by John Molloy
The Amber Witch was a hive of activity when they reached the boatyard. Kerstin went to the foreman and listened as he gave orders to two men about checking the steering gear. He was a jolly chap of non-guessable origin, handsome as most of these people of mixed race are and fit and firm for a man of fifty.
“How are we progressing?”
He smiled and shook hands with Henry.
“The old Devil Johnnie he nearly get you. I am glad to see you are so well, my name is Charles. I can say we will have you back in the water later today and I will go with you for a little sail tomorrow to satisfy she is perfect. I will have to get a marine surveyor to certify she is seaworthy again especially for your insurance.”
Henry thought how efficient the repair men were. “Thank you Charles, we will see you again tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yes that will be fine.”
They left and went to the ship’s chandlers to order new charts and some navigation books that were soaked. She was trying to think what else needed replacing but preferred to wait until she next went on board to check what else was water damaged.
Suddenly he stopped, “Kerstin you know the photo the old woman Martha in Havana gave me, did it get destroyed?”
She looked at him concerned, thinking how much he wanted to find his son, Juan. “It’s ok, I have it with all your personal belongings at the harbor master’s office. We should go there now and get some dollars, I’m nearly out.”
Henry put his hand in his pocket and took out some coins; “look at my wealth.”
“I do hope we find your son Juan, I know it’s a long shot but they are on one of these islands so we could do it.”
“I have mixed feelings about him sometimes; you never know what his mother told him about me, if she told him anything. He might hate me for not keeping in touch with her. You know Kerstin, how many factors can enter a lost relationship but I’d still like to see him and maybe try to explain what happened.”
It was such a troubled time and young lust or love has a way of expressing itself and no young man could be faulted for being a willing partner.”
“You have such a perfect way with words; you’d make a misdemeanor sound like an act of bravery.”
She was coming in after her trials when they arrived on the pier wall. Kerstin stood with admiration as a mother looks at a child.
“She’s just beautiful, look at her go, lying over to such a light breeze, as sleek and swift as a cheetah.”
Henry realized how much she loved the boat. “I never thought she was so beautiful and it’s a joy to see her like that.”
They tied her up and Kerstin couldn’t wait to get on board. Charles gave them the all clear and told them he’d have the surveyor’s certificate in an hour’s time. “She handles beautifully, pure joy to sail.”
Kerstin was so proud. She went and checked everything below decks first and made a note of what they needed to get. Next she walked the deck and scrutinized everything pulling and hauling on lanyards and seeing the new life raft was properly in its cradle. Satisfied she called Henry. “I‘ve checked everything and made a list of what we need, what say we move back in tomorrow.”
“Fine by me. Everything is dried out below and she looks like nothing ever happened to her.”
Kerstin slapped her hand on the chart table.
“She’s a sturdy baby.”
The next day they were down early for breakfast and went straight over to the harbor to move back onto the boat. Their seven o’clock start gave them the whole day on board to get ready for the next leg of their voyage.
By the time evening arrived they were satisfied with all their preparations as they sat down to a cold supper. Kerstin was brimming over with joy at the prospect of sailing the yacht again. “If we get an early start tomorrow, something like six o’clock, we should make Castries by late afternoon. Get a weather forecast and I’ll mark the course on the chart, then an early night. I’ll pop up to the harbor master’s office and tell them we’re sailing early; they’re a bit sticky on protocol here.”
“Aye-aye mam all will be done, you go to the harbor master and I’ll do the dishes.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The light of a new day was slowly banishing the darkness when they cleared Fort de France and set a course south for Castries, the capital of St. Lucia. It was early afternoon when they became becalmed off the northern most tip of St. Lucia. Kerstin was standing looking up at the few cumulus clouds moving against the slow roll of the mast like cotton balls. “Not much sign of a breeze, we’ll have to use our diesel if this lasts for much longer.”
After about thirty minutes of traveling on engine power, conditions became more favorable and they were able to hoist the sails.
They arrived in Castries and went to the customs office. After getting clearance they sailed across the harbor and anchored in Vigie Creek. They decided to wait until morning before going ashore. Kerstin who was a font of knowledge about the islands never ceased to amaze Henry with her stories and snippets of history. They were sitting out on deck enjoying a meal and watching the comings and goings of yachts and ships as the lights of the city were flicking on like fireflies on a vast canopy.
Henry gazed over the city spread out in a great encompassing circular carpet of light like a field of stars. “What’s the population of Castries?”
A ship passed and the wash rocked them at their anchorage. “A lot of the shipping doesn’t observe the speed limit here,” complained Kerstin, before answering Henry’s question. “Castries has about sixty odd thousand people, quite a large city. The majority of people here are of mixed African descent, possibly ninety percent. The rest of the population is made up of the original native and mulatto people, and there’s a very small number of Europeans.”
Henry asked her how she knew so much about the Caribbean.
