by Stieve Adams
into the ocean. At about the same time, one engine stopped and soon the other engine started to cough and stopped it too. After a glance at the fuel gauge, I realized that the gasoline was over. The fuel meter I had totally forgotten to check which was not so strange considering the other jobs I had behind the wheel.
It was blew like said from the southeast so it was only to let the boat drift ashore.
"But we're heading for Black Rocks," suddenly said Boy staring out in the darkness towards the country.
"Yes," I say, half uninterested. But I soon hear burns in our direction of travel, and in the dim light, I perceive black rocks that stand out of the water and the sea that breaks against the black rocks so that the sea is shining white.
"Sure lucky we have the rubber boat," I say hopefully. "Boy, download the most necessary thing in a plastic bag. Now. Then we'll try to get landed by the rubber boat."
The black rocks came closer and our boat slid closer. Now I saw clearly how whitening swirls surrounded the carbon black cliffs. There were black rock rocks that got out of the sea, they were many and hot and no boat had a chance to get through to the land. Nobody was so stupid that he tried. We were probably not the first to blew land here, there were certainly wastes from other boats over the centuries.
Now, at least we had life vests on us, the rubber boat lay on deck ready to use and we approached the first threatening stone pit with good speed. We went closer and we were armed with boat shackles and actually managed to keep us from the first cliff and the other cliff. We encountered the third with a broke, but walked for a moment until it sounded like someone tearing a piece of cloth, but multiply higher. The boat was thrown into the bottom of a submarine cliff and began to sink like a rock.
With united forces we stopped the rubber boat in the water and in the backwater in front of the boat we managed to crawl on board, I took the paddle and tried to pair the rocks as we crossed the country. Suddenly we were thrown up on a rocky beach and dragged both ourselves and the rubber boat up on land. We took both hands and knees on the sharp lava roasts and my half-cut ribs did not feel good at this treatment. After all, we were all three quite alive and basically dry. The waves tumbled over us every now and then, but otherwise we rested on the rough ground. Our nice boat was obviously broken against the rocks at this time. It was hard to see anything at all in the dark.
"Come on now, time to bump away to the nearest city," says Boy, who seems to be rude.
10. Big Bill
Now we sat in a big well-groomed American taxi heading south. Valerie and I in the backseat and Boy in the front seat next to a giant black Arawak. Well, it was our acquaintance since last, Big Bill. I suspected him to have some harmony with our Mexican villains, with Boy assuring that he knew Bill in his entire life and he could not possibly imagine anything but driving a taxi.
When we got up from the rocks at Black Rock, we soon got up the road. When we followed it for a while, we came to a town with a telephone booth and Boy had called Big Bill's friend who picked us up in his taxi.
"I think we're sharing", I said carefully, "but I do not want to go into the hotel in Basseterre. You never know what a foolish Mexican can be there."
"Japp," agreed Valerie, "We're going home to the Acid, and Big Bill drives you to Frigate Bay, where you're closer to the treasure." We're coming to you early tomorrow bitti. "
Big Bill left Valerie and Boy in Basseterre and continued with me south.
"Do you want to stay at Sun-in-Sand or Island Paradise," asks Big Bill.
"Drive me to paradise, that sounds nice".
Big Bill shows where the front desk is when we arrive. It turns out that Alyson, who manages the plant, is American and that Island Paradise consists of condominiums owned by Americans. In any case, there is an apartment available, a room and a kitchen at the bottom. No air conditioning but with the fans on the high speed it will be quite pleasant.
Because I am hungry I ask if there is any dinner and is recommended a pizzeria just a few hundred meters from there. The only clothes I had were t-shirts and shorts, but they had dried now so that was good. Then I walked to the pizzeria.
The pizza I ordered turned out to be a giant pizza, American size. And it's clear with an American holiday town on the knots, it's good for the businesses to Americanize the offer. But I took the place where I came, began to stuff me a thick and good pizza and rinse it down with two Coca-Cola.
The only ones that were at the restaurant were me and two American ladies. Nice ladies, but very American. They became interested in my accent and began to speak Europe. I had just met blacks and Indians and Thai and Mexicans lately, so I thought it was fun talking to a couple of nice American girls as a change. Before I had passed through half my pizza said one of them was tired and had a headache and wanted to go home.
