Tales From The Captain's Table

Growing up in Marigot Bay, St. Lucia, during the 1960s was an adventure.

- Capt. Lou Boudreau

Huck Finn Adventures In The Caribbean

A few youngsters lived in the village overlooking the bay, and we befriended them. Lewis Dalawas was my age, and he loved to fish and explore as much as I did. He often sailed with my brothers and me on Peggy, the 25-foot wooden sloop my father gave us one Christmas.

She was red-hulled, with a simple gaff rigged main and one jib. A small, oblong cockpit seated four, and a sliding hatch led to the cabin. Peggy was Spartan below deck — just the hull frames and a bench to port and starboard. Nonetheless, she sailed very well, and we thought her the best.

Had my parents known where some of our voyages took us, they might have keeled over. We frequently made overnight trips to the bays and coves along the coast and usually held firm to the destinations our father had plotted for us. One summer’s day when I was 14, we planned an overnight voyage to Pigeon Island at the north end of St. Lucia. With my brother Peter as mate and Lewis as deckhand, we stocked Peggy with a container of fried chicken, bread and water, and set off on yet another exploit.

It was a fine day; a blue trade-wind sky hung overhead, filled with puffy white clouds. The easterly breeze tossed spray over the bow as we laid a course northward from Marigot Bay. Our little sloop danced merrily over the waves, dipping her lee rail occasionally. Before we knew it, we were miles offshore and well past the point that Dad had instructed was a safe limit. As I looked to the north, the island of Martinique and Diamond Rock suddenly seemed very close.

“Pete,” I said excitedly, “let’s go to Diamond Rock.” My brother looked at me with uncertainty. The Rock was some 19 miles from St. Lucia and most definitely was out of our bounds. “Do you think it’ll be OK?” he asked, although the tone of his voice told me he already knew the answer.