for the group to follow from a distance, and then tagged one to form up on me. We swooped down over the school and I filled his goodie bag with lobsters from the back of the line. I signed for him to go back and another to come. I filled up goodie bags until we had the whole school.
Back on board, I pulled out the three biggest for the guests’ dinner, and then placed a radio call. Two hours later, Uncle Oswald approached us in an inflatable boat to pick up his gift. I say “gift” because we didn’t have permits to catch and sell seafood. Anything we caught had to be for immediate personal consumption, although we could give away some as a gift, but only to another vessel. We could not take it ashore.
Wink, wink. I knew my next trip to Olde Plantation would be on the house.
The day passed and we moved to other dive sites and showed our guests the wonders beneath our keel. After supper, everyone gathered on the deck to watch the sun go down. As it disappeared, we all applauded, thanking the Gods for a beautiful show.
Our last dive we went down to a sand bar about thirty feet down. One by one, we laid our dive lights in the sand pointed up and backed away into the darkness. We didn’t have to wait long. Small fish and other tiny marine life forms gathered to the lights’ beam and it looked like dust motes caught in sunlight.
Then she came, flapping her wings gracefully. Molly the manta ray seemingly flew through the beams of light, swallowed, banked around for another pass, swallowed again, and continued to do so. It gave the appearance of a choreographed dance routine. All too soon it was time to surface. We gathered our lights and headed for the boat. A breeze had come up and all the guests huddled under large towels and took turns on the hot tub up on the weather deck. I went below to take a nap so I could get up for the pre-dawn watch again.
Just another day at sea.