FIRST LIGHT

It has been a soup-day here - windy, 25+kts, and cold, not even reaching 65 degrees. The rains have been steady and drenching - 5" worth this past day. After coffee and Chris Parker's weather (during which he failed to note our wetness) I spent the morning toiling over a hot stove churning out some tasty smoked salmon chowder - comfort food in so many ways.

Mid-day found the rain abated but the chill wind blowing just as strongly as before. Since we'd already tidied up the boat for our expected guests, we chose, rather than taking the dingy across the white-capped bay, to walk around and into town to pick up the last of our list - a small bucket to replace the old ratty ones we tossed when we cleaned the boat for sale last year, waterless soap and another bottle of Jameson ... exciting adventures! Bahamians, I surmise, must lack an affection for scotch and whisky. Only one of the three establishments licensed to sell liquor carried much of a selection, but we persevered and came home well stocked, if not a little tired; it's 3 miles one way from here to there and we're out of the habit of walking.

The cat finds these blows, and perhaps the cold, very exhilarating! As we sit drinking coffee, listening to the morning "news", or sipping a beer in the shelter of the windscreen she cannot be contained but races back and forth topside, leaps to the dodger then up to the boom rattling the boat like an earthquake. She'll bound out to preen against the topping lift (the line from the top of the mast that holds the end of the boom up), then slip back to chew on the lazy jacks (an array of small lines on either side of the boom rigged to contain the mainsail when it is being lowered) like they're floss.

So far she has not tried to jump ship again. Harv and I can stroll down to the Jib Room Restaurant at the head of our dock, maybe 100 meters away and she'll sit resolutely on the coach roof or dodger and watch us until we return, at which time she serenades us in a berating tone like we've missed curfew. For example, having been gone all day in town, it's HOWLing outside but Ms. B won't come down to the warmth of the cabin with us. Instead she's sitting, toes tucked under her on the folded cockpit cushions, being buffeted by the chill wind and dampened by the drizzle. When we call she turns a cold shoulder. Ah well, she'll reconsider eventually. Sometime past midnight she'll jump on our bed and snuggle down between us purring loudly repentant of her behavior ... or just seeking warmth. Who knows, she's a cat... a rather cold cat at the moment.