Not long ago, one of Capt Boxter's brothers arrived to ask for money for gas and the use of the boat. Money is a regular request. Permission to use the boat involves asking me; so, I asked why?
Earlier that morning while giving his boss a ride to another caye, the brother had spotted what he believed to be some cocaine floating. He didn't stop (his boss would not approve) but he marked the spot in his memory, (no GPS on board) noted the wind and water currents, and quickly returned to get his brother's help in searching for the floating "white gold." People support entire towns on such finds.
It was a beautiful day and I thought such a hunt would be fun. I quickly emailed my two sons who love to hear about my adventures (but who are slow to respond). I changed into a bathing suit and off we went. We followed the currents, explored deserted mangrove islands – those branches are hard to climb – circled islands, searched every path we could imagine. Nothing. Not a sign of anything. Not even a floating plastic bottle. The brothers were disappointed but I had a great tan and was happy for any excuse to be on the water.
Waiting for me were two emails – one from each son – each a variation of this: " Ma, you have no idea what that is! Don't go. Are you crazy? Email me as soon as you are home."