"Go home you, I stay and make him company for a while," said Cheryl, the other American. The coolest and narrowest of them. She turned out to work with computer programs for a US company but was here on vacation. Since she also lived in Island Paradise, we of course made our company there.
"Unfortunately, I do not have a bed fighter to invite, I just came and have not even bumped up yet," I said.
"We'll fix it easily, the shoe over there is still open, we go there and fix a bottle of rum."
It is clear that we will get to know the local supply. Do not mind, even though I'm more prepared for Scottish produce in the usual cases. I felt I needed a strong drink and a quiet night to get back into shape. We bought a bottle of some local brand and because I had already invited her to a bed fighter I could not get back now.
We walked in to me and dropped into each of his basket stools after putting a lot of ice in each glass and stuffed with the contents of the bottle. I felt really sleepy while enjoying Cheryl's ten-year long arms that disappeared into a sleeveless undressed thing that looked exciting. She had left the teens about that ten years ago, but it made it more appealing to me. I had left the teens myself several years ago.
"What you look like," she says, "have you crawled here on all four or what?" she says
Dirty and broken t-shirt, unshaved, and bad hands, I had, though I had washed myself as good as I could before I went to the pizzeria. She was right. I stumbled on the fact that I had fallen down for a sled in the dark and that the luggage had been lost on my way here.
"My father was a naprapath," says Cheryl, "take off your shirt I'll see you look.
"Usch," she says, "you're all blown everywhere. I'm kidding and picking up some liniment, and I'll take care of you."
I lay on my bed with just the shorts on me and after two minutes she comes back with a jar of smelly strong lubricating lubrication.
"Lie still," she says, lubricating my body with liniment and kneeling my muscles with habit. She knows what she can and that's nice. At first she kneels her back and then the front. She is close and her fragrances penetrate the sharp lineage smell. Her long hair is tickled and my lusts start to wake up to life.
"Tomorrow we are going to Nevis, are you coming? It's Nick, he who is married to Alyson, who has a catamaran and has a trip to Nevis tomorrow."
Sure, why not. It may be a great opportunity to inspect the south coast, I think.
"Relax," she calls me, "it's better with relaxed muscles".
It is easier said than done, some muscles can be controlled, others act more for themselves and are increasingly excited by the treatment. Cheryl pretty much notice what effect she has on me, she pushes her round soft hills to my chest, wobbles her long arms around my neck and gives me a minute's super kiss.
Then the treatment stops in a row.
"At six o'clock tomorrow we will go. Sleep well!"
And she's gone. I quit the bedside lamp, all my muscles relax and I fall asleep as a stock within a minute.
11. Banana Bay
I wake up and think I'm stifling. It's in the middle of the night, I think it's dark, or maybe it's because I forgot to open my eyes. I fight something and get som
ething soft and naked and can suddenly breathe.
"Goood Moorningg", I hear, "up and jump", on broad US. "It's morning and you should go to Nevis!".
I gather thoughts and slowly begin to understand that I forgot to lock the door last night. And that I was woken by a wet good morning by my female friend since last night. Cheryl and her friend are screaming at my embarrassment. I feel no special desire to go to Nevis this unchristian hour of the day. But shame on the one who gives up, a quick toothbrush and we walk out to the jeep where Nick is sitting at the wheel waiting for us.
We will arrive soon at Basseterre Harbor. The Pelicans sail around and look for fish they can catch. In the middle of the harbor lies a large rusty wreck that has been safe there since the fifties. Or maybe from World War II. On the other hand, there was probably no war in these areas so it is surely only someone who left the wreck in the harbor. It is strange that it is so rugged outdoors everywhere on these islands. Old wrecks, Coca-Cola cans, bottles and all-round junk are everywhere and nobody seems to care. In clear contrast, everyone seems to clean and dress in freshly washed clothes.
At any rate, we quickly fly aboard the Nicks Catamaran and sail south to the island where the mountain peak always lies in clouds. As we travel south of St. Kitts, I'm looking forward to a beach looking fateful. But there seems to be some kind of settlement after all. I borrow a