Guadeloupe
In the early hours, to my dismay, we picked up four would-be illegal immigrants on their way to Miami in a small inflatable that was on the brink of falling apart. The officer on watch was well aware of our unwritten rule to ignore such people, but unfortunately they’d been spotted by a few passengers, and he had no choice but to rescue them, and bring aboard their inflatable. It creates a headache of course, but by the time I was having breakfast, the men had realized that they would end up not in Miami, but on the island of Gamalia, and had requested that they be put back in the sea. Our Chief Engineer made some repairs to their boat, and by mid morning they were afloat again, bobbing around in the waves, hoping for better luck.
At lunchtime we arrived at Guadeloupe. Personally, it’s not my favorite island, as they tend to speak French too much, but we have a tour that takes in a museum and a rum distillery that the passengers seem to love, and for which we have increased the charge each time we visit. It’s now our most profitable stop in the Caribbean!
The so-called world-class entertainer that I had given free passage in return for a theatre performance yesterday evening has turned out to be a fraud. His part of the show was a disaster and he was booed off stage. It transpires that he was not the real entertainer that he pretended to be, but just a tribute act! He argued that we should have known that, but I had none of it, and said he had to pay for his passage to Guadeloupe. When he refused, I told him that I had no option but to take him on to Gamalia, for an independent review of his case, by the board of directors of Gamalia shipping. At that point he agreed to pay the fare, and then we took him ashore.
During the afternoon, I had some slightly worrying news that there may be problems with the sewage system again. It had come to light when the engineers had spotted some unusual activity among the rats in the lowest level of the ship, and had then discovered some sewage. As we’ll soon be back in Gamalia, I’m going to ignore it for now, as I’ve been assured that it isn’t getting any worse.
After dinner, we weighed anchor and headed off on our next leg to St Lucia, our last stop before returning to our home port in Gamalia.
I ate well and had a generous amount of wine and brandy, and was relaxing in my cabin, when I heard a great clamor. I left the cabin and went out on deck, where hundreds of passengers had assembled. To my horror, we were passing with a few feet of a large oil rig. I raced up to the bridge to find out how this had happened. My senior officer, Joseph Negibi, was in command and I was tempted to shout at him and order him off the bridge. However, second thoughts prevailed, realizing that anyone can make a mistake, so I gave him a knowing nod, and blamed it on the positioning of the oil rig. I know some of my officers think I was lenient just because he’s related to the President, but it’s really none of their business to question my decisions.
