Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, 1865 Saturday dawned sunny and warm, but the wind was piping up. With my morning coffee in hand, I stood on the porch and stared out at the white caps that were chasing from one shoreline to the other across the Sea of Abaco. ‘That’s a pretty good chop,’ Paul said behind me. ‘I don’t think we’ll be taking Pro Bono over to Marsh Harbour today.’ I agreed. The thought of powering an eighteen-foot outboard into the teeth of the wind, slamming into the waves – thwack, thwack, thwack – taking spray across the bow until water was ankle deep in the cockpit, made me shudder. At eleven fifteen, Paul tuned to Channel 68 and hailed the ferry. We waited for the boat as usual at the end of Windswept’s dock. The Donnie X was bang on time, with Brent Albury at the wheel. We watched, marveling, as Brent reversed engines and backed the big vessel slowly up to the dock where it idled, gently kissing the pilings. We hopped aboard. I plopped down gratefully next to my husband on one of Donnie’s vinyl-covered benches, joining a group of passengers that swelled to thirteen as we stopped for pickups at Hawksbill and Man-O-War Cays.
