Back to Port - Day 10 of 10

I abhor waste. Ask my wife. Nothing gives me bigger pleasure than to use something up. I didn't want to mention it before, but I had been serving as self-appointed galley wench. For the last few days I was working feverishly to figure out how to use up the last of our meager provisions. We had done an excellent job of polishing off all of the booze. Now I was proudly serving up a breakfast of "Refrigerator A' La Carte".

After breakfast there was a start-up routine to get the boat going in preparation for someone figuring out where we would go. Today was our last day with the boat so we knew our end point, and we wanted to snorkel off the Caves, which was a quick motor around the point from where we were moored. The "Procedure" included checking all fluids and drive belt tensions on both engines and the generator. This completed, the engines are started for warm up.

On this morning I was pretending to be useful near the starboard engine when I thought I heard something strange. I opened up the engine hatch and it sounded like someone had thrown a load of beer bottles into the clothes dryer. I do have a bit of a short memory so as a test I opened the engine hatch to the port engine and listened. Port engine, no beer bottles. Starboard engine, beer bottles. Using this complex scientific method I quickly deduced that there may be a problem.

So Steve, who always travels with an inspection mirror, flashlight, tool kit and Rescue Tape, climbs down and determines that all of the bolts (except one) that secures the Bell Housing (gearbox-engine interface) had fallen out. The one that had not fallen out had simply broken off. They were all lying in the bottom of the engine compartment. It had become clear why the skipper had been having maneuvering troubles: the only contribution the right engine had been making was noise. After a couple calls back to the maintenance man we decided that maybe we could put it back together. So Steve climbs back down there and demonstrates his uncanny ability to form a second elbow on each arm at will, and bolts the thing back together.

After things are clamped down as tightly as possible, the engine is started again. Sounds pretty good. "Run 'er up a bit" we says. 2000 rpm. Not bad...then screeee-clunk-clunk-rattle-stop goes the engine. Probably not good. We call the maintenance guy back who confirms that we shouldn't run the engine any more (not that we could) and then proceeds to tell us how to make a pretend starboard engine by tying Piglet to the side of the boat!

At last! Something I was good at! Piglet and I would be the best fake engine you ever saw!
Actually, our services were only required while maneuvering in close quarters, so once we were able to turn around after dropping the mooring ball and get headed away from the other boats we were fired.

We headed around the point to the Caves and found a mooring ball a little way down from the others. Since we were new at this we were instructed to "go over there...it's the best". However, "over there" consisted of (in a 100' circle) 4 boats, and I counted no less than 14 bobbing heads, and who knows how many scuba-doers. So I says to my personal lifeguard, "Let's go the other way".

After the Caves, we set sail for the Frenchman's Cay again and Soper's Hole. It was only about 1.5 to 2 hours. The maintenance guy had given us instructions about how he wanted us to sail into the harbor, where to furl the Genoa, where to drop the mainsail, ect. while they intercepted us by dinghy and swarmed the deck, seizing control. However, we were not clapped in irons. Piglet was stolen from me and placed under the yoke of a new master, who helped to expertly put us against the dock. We were back.

One more look around Soper's Hole...


We did get to take Piglet out one more time. We went across the harbor to Jolly Roger's for dinner. Again, pitch dark, no lights and no flotation devices.

I don't recommend the conch fritters...