Boxing Day Race

Bequia  attracted  a  lot  of yachts, especially  during  the  Christmas  and  Easter holidays.  The sheltered bay provided an excellent anchorage for vessels big and small, and the Island’s winter season was always busy.

One of the charter yachts based in Admiralty Bay was Forban VI, a beautiful wooden yawl owned by a Frenchman named Gilbert.  I had met Gilbert shortly after arriving on Bequia, and to this day he remains one of the nicest men I have ever met.  When not on charter he could be found sanding and varnishing his boat by day and socializing at the Frangipani bar by night.

The Frangipani hotel is situated in the middle of Admiralty bay and its bar was  the  watering-hole of  choice  for  the “yachties”.  Thursday  nights  they  had (and still have) their famous “Jump-Up”, when those who  could afford such a treat  would  dine on  imported grilled steaks (a rarity on Bequia!) to the beat of steel drums.  Those  less fortunate congregated by the bar and were tortured by the aromas drifting from the barbecue.  The steel band was not very  good  but that never stopped anyone from dancing the night away with total abandon!

Gilbert was very charming, not to mention hand-some, and I was welcomed on board several times for cocktails or dinner – he always seemed to be entertaining and it was a pleasure to escape shore life for a few hours.  Whenever I got to the top of  Forban’s  ladder he would shout, “stamp zee feet!  Stamp zee feet!”  I always obliged (as did all his visitors) and stamped my feet, figuring he didn’t want sand tracked onto his beautiful wooden deck.  When I got to know Gilbert better he confessed that he got people to stamp their feet to send any roaches down below scurrying.

Gilbert must have sensed how terribly blue I was feeling that first Christmas away from home because he invited me to participate in the Boxing Day Race.  Most skippers would choose a race crew who knew how to sail and I certainly didn’t qualify!  I had failed miserably as a  deck-hand  when  sailing  on  Just Now  and warned Gilbert that I didn’t know how to sail.  He just laughed and said I could consider myself extra ballast.

Boxing Day that year was crisp and sunny with a fairly stiff breeze, beautiful for sailing.  Clad in a  bathing suit and  t-shirt  I set  off  across  the  beach and over Princess Hill to get to the harbor.  The yachts were getting ready to sail, some already tacking around Admiralty Bay, and it was a pretty sight.  Gilbert fetched me from the Frangipani dock in his dinghy, and after “stamping zee feet” I joined the rest of the crew on board Forban VI.

What a fun day!  The Boxing Day Race (unlike today’s Easter Regatta) was a casual affair, with no race committee and no prizes, but that doesn’t mean there was no drive to finish first.  Several yachts were competing and it was a glorious sight, with white sails growing taut in the stiff breeze and hulls heeling over in the sparkling water.  It was exhilarating and I was loving every moment, even when I had to hang far out over the rails as ballast.  Gilbert was a great skipper and his local knowledge helped him win the race.  While other yachts went around West Cay He eased Forban VI through the “cut”, which I realized must be a daring move when I saw that the crew held their breaths until we were through.  The sea was choppy, not too rough but enough for me (the ballast!) to get thoroughly soaked several times

Forban VI won the race and we celebrated our victory ashore at the Frangipani.  The skippers and crews from the other yachts were there and it was a boisterous party fueled by lots of rum punch.  It had been a wonderful day and the dismal feelings of homesickness I had experienced over Christmas had been washed away, thanks to Gilbert and his beautiful yawl.