NAME?”
Krishna shoved his hands in his pocket and appeared oblivious. “Whose name?”
“Don’t play the ass,” Dutchie said. “Tell me the girl that have you looking so lost, or I go make you sit with George and pat he peel up back all the way to Tobago.”
Krishna shook his head, laughing. “All right!” He squinted against the sun. “She name Vimla.”
Mischief twinkled in Dutchie’s black eyes. “What? I can’t hear you over the engine noise, you squeaking like a little mouse!”
Krishna stared at Dutchie, incredulous. “It seem like
you
going deaf!” He filled his lungs and yelled. “The girl’s name is VIMLA NARINE!”
Stillness fell over the boat. Krishna looked at Dutchie. Dutchie looked back at Krishna, grinning. He had killed the engine just as Krishna yelled Vimla’s name. The other passengers on the lower level of the boat turned to stare. Krishna blushed again, deeper this time.
Dutchie clapped his hands. “Thank you for your attention,” he said, turning his back on Krishna and taking three strides to the glass bottom of the boat. “We have arrived at the Coral Gardens. Have a seat.”
A froth of bubbles gathered in the corners of the glass as
The Reverie
drifted quietly over the waves. Through the blue-green water a sprawl of colourful coral came into view. Dutchie peered over the heads of his passengers, one foot on the bench, and named the plant life oscillating in the deep.
Krishna admired the rambling orange elkhorn coral and the intricate yellow network of brain coral. A parrot fish glided by in a whir of colours, a school of bright-blue chromis flitted like a single entity through a forest of antler-likestaghorn coral. George cried, “An angelfish!” And everyone leaned to the left to watch a hungry angelfish feeding off the algae stuck to the bottom of the boat.
Krishna could not hide his enthusiasm. Soon he began to point marine life out to Dutchie. “Is that star coral? Look, a grouper. That fish hideous, boy! And watch over there—is a manta ray! Watch how he flying under the water.” And to Dutchie’s delight, Krishna was right each time.
When Dutchie announced that they were in a good spot for snorkelling, the eager passengers abandoned the benches and pulled on their snorkelling gear and life jackets. The mother of the young boy asked Dutchie to help her adjust the straps on her life jacket. Dutchie tugged at the straps around the front, jostling the woman’s large breasts and trying to hide his pleasure behind a curtain of dreadlocks.
“Mommy, you need a bigger life jacket,” her son said, peering through his binoculars at Dutchie and his mother.
The woman reached out and hushed her son with a hand to his shoulder again. “This one’s fine—right, Captain?” She gazed into Dutchie’s face, her lips curved in a salacious smile. “I just need to shimmy a bit.” And shimmy she did.
Krishna chuckled as Dutchie’s expression dissolved into flagrant desire. The woman helped her son down the ladder into the water, and she slipped in after him, as lithe as a mermaid. Dutchie motioned to Krishna to join him at the bow. “You vexed, Boss?”
Krishna shrugged. “What I go vex for?”
Dutchie nodded. “Good. So tell me”—he wiped the beads of perspiration from his hairline—“why you really going Tobago?”
Krishna shrugged, staring after the snorkellers. “My father sending me Tobago to study.”
Dutchie’s eyes bulged. “To study!” And then they crinkled at the corners as he laughed, one hand on his chest. “Is only one thing you studying while you in Tobago and that’s Vimla. Let me guess.” He leaned his forearms on the railing. “You left she back in Trinidad.”
Krishna rubbed the stubble at his chin. “Yeah.” It was hard to hear someone else say it: he had abandoned her.
Dutchie cupped his hands around his mouth. “George, don’t swim too far out. I don’t feel like playing hero today!” He turned back to Krishna. “That
Krishna shoved his hands in his pocket and appeared oblivious. “Whose name?”
“Don’t play the ass,” Dutchie said. “Tell me the girl that have you looking so lost, or I go make you sit with George and pat he peel up back all the way to Tobago.”
Krishna shook his head, laughing. “All right!” He squinted against the sun. “She name Vimla.”
Mischief twinkled in Dutchie’s black eyes. “What? I can’t hear you over the engine noise, you squeaking like a little mouse!”
Krishna stared at Dutchie, incredulous. “It seem like
you
going deaf!” He filled his lungs and yelled. “The girl’s name is VIMLA NARINE!”
Stillness fell over the boat. Krishna looked at Dutchie. Dutchie looked back at Krishna, grinning. He had killed the engine just as Krishna yelled Vimla’s name. The other passengers on the lower level of the boat turned to stare. Krishna blushed again, deeper this time.
Dutchie clapped his hands. “Thank you for your attention,” he said, turning his back on Krishna and taking three strides to the glass bottom of the boat. “We have arrived at the Coral Gardens. Have a seat.”
A froth of bubbles gathered in the corners of the glass as
The Reverie
drifted quietly over the waves. Through the blue-green water a sprawl of colourful coral came into view. Dutchie peered over the heads of his passengers, one foot on the bench, and named the plant life oscillating in the deep.
Krishna admired the rambling orange elkhorn coral and the intricate yellow network of brain coral. A parrot fish glided by in a whir of colours, a school of bright-blue chromis flitted like a single entity through a forest of antler-likestaghorn coral. George cried, “An angelfish!” And everyone leaned to the left to watch a hungry angelfish feeding off the algae stuck to the bottom of the boat.
Krishna could not hide his enthusiasm. Soon he began to point marine life out to Dutchie. “Is that star coral? Look, a grouper. That fish hideous, boy! And watch over there—is a manta ray! Watch how he flying under the water.” And to Dutchie’s delight, Krishna was right each time.
When Dutchie announced that they were in a good spot for snorkelling, the eager passengers abandoned the benches and pulled on their snorkelling gear and life jackets. The mother of the young boy asked Dutchie to help her adjust the straps on her life jacket. Dutchie tugged at the straps around the front, jostling the woman’s large breasts and trying to hide his pleasure behind a curtain of dreadlocks.
“Mommy, you need a bigger life jacket,” her son said, peering through his binoculars at Dutchie and his mother.
The woman reached out and hushed her son with a hand to his shoulder again. “This one’s fine—right, Captain?” She gazed into Dutchie’s face, her lips curved in a salacious smile. “I just need to shimmy a bit.” And shimmy she did.
Krishna chuckled as Dutchie’s expression dissolved into flagrant desire. The woman helped her son down the ladder into the water, and she slipped in after him, as lithe as a mermaid. Dutchie motioned to Krishna to join him at the bow. “You vexed, Boss?”
Krishna shrugged. “What I go vex for?”
Dutchie nodded. “Good. So tell me”—he wiped the beads of perspiration from his hairline—“why you really going Tobago?”
Krishna shrugged, staring after the snorkellers. “My father sending me Tobago to study.”
Dutchie’s eyes bulged. “To study!” And then they crinkled at the corners as he laughed, one hand on his chest. “Is only one thing you studying while you in Tobago and that’s Vimla. Let me guess.” He leaned his forearms on the railing. “You left she back in Trinidad.”
Krishna rubbed the stubble at his chin. “Yeah.” It was hard to hear someone else say it: he had abandoned her.
Dutchie cupped his hands around his mouth. “George, don’t swim too far out. I don’t feel like playing hero today!” He turned back to Krishna. “That
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