Profile
Cayman Pride : Part VIII- TheReturn of The Goldfield
"A Good Time" leads to tragedy
Since there has been a time to heal, thisstory of the return voyage of The Goldfield can be told. Beinga witness to some events and researching through interviews withthe principal characters, I am reporting as evenly as possiblea very emotionally charged second part of the Return Of The Goldfield.
I had arrived on Grand Cayman to get onestory in a book I was writing about contemporary working sailingcultures in the Caribbean Basin. Writing for the Nor'Wester Magazineand later the Caymanian Compass provided me with shared knowledgeand led me to find a whole bunch of people in one little spotwho welcomed me almost like family.
My one story had already become a few bythe time The Goldfield had come onto the horizon with the possibilityof returning to Grand Cayman. Feeling the electric power of thatpossibility amongst the average person on the street proved irresistibleto a sailing journalist and I was caught up in the almost joyouspride that everybody took in the hope of seeing her again.
At that time, 1983, people still gave directionsby the points of the compass or to windward and to leeward. Thegreat sailors that I had met sized you up very cautiously andvery carefully. Captain McSherry Ebanks, Captain Cadian Ebanks,Captain Keith Tibbetts, Vandyke Bush, Captain Marvin Ebanks. Intheir gaze, I felt I had to prove myself in my mere thirteen yearsof sailing. I was in my mid-thirties and had trained myself beforearriving by writing for a few years as a columnist and featurewriter for periodicals in West Marine and San Francisco. I hadbeen sailing and voluntarily working on only classic sailing vessels.I worked on glassfibre sailing vessels.
I was covering The Goldfield's return voyagefrom Seattle for the Caymanian Compass. A legend was coming hometo materialise as a symbol of what the Caymanian was and is "Therewas no other more important news than the return of The Goldfield."
After an interview with Mr. Charles Adams,the Chairperson of The Goldfield Foundation after Mr. Kent Eldemire'sresignation, I was invited to dinner at the Adams' home whereI was impressed with the urgency with which the project of thereturn needed to be made. Somehow, I was volunteered to go andto represent The Goldfield Foundation.
After a careful assessment of the vesseland crew in Puerto Vallarta, I had returned to Grand Cayman withPierre LaMarche, a sympathetic crewmember, to raise funds by showingslides and organising speeches around the Island. Caymanians volunteeredto return with us and crew the vessel back. Two skippers volunteeredto take command of her. This was denied by The Goldfield Foundation.I felt that Charles Adams just wished to keep the delivery assimple as possible and the crew that was aboard was what theypurported themselves to be ... experienced.
When I arrived back in Vallarta and foundthe youngest member of the crew abandoned in a hotel room, mydejection at not being able to bring back Caymanians turned intoanger at leaving this child alone and sick. We sent him back toSeattle and Pierre left by plane to Acapulco, where the crew hadtaken her. I came by a slow bus in an attempt to control my anger.
Upon arrival at the Club de Yates de AcapulcoI was escorted to the Manager's Office. After a formal introductionto her lineage and present respected status in the country andthe fact that eighty percent of the wealth of Mexico were in themembership, Senora Estrada, the Manager, told me of The Goldfieldcrew's disruptive presence at the Club. According to her accounting,the crew had run up a $700. bar bill within the two days of theirstay. They had informed her that all their bills would be paidby me upon arrival, including the berth rental.
Mrs. Estrada opined that the membershipfelt that the crew needed more control and was hoping that I wouldbe that controlling entity. She asked for my word that they wouldbehave themselves as gentlemen in the future. She said that theyhad been found smoking marijuana on the docks, had brought insuspicious people for swims in the pool, which resulted in boisterousparties, beer being poured into the waters, as well as vomit andother movements of the body. Given the nature of the voyage shedid not wish to turn The Goldfield away but the crew had to bekept in control.
The first thing that greeted me boarding The Goldfield was a poorlyshaved stranger laying in a pool of liquid with a needle layingnext to his arm. I roused him and told him to get off the shipnow. The crew was in the galley cabin sitting in gloomy attitudeswith the old persistent question of how much money did I comewith being interjected to the conversation.
Bradlee Johnson and I went to a Dairy Queenacross the street from the Club de Yates to sort out what hadto be done from this point on. I had been given less than $1000.???to get The Goldfield back to the Cayman Islands. Again, hopefully,more money would be forthcoming, but the message was to get thevessel moving now. Mr. Johnson balked on this ultimatum and aftermany telephone conversations with Mr. Adams, went on a strike,stating that they would not move The Goldfield unless more moneywas found. I backed that idea.
To me the crew did not seem to have thecapacity to hustle and get the funding to even exist in Acapulcolet alone move on to less wealthier ports further South. We feltthat another $2500. could see us to Panama. By the time another$1000. arrived the first $1000. was gone and I was selling 'SaveThe Goldfield' t-shirts through a friend's business for our foodmoney. The Acapulco public was great in their assistance. Evenat the Club de Yates, after a few rides on the great schooner,the members were more forgiving of The Goldfield's crew.
The morale onboard was generally low. Thecrew was extremely loyal to Brad Johnson, who still championedthe motto, 'The Only Thing We Take Seriously Aboard is Havinga Good Time'. It was impossible to work with the First Mate, whocontinually slacked the shroud (side stays supporting the masts)far too much because he had read somewhere that gaff riggers shouldhave their shrouds slack. This was a problem that was to provedisastrous later. It was impossible to make the crew paint thehull or clean as part of a routine. The Goldfield was lookingmore and more seedy, but we were able to have a survival cashflow due to the t-shirt sales and restaurant charters, mainlythrough my friend, Ondina's, connections. But the inactivity broughton a steady morale slide.
I eventually moved off to assist in Ondina'sbeachware and our t-shirt sales business. We were feeding thecrew and they seemed more isolating of me. For my side I neverfelt to be a real part of the crew and did not rule out race asa factor. None of the crew had any experience around black orbrown people, and were quite demeaning of the Mexicans and, probablywhen I was not around, also of me.
We eventually secured a contract with afilm company to utilise The Goldfield in a proposed pirate movieto be filmed in Zihuatenejo, about a hundred miles North of Acapulco.We had a beautiful sail up with The Goldfield clocking a verycomfortable steady 16 knots loosely close-hauled. It was probablyone of the most beautiful sails I have ever had. Before we leftAcapulco, The Goldfield Foundation got us the word that they weregoing to send two representatives to Zihuatenejo to see what exactlythe hold up was.
Mr. Heber Arch, whose father had workedon the construction of the schooner, and Captain Paul Hurlston,a retired seafarer, met us at the dock in Zihuatenejo and wereprivileged to see a great piece of seamanship on the part of TheGoldfield's crew in stern docking the vessel without the use ofthe engine (which was not working). It was the best piece of sailwork that I had ever seen them do. It definitely did not showa crew who could not sail as I had been reporting to Mr. Adamsby telephone. But, as I had already found out, Brad Johnson wasa very lucky man.
Heber was impressed and they put on theshow. They coiled down the lines, swabbed the decks, gave outwork assignments like it was a normal thing. Everybody workedmerrily and my mouth hung open in astonishment.
When the discussion came up about replacingthe crew with Caymanians there seemed no reason, since these guyslooked so able and were so friendly. I protested the sham butcould provide no proof of normality. I finally said what KentEldemire had said months back, if they stay... I go.
The decision went to them and I resigned,going back to Acapulco to take up residence.
To be continued...
Next: "Wreck, Salvage and Sinking"of The Goldfield