The Captain's Special

The Captain, blocking out the light of day, disembarked his employers’ yacht at six and with hollow thumps traipsed across the wooden the pier, entering the hotel’s property.
He walked right hand in pocket, left hand on his graying stubble through the lobby, the garden adjoining the restaurant and the pool area to Suzie Q’s bar on the west facing beach for another Bajan sunset, colours burning across the familiar Caribbean sky, cloudless and without a hint of subtlety.
- “Good evening Captahn.”
- “Good evening Adrian. Can I get a white rum please?”

The sound of steel drums and trumpets playing on the single speaker radio on the back wall of the bamboo covered beach bar, along with the clinking of ice cubes against glass, made the sailor smile with cliché as tourists in these waters do. He could smell the drink from here.

- “Another day in paradise, am I right, Adrian?”
- “Yes sah! Here you ah!”
- “Thanks kid. To health, wealth and to good trade winds.”
- “Yes sah”, was the reply he got.

Only a few more islands to go in the coming weeks and it would be off season for the millionaires, who’d bought his service as a seaman three years ago to the month. It was one thing to look forward to at least. He needed himself a holiday.
A month in France maybe? Or Italy? By the coats of course, the Mediterranean Sea had been without him for a while now. Sardinia? Definitely. He always liked Cagliari. So it was set, he thought - eyes closed, nostrils aflame to his beverage - he would fly there in February. Another island, another beach bar and, probably, another girl.
- “It’ll be a long night again tonight, won’t it Adrian? Can I get some lemon please?”
- “Yes sah.”
- “How long have you been working here kid? At this bar?”
- “Too long sah. Once I get enough moolah, I be off to the Jamaica. Better business, better women there I tell you.”
- “Yeah, Jamaica’s nice this time of year Adrian, hold on a sec, hey Irish kid! Can I buy you anything??”
Holding his two sandals swinging in his right index and middle fingers, making his way from the far end of the beach, sun to his towelled back, was a young boy, pale, as the Irish are on holidays, with earphones in his ears, hidden by his long bush of black hair.
- “I have my own money so no. But I’ll drink with you. I, myself hate drinking alone. What are we having Captain Blythe?”
- “Mount Gay Rum. Best in the Caribbean, aren’t I right Adrian?”
- “Yes sah…”
- “I’ll just have a Red Stripe if you don’t mind.”
- “Laying off the spirits after New Year’s are we champ? Listen, I insist on paying , I’ve been making a bundle from sailing those millionaires aboard the Hesperus - on the east beach, yeah – around these islands for the past three years. A king’s ransom, my wages are.”
- “Alright, but the next round is on me Captain Nemo, never a borrower nor a lender be.”
- “Cool.”

So the sailor paid in Barbados Dollar coins which, it seemed, his Irish companion hadn’t seen in his time here by the way he was fixated on the front, the back and the rounded side, eying them with idle curiosity, rolling a single coin between his two index fingers.
They had met a few days previous in the early hours of New Year’s Day as the Captain walked the east facing beach from the pier. A group of the hoteliers had run out of drink hours after the bar had closed early. Returning to the boat and taking from his stock of cigarettes, cigars and bottles all from other islands he did them the favour of sharing his wealth for their company.
- “I can’t see how you finished that cigar, those things are pretty foul to me.”
- “I’d smoke anything. Cuban was it?”
- “Yeah, they’re a buyer’s market over there in Havana. Used to be able for them years back, but not now. Oh and that rum? That was Antiguan, The Captain’s Special I’m told, poured into an old wine bottle by a man with a beard of dreadlocks as long as my sails. All collected this season, in the last few weeks, all duty free.”
- “What? Like piracy in the Caribbean?”
- “Ha! Jack Sparrow? Me, kiddo? No it’s not nearly as cool as that, I just sail those two millionaires, as I was saying earlier, two Jews from New Jersey on their boat around these seas when they’re on vacation every year. Island hopping, you know? It’s really a load of sheep shit but as I said the pay is better then any other I’ve had... And I make the most of it too by stocking up on life’s finer things.”
- “Wow. Have you always sailed then?”
- “Haha, no. Truth be told, I only picked it up when their offer came along when I was in the Big Apple, a while back. I don’t even remember how it came up in conversation actually when I was waiting their table. They have an engine on the Hesperus so it’s child’s play, just moves at the turning of a key. Will you have another?”
- “Of course, this place is the only fun I’ve found in the hotel.”
- “Typical Irish. All alcoholics!”
- “…An alcoholic is someone you hate who drinks as much as you do.”
- “Too right. Another Red Stripe?”
- “Whatever you’re having. I’m on my holidays.”

