22.20.1'W x 72.31.0'W

I never expected to visit the place again so soon. Yet, here I was, a year-and-a-half later, going into the little harbor with Captain Vos. Inside the harbour were three sunken wrecks, a derelict mess of chipped plywood superstructure from three large, ferry-like boats, blocked the right side of the harbor. Those ships were all afloat last time I was here! (I learned later that a passing hurricane sank them in the harbour).

As I waited for the captain to finish his business with customs officials, I watched a wooden sloop get underway. She had shaven tree trunks for masts and booms, a bulky tiller for a rudder, and a colorful hull about ten meters long of chipped blue and faded yellow paint. With a friendly wave, a smile and a big push, a man near the stern hopped in as the boat drifted off the dock. With her dock lines cast off, the small crew of about five men began to hoist a sail, a sail that I could now see was stitched together from old advertisements. Leaving with the tide and a helpful breeze, the men expertly guided their boat through the narrow harbour channel. As they entered the open ocean they began to hoist the gaff of their mainsail. With a terrible screeching noise from it's blocks, the flexing, bouncing gaff was hauled up, as if stretching for the sun painfully, until it was nearly vertical. For some hours after, we could see the sloop sail slowly in a southerly direction.

I believe what I saw was a Haitian sloop from what I have read about Haiti's home-made fleet of sloops. Fishermen and merchants alike make their own vessels in Haiti, rigged up in a traditional manner with whatever materials are available - wood, natural fiber line, bamboo-like spars and even sails made from garbage bags, old clothes and advertisements. It was quite an inspiring sight to see these men, who make a living from the sea, sail away with no engine, no obvious amenities, no radar or GPS. Nothing more than wood, jury-rigged rigging, makeshift canvas and some skill. I can only imagine what they thought as they sailed past the anchored Europa - with her lofty yards of synthetic canvas, bright ensign and gilded figurehead accents. The Europa with her twin auxiliary engines, three generators, water-maker, her cabins with personal toilets and showers, her automatic dishwasher…I do wonder what those men thought in their simple sloop.

Our arrival to Great Inagua coincided with another occasion; the very next day was the birthday of our ship's doctor, Japke van Urk on May 27. To celebrate, a small parade of colorful, glazed sponge cakes carried by crewmembers singing Happy Birthday lit up the main deck after dinner. "Lang zal ze leven, lang zal ze leven, in de gloria!" sang the crew in Dutch after Happy Birthday before the candles were blown out. It means "Long shall they live, long shall they live, in glory. Her birthday cakes and our singing were well deserved, as Japke has been bravely painting the figurehead, day in and day out, hanging under the head-rig of our rolling ship. Her deft fingers, if not put to use to stitches and scalpels, have found a purpose in the precision painting of our unique (and extensive) figurehead of the maiden Europa and the bull, Taurus. Our cook, Rensje, commends her, saying that she is a "notable purpose doctor".

Meanwhile, our time on the ever-quiet island of Great Inagua gave us a chance to stop the ship and refresh our spirits. Its center, Matthew Town (pop.1,200), is reminiscent of the archetypal sleepy "wild west" town seen in Hollywood - a single road with a general store, police station, a gas station with a single pump and a tiny bar and grill. There is even a few cacti to ease the imagination. A mile away lies a tall, white lighthouse that looms over the flat brush-covered island. It has a "clockwork-like" mechanical light - unique now in a world where most lighthouses are driven by an electric motor. A real highlight of Great Inagua for most of the crew was swimming in the azure waters and white sands of its small beach and coves, unmolested by any tourists besides ourselves.

We heaved anchor late on the 27th and sailed off the hook towards the north and onwards to Bermuda. We managed to sail for most of a day until the motor needed to come on. Captain Rob says that we will be motoring for a few days to come thanks to unfavourable winds and stable weather. We are about 670 miles from Bermuda, so there is maybe still some time for a good sail before arrival.