By day, there was something sensual about the warm wind and the dazzling colors that made you want to rip off your clothes and soak up the sun. Indeed, all around us, on boats and beaches, women were topless. Next door, on a Moorings 413, a naked man showered on the stern. June, rarely bothered by a lack of social conventions, said he looked pretty good. Later, he accidentally dropped a bucket overboard and had to swim for it, which meant another naked freshwater shower. Just showing off, I thought to myself.
After a sound sleep and a lazy breakfast, we took the dinghy ashore to Baradel Island, in the middle of the horseshoe, and ran into New Yorkers Bob and Jenna, from the charter yacht Satyrus, doing the downwind run from St. Vincent to Grenada. Everywhere we anchored, a bumboat hovered in the background, ready to pounce as soon as we were settled. But down here in Grenada and SVG, we found them not as insistent as those in the islands farther north. They provided a service--ice, fresh bread, oysters, you name it--and they'd fetch the request in their brightly colored boats with such names as Let Them Talk, Seasoning, Desperado, Shark Attack, and Never Give Up.