With gusto the boy handed over a Visa card to pay for the two drinks, which were once again clunked down, ice and all, by the strong hands of Adrian, who was singing ‘Get Up, Stand Up’ by Bob Marley in time with the radio. The others both sat, lost in their thoughts, listening to the sounds of the sea under the freshly set sun. The sailor thought he would like to know what his companion was thinking. He wondered also if he wanted to know the sailor’s thoughts. Then his thoughts returned to his future holidays and the drink in hand, but the prolonged silence provoked his interest in his companions mind once more.

- “Hey kid…”
- “What’s your real name Captain?”
- “What? Oh… Tom. Or Thomas Marlais. Not very New Zealand sounding I know but my family once…”
- “Captain Tom?”
- “Yes?”
- “Do you like it here?”
- “…I don’t know. It’s a free holiday for me I guess. And I’ve been doing it for a while so I never really thought anything of it. Actually I like it here then I do other…”
- “I was expecting more when I was looking at the website I think. A bit of R and R this side of paradise, ya know?”
- “Do you Scuba?”
- “Never tried.”
- “That’s something to do while you’re here. No one to bug you when you’re down there, under the waves. Something to do with the family too since there's a few wrecks by the reef there. Actually you have your real pirate ship out there, ran aground sixty years ago shipping in cannabis from Jamaica and it sunk, cargo and all. It’s just seaweed now! Ha!”
- “Yeah, I might. You know what Captain Tom? Something’s boring me, and I think it’s me.”
- “Woah kid, I’d say ease up on the sauce there. Actually don’t. Then I’d be drinking alone again. Why do you say that man?”
- “I dunno… I thought… I just… Are you happy?”
- “Uh yeah, I guess, why?”
- “No reason. I don’t want to go back to school in a week, that’s all.”

There was something about this kid that reminded the Captain of himself at that age, but he didn’t know what. Maybe it was the fact that he hated school also. What was this kid thinking under that black bush of hair, shining like the night sea under those dim bar lights, he thought once more draining the last of the melted ice cube and rum. And that fringe he wore, hiding those blues eyes from contact with others, only noticeable when he wiped the sweat from his forehead in the humidity of the west beach.
In the silence he once again took these details in, swallowing every detail; the way he jerked his knee to the bass line of the radio songs. If it was anyone else he was drinking with, he would’ve thought it odd the way the boy fingered the rim of his glass tumbler like a guitar, plucking up and down, up and down when he wasn’t speaking. What was he thinking? His phone began to beep.
- Anyone special?
- “Just a friend from back home. He asks can he stay in my place for the night because his Dad is being a wanker again. They’re always fighting tooth and nail over the smallest things now.”
- “I know the feeling you’re talking about. So would your parents allow him to stay over while you’re away?”
- “My parents? No he’s asking because I have my own apartment nearby.”
- “Wow, how did you manage to get your own place at…?”
- “…Eighteen.”
- “At eighteen? Did you rob a bank or something?”
- “Haha, no. I won the Christmas Jackpot Lottery a few weeks back and the first thing I did was buy an apartment in the middle of town. I’m loaded.”
- “Jesus, if I had that money at your age… Adrian can we get two more? The next few are on this gentleman here. So how much did you win, kid?”
- “Sixteen million. And since, every one has been asking me for all kinds of favors like my friend Jack just there. This one neighbour of mine, Katie, comes to my house one day – much to my surprise, as you would be if you actually saw her – sits me down on my bed back in my parents house, and on the spot asks me, hand on my lap, for twenty grand without giving so much as a reason. I said no naturally, and she storms out all teary eyed, slamming the door. What else was I meant to do? Like this was only two days before I flew out here. What would you’ve done? … Thanks Adrian.”
The question went unanswered as the two drank down their fresh drinks, warming them up as the wind had gotten cold. The finest rum from the finest sugar cane the bottle assured it’s buyers. This was a better life then the seaman had hoped for. All in all he kept his eyes firmly on the boy, who kept his staring down on his coaster advertising Red Stripe, jerking his knee.
- “I really don’t want to go back to school now…”

Resting his fingers on the edge of his glass once more, he applied a force, resulting in a flick downwards, landing with a thump on the dark wood counter of Suzie Q’s. What was he thinking?
- “Hey kid, this might sound…”
- “Listen buddies, I gotta close up in a minute, have to go home early tonight. My sistah is getting married tomorrow. Family is ahmportant right? Any last ordahs?”
- “How much for the bar?”
- “Escuse me?!”
- “How much for the bar?”

