Chapter 4: The Captain’s Table

Ricqui got off in Aruba, and not sooner. Was I mean to her? She obviously was not on board with my plans and not interested in any opinions differing from her own. Who needs her? Her husband. Joe moved on to Puerto Rico. They reconciled over the phone. I bought her a plane ticket to Puerto Rico so she can rejoin her husband.

Meany me.

A short hop over to Curacao allowed me to do some offshore banking. The balances in my foundations accounts have continued to grow from donations. Who is able to or would want to donate, in a country that has economically collapsed under military control? Why are my accounts not frozen or eliminated? My only possible explanation, is the accounts are watched and dangled as bait because there exists an underground resistance with funds to donate.

Whatever. The balances were transferred through a complicated route through a sequence of banks in numerous countries and finally into a secret account I own in Curacao. All my assets together, in account balances and cash, total more than a million dollars. Tax free. The IRS is probably after me too. My tax free status is only my own determination, not to pay any taxes.

Exploring the waterfront and the waterfront bars, I picked up on lots of shipping information. One of my sources is an expat Venezuelan.

Gentleman’s name is,... well, maybe I better not say. Call him Juan.

Capitan Juan has a small coastal freighter based and working out of Brazil, but flagged in Suriname. He is the actual majority owner in the ship but hides legal vulnerability under a Brazilian corporation, shared with his brother-in-law who is a lawyer and the minority partner. Juan married a Brazilian wife after escaping with his ship from Venezuela’s Marxist regime takeover.

Over dinner and drinks, my treat, we discussed shipping my boat to Manaus. Not that I have a strong interest in Manaus, but it’s an important Amazon River port about halfway up the river, so a good hub to branch out and explore from.

Capitan Juan disagrees. Juan suggests I base in English speaking Guyana, next to Suriname. Good river ports, stable government, and diverse population. Many flavors of girls, he assures me and laughs.

And, it just so happens, he says, his next scheduled port of call is Georgetown, Guyana. But why don’t I just sail there myself? Good question. Shipping my boat was of interest to avoid contemplating a very long difficult solo trip. Georgetown, I can probably manage that. A thousand nautical miles would take a week, roughly speaking.

On the other hand, Juan explains, he would enjoy my company if I wanted him to tote my boat for me. To entice me, he is willing to rent me a container, and give me a reduced rate on the freight and fare. Sounds good, more than fair, but...

There is a further complication. My dogs. Juan agrees that is a complication but not insurmountable. My dogs will need portable kennels and shipped in the hold, and I will need to tend them daily.