“Guide books, Henry. Whenever I travel I always make sure I take a good supply of them. They’re one of my secret indulgences. Did you know Henry, for such a small island, St. Lucia can boast two Nobel Prize Winners; Sir Arthur Lewis in 1979 for economics, and the poet, Derek Walcott won the prize for literature in 1992. For an island with such a relatively small population, that’s a remarkable statistic.”
“It is remarkable, and you my dear, are a remarkable woman!”
“Thank you Henry, but I think that’s enough facts for one night; we better head off for some shut eye, we’ve an early start tomorrow.”
The streets were busy as they strolled around the harbor to Pavee Road where the police headquarters were situated. They saw policemen and women coming and going from the building.
They were shown to a private room when they explained at the reception what they wanted. It wasn’t long before a senior policeman entered the room and introductions were made.
“I’m pleased to meet you both and now, how can I be of assistance.”
Henry related his story from start to where they were now as short and precise as possible. The officer picked up a pen and a sheet of paper.
“Could you write his name for me please?”
“Thank you. Now, please excuse me, I will be only a little while.”
Three minutes later the officer came back clutching a file; he had an air of urgency about him as he dropped the file on the desk and opened it.
“You’re lucky Mr. Carter. I was the man who handled this business, and it wasn’t that long ago. Let me see,” he said, studying the file, “ah yes, it was June, 1998. A man from Venezuela was here looking for his daughter. Her name was Mariola Devadas and she was sixteen years old. She was working on the island of St. Vincent and went missing.”
He showed them a small photo of a family group. “That’s her there in the middle. Her father said she was recruited by some agency for an hotelier and while she worked there she sent money home to her impoverished family. At the end of a year’s stint she was due to go home for a vacation but never returned. According to the girl’s father, her boss had a h
igh powered launch and he regularly traveled between St. Vincent and Caracas - he would often take the hotel girls on the these trips. The hotelier told her father that she went missing from the hotel several days before he was due to bring her back to Caracas. We had no sightings or recollections from anyone of her having come to St. Lucia, so we were of no help to the poor distraught man.
Now, here’s the bit I know will be of importance to you; the owner of the hotel is none other than, Hadar Tukola… he has to be same man you are looking for. I can’t tell you much more….” he hesitated, “wait a minute… if my memory serves me right, I think the girl’s father said the name of the hotel was something like, The Captain’s Beach Hotel, but I could be wrong.”
Henry turned visibly white, he was astounded; he looked at Kerstin but no words left his lips.
She shifted in her chair, took a deep breath and looked up at the policeman. “That’s just the breakthrough we need, thank you so much officer.”
Henry ran his hand across his forehead and realized he still had feeling. “And there was never any more mention of this young girl?”
The officer closed the file. “You see Mr. Carter, a lot of young people, especially girls go on yachts and sometimes their parents don’t hear from them for months or even years, but as far as I’ve heard, this young girl was looking forward so much to going home; it was unlikely she went on a yacht.”
Henry took the photo of Tukola from his pocket and showed it to the officer.
“Would you recognize him?”
“Yes, that’s the man. I have met him on a number of occasions when he’s visited the island in his big launch. The last time he was here he came to the station to report that some things had been stolen from the launch. There was little we could do because he didn’t want us to go on the yacht. I told him that in future he should not leave such a valuable craft unattended.”
After thanking the officer one more time, they left the cool of the police station for the humid heat of the street. They were happy that they were finally closing in on Tukola, but also extremely anxious about how to proceed. They went to a nearby café, ordered coffee and discussed their next moves.
“Henry, we are going to have to plan this very carefully from here in. Do you think he would recognize you after all these years?”
“Yes, I’d say he would. Although my face is older, many people tell me I’ve aged well.”
“So you’re going to have to don some sort of disguise because if he recognizes you the game is certainly up.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I don’t know yet but I’m working on it, but I’m sure it won’t take me long to come up with something convincing.”
“That’s just as well my dear Kerstin, because, now that we are so close, we’ll have to work fast in case the bastard strikes again; time really is of the essence.”
“Yes, from now on we must make every second count.”
Back on board they plotted the course to Kingstown, the capital of St. Vincent.
“It’s only a ten hour run down to St. Vincent,” she said, as she put the dividers on the course and measured off the side of the chart.
Henry sat down and put his head in his hands. “You know now that we’ve located him, I’m as nervous as a kitten. I just don’t know what way to approach this. We have no powers of arrest and nothing too concrete to charge him with except the murder of Shirley all those years’ ago. Would we be laughed out of their court?”
Kerstin turned to him, her eyes steely cold. “Yes, I suppose we could be, but we’re not going to any court! He’ll get the justice he meted out to his victims, and don’t get soft on it now.”
“Thanks Kerstin, I know now where you stand with me on this. I was afraid you wouldn’t see it the same as me.”
She went and straddled him as he sat on the couch. “You know where I stand with you, right beside you until this is finished.”
He kissed her long and passionately. “You see that big sea out there? Well, I love you more than all of that.”
“And I love you more than the big blue sky.”
