‘Nobody ever knows,’ the man in uniform said. ‘St Vincent boats go where they want, when they want. But if you want me to guess, I’ll say that leaves next.’ He pointed confidently to a rusty cargo ship, being loaded with goods. Looks perfect. ‘Where do you want to go?’
‘I don’t mind. As long as it returns before my cruise ship leaves at 5.30.’
‘Perfect. Climb up that ladder on the port side.’
It was perfect. Other tourists paid P&O-Carnival £74 for a ‘posh’ trip to Begoia. This cargo ship cost £5 return.
I watched, as usual the only ‘white’, as business men and women in colourful clothes carried onto the ship sacks and boxes full of green bananas and newspapers, and barrels of local rum. It was chaos, because nobody bought a ticket until after the ship sailed, and no signs or advice said which ship went where. Some people pushed their goods on and off different ships, trying to find the right one. Others arrived to sell tomatoes or fruit to those onboard. Small trucks, wheelbarrows, and supermarket trolleys careered onto the deck below, and often quickly off again.
The ship was due to leave at 10.30am. Eventually, at 11.30am black smoke poured from the funnel. As the metal gangway pulled up, a jeep screeched around the corner and dashed aboard, as a shopping basket was shoved ashore.
Men and women rested before selling their wares. In the rough, choppy swell, the ship rolled from side to side, and up and down, throwing spray on the passengers, and two off their seats.
It was worth it. Friendship Bay in Beguia lived its name. Everyone smiled, as did I when I tasted Marianne’s famous homemade ginger and pumpkin ice-cream. Ginger is a Caribbean spice, and her gingerbread is famous too. A sign read, ‘If I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread.’ I bought some for $5. The sign could have been written by pirates of the Caribbean.
Not far away, along Pirate Bay’s sandy beach, people played backgammon and chess (two of my favourite games) very peacefully, the opposite of other islands’ wild drug-fuelled draughts. Genteel restaurants overlooked water taxis, speed or rowing boats, and small flotillas of yachts and ‘cats’. Divers and snorkelers splashed gently, seeking underwater delights.
Tiny fishing boats moved from jetty to jetty, where a few locals waited to buy 15” long silver barracuda at $3 a pound. One fisherman carried a 5 foot ‘dolphin’ (the dolphin-dorado fish, not the dolphin mammal).
Shaverne Olliverre, a beautiful black lady about 30, bought a small barracuda for dinner, then chatted over bottles of St Vincent’s prizewinning lager, the 4.8% Hairoun. She’s a Bequian schoolteacher of Spanish and sociology. ‘If you come again, I’ll show you my beautiful island,’ she said. ‘There’s no trouble here, just love.’
I love this island, the peaceful fun, the laid-back friendship. I returned to the cargo ship leaving part of my heart behind. Who doesn’t want peace, fun, friendship, and love?