Adrian began wheezing an infectious laugh, eyes closed, bearing his bright white teeth to the others. A stark contrast to his bright pink gums and the darkness of his skin. He finally wiped a tear from his eye after sighing a final laugh.
- “You have finished all my rum, and I’m leaving now, any serious ordahs’s?”
- “What else do you have kiddo?”
- “Here, try this, my brotha makes it”
He poured into the same two glasses a hefty portion of pink creamy liquid, claiming that “its good” while he began the routine of padlocking the fridges, still singing to the songs playing on the single speaker radio. This time it was Sting. As the sailor tasted it, he couldn’t suppress a cough. It tasted like boat fuel he thought.
- “This tastes like boat fuel Adrian!”
- “Very good isn’t it Captain?”
- “I’ll be right back guys, nature calls. Yuck”
He walked back towards the quiet hotel, passing staff in white and guests clad in Hawaiian shirts and sunglasses, even though the sun had been set fully almost an hour now. Actually he was glad they were wearing sunglasses, they wouldn’t see how flushed he had become.
In the hotel lobby toilet, standing at urinal, he was irritated by his employer, a frog of a man, who stood at half his height, as close to him as he could while they both pissed. Mr. Goldman spoke nasally:
- “Listen Thowmas, Martha and me are going up to Cannonier’s Point this evening for dinner and a fire work display with some of the other goys from the hotel. We could be a while so if you have a chance back at the boat could you clean up a wine stain before it leaves a permanent mork? It’s on the corpet just as you wolk in.”
- “…Alright.”
- “Thanks man. See you later.”
He truly hated that man with every fibre of his forty two year existence. He needed to escape again.

* * *

It was late, and the two were lit under the lights of the Hesperus on the pier. They were fairly ploughed now, the boat’s captain thought. They better not end up swimming again like New Year’s, this time with no one to help them out.
He had said ‘Fuck It’ to the stain on that old frog’s carpet. It’s hardly even his boat, he began to ponder in his silence as he took a swig out of the champagne bottle his companion had bought before he left Suzie Q’s. The Hesperus needs someone to take care of it, and that person has always been Thomas Marlais. What was that boy thinking though?
- “Penny for your thoughts, kid?”
- “Just thinking about my fami-ly Captain! Aye-Aye Captain!”
- “Oh yeah, would they not be pissed off that you’re spending so much time with a long-in-the-tooth such as myself?”
- “They wouldn’t know. They don’t even know where I am!”
- “What?”
- “Yeah, I bet they’re worrying themselves to death over my disappearing act as soon as I won that cash.”
- “You ran away?”
- “Yeah, I flew to the west where the beaches are white. Last place they’d look with the amount of money they have in the bank. I’m a free man, no more school for me. Ever. Haha, giz a swig!”
- “Look kid, you’re making a mistake…”
- “…Pass the bottle! You know, you’re my hero. Travelling the world, ranching cattle in Nigeria, running a restaurant in Cuba, trucking around America, sailing the Caribbean, all the stories! … And all the women! Tell us another story man…!”
- “Yeah, shut up for a second, you’re drunk. I’m not a hero. I’m a coward. When I was your age I ran away from home in New Zealand to Sydney over something stupid. My parents caught me jerking off one day and I just picked up and left. That was twenty five years ago, before emails and cell phones. I’ve been back since but they picked up and left, leaving the old farmhouse we lived in to rot. You don’t know how lucky you are to have your family. I would trade it all in for mine tomorrow.”
- “…Huh?”
- “Get outa here kid. I’m shipping off tonight and I want to know you’ll be on the first flight home tomorrow.”
- “…”
- “Promise me kid. Promise me that you’ll leave this rock. I’m leaving now. What use is your money if you’re alone?”
- “I…promise.”
- “Get some sleep buddy, you look a total wreck right now. Go home, say you’re sorry, blow your money if you want, and go back to school. Don’t be an idiot. Don’t be me.”
- “O…k”
- “I’ll be back here this time next year kid, join me for a drink if you want, I hate drinking alone too. Adios!”
All this was said while the seaman untied the Hesperus from the pier, raised her anchor and began casting her off into unknown waters as the tears welled up in the boy’s eyes, who turned and thumped down the pier to pack his suitcase up for the morning. Thomas now didn’t want to know what he was thinking, that was because now he knew. And from what he knew he guessed, like the rest of them, he’d be alright. The key jangled as it turned the ignition into a rumble of churning water under the engine. He quietly asked the stolen boat:
- “Where to now…?”