They sailed before daylight and the great harbor was silhouetted against the brightening eastern sky as they cleared the headland and set a course south for Kingstown. She picked up a fresh off shore breeze which pushed them along at about seven knots. Kerstin came and relieved Henry on the wheel. “You know I’m going to have to change your appearance before we arrive. If we get a spare hour later on, I’ll get to work on you.”
He looked surprised and relieved. “What kind of plan have you hatched? Are you going to make me look like your favorite film star?”
She laughed out loud. “If I could do that I’d be worth millions. Who was it who said: wonders we can do immediately, but miracles take a little longer?”
“So even with your best efforts I’m not going to end up looking like Robert Redford,” he enquired, laughing hysterically.
They sailed on making good progress until just after noon, when they were off the northern tip of St. Vincent, they lost the wind. Kerstin dropped the sails and took a good look at their drift they were moving slowly away from the coast. Great! she thought, it’ll give me an hour to perform my disguise duties.
She went below where Henry was sitting down writing notes in his precious atlas. He looked up at Kerstin. “Now, what should I drum up for lunch?”
“Forget lunch and take off that shirt.” she took out a bottle of hair dye from a drawer, holding it up for him to see. “What do you think of that color?”
“Good heavens, it looks very black, I’ll be like a crow when you’re finished with me.”
“Yes, your hair will be the blackest of blacks but I’ll have to do something with your fair eyebrows to make them black too.”
She worked her magic and in an hour he was a different man. She had used a make-up pencil to darken his eyebrows and when he looked at himself in a mirror he couldn’t believe the change.
“Do you know, I wouldn’t even recognize myself; you’ve done a marvelous job, thank you.”
“I don’t know if it makes you more handsome, but I preferred you before and the sooner I have you back again, the better!”
He pulled on his shirt. “I’ll go out and see how we’re doing if you can make yourself something to eat.” He shouted back down to her, “there’s still no wind so should I start up the engine?”
“Yes do.”
Kerstin plotted the position on the chart and shouted up, “steer one seven zero.”
“One seven zero,” he repeated.
They made Kingstown by mid-afternoon and tied up at the harbor which was situated on the seafront of the town.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The reality of their situation hit them and how to proceed was going to be of vital importance. Kerstin was first to make a suggestion. “I think first thing in the morning we should see if we can find the Captain’s Beach Hotel.”
Henry stroked his chin, “yes, you’re right.”
“Henry, I’ve a few things to finish up on deck and then I’ll go ashore to the customs.”
Slightly out of breath, Kerstin was back on board after only ten minutes.
“Come on Henry, let’s go into town and stretch our legs. After hours on the boat the walk will do us good.”
“Ok, but do I need to wear the hat and glasses now that it’s nearly dark?”
“Yes, it’s best to wear them all of the time we are ashore. Also, I’ve got to get used to what you now look like!”
With Henry in full disguise they headed ashore. It wasn’t long before they were wandering through winding streets of boxy cement buildings. The traders were packing up their wares and fruit and vegetable stalls were dismantling their canopies - another day’s work done. The shops were closing, the café’s and bars and restaurants were open but customers were scarce. It was only seven thirty, too early for the evening tourist rush hour. As they explored the town, the sun was still casting long shadows
through side streets. They turned into a narrow street with old dilapidated buildings which in their prime would have been quite elegant. Kerstin stopped and grabbed his arm. “Henry look!” She was pointing to a building with paint peeling off the walls and window shutters either missing or broken. But in faded and discolored paint they could still see the name across the top of the ground floor windows: ‘The Grenville Hotel.’
They stood speechless.
“This is it,” she said, “you know, in the photo of the woman and boy.”
“Yes…this is just unbelievable; they’re on this island, or at least they were.” He looked at what was once a hotel but had long ceased to welcome guests. It was now home to a number of families. There were children playing in the large entrance hall with people coming and going to the apartments that were now their homes.
“I wonder if Juan is still on the island?”
Kerstin didn’t want to dash his hopes but she had to make him see that finding his son wasn’t going to be easy. “It’ll be a long shot you’ll find him even if he is still on the island.”
“Maybe, but I have his full name and there should be some record of Alicia’s death and burial place.”
“Yes, he would have his mother’s surname as she wasn’t married when he was born so that will be a help. While we’re ashore tonight we should inquire about the Captain’s Beach Hotel.”
Kerstin looked around at a gang of teenagers standing outside an apartment building and tightened her grip on her small money pouch she said, “Maybe they’re very law abiding here but I wouldn’t be too sure. I wouldn’t like to spend too much time in these narrow streets after dark.”
“Right,” said Henry, putting a protective arm around her, “let’s move and see if we can find a more affluent part of town.”
“I’ll take you back to nearer the seafront where I noticed a lovely bar on Bay Street.”
A short walk found them at Basil’s Bar and Restaurant below the luxurious Cobblestone Inn. Henry was surprised to see such opulence after their short walk through the poorer area. Kerstin stopped briefly to admire the outside stone façade, “I was here once before but had forgotten what it actually looked like. It was converted from an old warehouse. They’ve done a wonderful job of renovation and transformation to make it like this.”