A boat to the Island
Chapter 12. The Atlantic Coast and its Caribbean pirates
Borda Gardens, Cuernavaca, Morelos, Mexico
The plane tied down, a taxi drove us the short distance from the farm to the port. The port called San Jorge is a busy port. It handles all the traffic between Rivas City and the Island. Additionally, many cargo boats come in from the Atlantic and from Granada. There it was possible to board a ferry to the Ometepe Island, hardly fourteen kilometers away. After riding in the plane, the boat suggested a huge slow turtle, but it was fun!
While we boarded, I watched the port activity. The dock-hands walked to and fro, busy at their labor. There were plenty of big and small boats, some docking and others leaving port. Anchored to the quay, was a ferry named The Commandant that was ready to leave, at any moment. To board the ship we walked down a long wooden plank. It extended from the dock to the ship like a wooden bridge and moved with each passing wave. I couldn’t rid myself of the notion of walking the plank, as if it was a movie! I was in the best of moods. I had been on small crafts on different occasions before, but never on such a big boat. The ferry carried passengers, containers full of cargo, cars, and even trucks. Some sailors evidently rode on bicycles, for there were various bikes also aboard the ship, firmly tied to the railing. The sailors let go of the knots that held fast to the dock and slowly the boat began to move out of the port.
Grandfather and I went to look for the pilot’s cabin; we found it on the upper deck. Grandfather called that part of the boat ‘fore’ and I called it simply the front of the boat. The pilot was a heavyweight, dark-skinned man, with a grayish beard that reminded me of a goat. As it turned out, he was an old friend of Grandfather’s. What a surprise! Difficult for me to imagine that Grandfather didn’t have friends all over Nicaragua! The pilot and captain received him with a big grin, a hug and a shot of rum, for the heat, or so he said. As he welcomed me aboard with another of his generous smiles, Grandfather introduced me.
“My name is Captain Zacarias Eugenio Hernandez Flores. I’m here to serve God, his Blessed Mother and, especially, all the charming and beautiful granddaughters that my friends climb aboard with. Welcome to The Commandant!” He spoke with a warm and friendly accent which I found quite appealing. As he gave me his enormous, course-skinned hand, he also bestowed a warm endearing smile upon me.
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