We found the one store overflowing with people who had just received their monthly pay checks from the town’s No. 1 employer, Morton’s Salt Company. We took our turn in line, and at last were permitted to purchase seven tomatoes and one (1) loaf of bread, both items having just arrived from Nassau.
On the way back to the dock we called—by request—at the office of the sole government official on the island, and forked out $8 (American money was graciously accepted) for “harbor and landing fees.” Clutching our unexpectedly costly purchases, we rowed back out to the Phoenix, and left for Jamaica the next morning.
The four-day trip, which took us through the Windward Passage between Cuba and Haiti, was uneventful from a sailing point of view, but climactic in terms of our crew relationships. Only a brief entry in my log refers to the incident:
Mickey refused to obey order to steer by standing in cockpit while boat was passing, so relieved him of duty.
The actual happening was somewhat less dry. In the afternoon while Mickey was on watch and I was below, I could hear a boat’s engines. I went up, and found Mickey lounging on the starboard side of the cockpit, steering with his foot. Overhauling us rapidly from astern was a motor vessel, probably a coastal trader, somewhat larger than we were. I spoke to Mickey.
“There’s a boat coming,” I said, indicating aft. He paid no attention, and did not move. “Mickey, stand up and steer.”
No movement. I repeated the order. Mickey said, without moving, “Why?”
I answered, “Because it’s dangerous and also it doesn’t look good.” No move. “Are you going to stand up and steer?”
“This is a yacht and I don’t have to.”
“Are you going to stand up and steer?”