By Niamh McAnally
Links to all chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6
Chapter 5: Statia
Freddy pecked at his feathers. It was windy up here on top of the rig; S/V Market Play was making almost 7 knots, but it gave him space to figure out his next move. What was it with humans? Always either trying to steal him or ditch him. Although, in fairness, he didn’t really mind Logan’s last attempt — to gift him to Birdy on St. Barts. Just imagine, all those rich folks on the mega yachts would have been lining up to take their selfies with him. He might even have got to meet Beyoncé. She would have been in awe of his unique voice: soulful with a hint of bananas. But instead, here he was still cruising with the Kanes.
It had been four months since he’d seen his girlfriend back in Falmouth. And he was sure she was the one. He loved everything about her, her piercing eyes, her turquoise plumage, everything … except maybe her name. What decent parrot parents call their kid Polly? She sure was pretty, though. But if Polly were to eventually fowl-the-feather with him, he would insist she change her name.
Oh, how he missed life back in Antigua. He’d still be there if his brother hadn’t challenged him to a pooping contest on the bow of the Leopard catamaran. He still had a bald patch on his wing where the captain had whacked him with a boat hook. Do you think his brother came to his rescue? Oh no. Elusive Edwin had flown the coop. Freddy could have been beaten to death for all Edwin cared. Shameful, since they were the last of the scarlet macaws in the Caribbean. And that woman! The husband called her the Admiral (weird); she looked evil enough to have fried Freddy into golden nuggets for Thanksgiving. Luckily, he was able to hide in one of the dorade vents on deck while they sailed downwind to Saba. Talk about rocky — the island and the anchorage.
From there he’d hopped aboard Bill’s trawler, literally, because everybody knew a bird couldn’t fly on one wing. Bill had been decent enough, they’d motored all the way to the BVI for Christmas, but apparently Bill didn’t concur with Beyoncé on Freddy’s melodic voice. Bit of a cheek considering Bill snored louder than a rhinoceros watching a tennis match. On New Year’s Eve, Freddy made his first post-traumatic-stress flight to reach the spreader on this sailboat. Rumor had it Logan and Charlotte were heading south. But they were no sooner underway when Logan hatched a plan to dump him with that Michael Bean bloke in Leverick. What kind of pirate wouldn’t want a real live parrot as part of his show anyway? Faker. But in the dark of night, he was as stealthy as any swashbuckling bandit. The Kanes hadn’t heard a thing when he stashed Freddy under the cover of the dinghy. Nice touch with the note, Pirate Man.
And now, instead of sailing straight to Antigua, Logan was following the Gentleman’s Guide to Passages South. Charlotte’s quest to find a Selene missing five of its spoons meant they were now approaching the Dutch island of Statia. Annoying, considering he was starting to get his parlez-vous’s under his plumes. Besides, Freddy bet it was no accident — theAdmiral on that trawler had probably flung the cutlery overboard in St Barts. Did Charlotte ever think of that? Eh?
Actually, Char wasn’t the worst, he was growing fond of her. As he was thinking about her, she appeared on deck below. See, perhaps she was tuning in to him too. Hopefully, he could get her to convince Logan to keep him onboard until they reached Antigua.
Charlotte peered up, hand over her eyes:
“Freddy, Descends!”
Oh, he loved when she talked French to him.
“Mais, non! Freddy working, Freddy working.”
“What’s he doing?” Logan yelled. “We need to drop the main.”
What was he doing? His job! Getting a bird’s eye view of the anchorage (see what he did there?) checking for the Selene.
Whoosh!
Freddy unclasped his claws from the sail right before it plummeted to the boom. He hopped onto the tri-color, avoiding that poky lightning deflector thingy. Below, Charlotte was zipping up the sail bag. Freddy stayed where he was. How many times had he offered to help them dock, moor, or anchor, only to be told to stay out of their way. Still, compared to the nugget-frying-crazy-catamaran-lady who screamed obscenities at her husband even though it was her own fault for not catching the mooring line, Char and Logan had this anchoring thing down. Of course, Freddy couldn’t tell what they were whispering to each other on their headsets. “Marriage savers” indeed. As soon as Logan backed down on the anchor, Char attached the snubber and then came the sweet sound of silence once the engine was cut.
While the Kanes settled into their sundowners, Freddy remained aloft, enjoying the view. Not many boats, except for all the tankers to the north poised to unload oil into the storage terminal. But the island itself was quite picturesque: the rugged terrain, charming villages, the colonial buildings with their nod to history, the dormant volcano, the lush greenery spanning the—
“Cousins, cousins, I see cousins!”
He couldn’t believe the number of macaws he saw soaring above the treetops. Graceful. The scene was shattered by Charlotte’s shriek. Freddy flew down the backstay and perched himself on the dinghy. Inside the cockpit, her glass was lying on its side, white wine still dripped down the binnacle. A tray of fruit was flipped over, and about a dozen yellow-breasted coereba flaveola were feasting on a bunch of ripe bananas. Logan, brandishing a fly swatter in full shoo mode, shouted:
“What are they, Char?”
“J’sais pas!” She grabbed the cruising guide and flicked over the page. Then she laughed and laughed. Freddy hadn’t heard her belly laughing like that before.
“Attends!” Snort. “Wait…
“What?”
“They’re called Bananaquits!
“Well help, because they ain’t quitting!”
Humans! thought Freddy, pecking up the fishing rod, did he have to do everything for them?
Links to all chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6
Niamh McAnally is an Irish-born author known as The Writer on the Water. She and her husband, Gary, spent six years sailing through the Bahamas and the Caribbean islands. Her award nominated book Flares Up tells the true story of why two middle-aged men rowed a 20-ft wooden boat 3,000 nautical miles across the Atlantic Ocean. Her memoir Following Sunshine will be released in September 2024. Niamh hosts interactive “behind the scenes” presentations to various groups and book clubs. To learn more visit www.thewriteronthewater.com.
