HMS Egmont, when dismasted on 11 October near the Island of St Lucia – 1780 (Wikipedia)
Roddy Bane shakes his head as the weatherman
announces that a hurricane watch is in effect for the
islands. His wife Sheila-Anne is seated on a settee across
the room; his sixteen year old daughter, as beautiful as a
morning sun, is standing by the front door. Mr. Bane is
absentmindedly twirling a glass filled with rum.
“Can’t he find something proper to tell people?” he
mutters. “Good Lord, I’ve lived all my life here and no
hurricane ever…”
“Aw, won’t you hush up!” interrupts his wife who is
trying to make sense out of the weatherman’s
predictions.
“This is serious you know, they say this is a dangerous
storm,” she adds making a gesture with her hands to
silence him
“A dangerous storm…Bah” retorts Mr. Bane.
“Nothing but a little…”
“Well listen nuh,” chides Sheila-Anne, her eyes glued
to the TV set as the man on the television points out the
current coordinates.
“I wonder what’s it like to go through a hurricane,”
says Tarah, almost to herself, flicking a handful of her
dark-brown tresses over her right shoulder as she peers
out into the fading light.
“Not a very nice thing,” responds her mother, who
saunters towards the front door where Tarah is standing.
“I can remember my mother telling me that in 1935 a bad
hurricane hit Dominica and plenty people did get killed,”
she says nodding her head sagely.
“All this meteorological stuff……Bah!” interjects Mr.
Bane. “Never heard anyone talk about a hurricane in…”
he leans back into his favourite armchair frowning.
“Papa God, make this storm pass us,” utters Sheila-
Anne as she quickly makes the sign of the cross.
“All you not hearing,” ejaculates Roddy. “All you and
dat TV is two of a kind, I wish dat hurricane would come
for true and let me hear you talk bout storm coming.
“Roddy!” exclaims Mrs. Bane, her teeth clenched and
eyes glowering. “How can you say dat?” she spurts
Mr. Bane doesn’t reply, instead he leans forward
reaching for the centre table where the bottle of D-Special
rum, newly opened, is standing. He tops his glass with
some more of the stuff. Without much of a thought he
dumps the contents into his mouth, swirls it around, then
swallows with a gulp. The stinging beverage makes his
eyes twinkle with redness, as his face contorts with a
hideous grimace. He coughs.
ALBERT WILLIAMS Reporting 