I wrote this tale down back in 2008 while I was waiting for my new work permit to come through on the island of Bermuda. It's a continuation of the story about Bob the Builder and his adventures on the island of Mustique.

Bob the Builder and Macaroni Beach

Sunday was the only day off for myself and my crew while on the private Island of Mustique in the south Caribbean, and we relished our R&R time at Macaroni Beach. The cook at the estate my crew lived in on Mustique would make a picnic lunch for us the night before, so with that and a cooler full of beer we would head off to the beach for a day of swimming, snorkeling, body surfing and just lazing in the sun. The same sun that had baked our brains out at work was now a pleasure when lying on the soft sands of Macaroni Beach.
As soon as you enter the small, sand parking lot at the beach the first thing you see is a huge tree with strange bark that nothing else grows under - The Manchineel Tree. This is the most toxic tree in the world, exuding an acid that will burn your skin and clothes, especially if it is raining, as the rain washes the acid from the leaves onto anything below. If you get this acid in your eyes you will be permanently blinded and just resting your hand on the trunk will raise blisters immediately on your hand. The small apples it produces will kill you if you eat them, burning you from the inside out, there are dangers even in paradise it would seem..
Mustique is a private island of the rich and famous, workers from the surrounding islands () are not allowed on Macaroni Beach but the private owners of the island will tolerate the skilled expat workers () that they need to build and maintain their luxurious estates. This was back in the late 1990's when apartheid was supposed to be just a bad memory from humanity's racist past but obviously these rich cats hadn't heard the news. A person of colour caught on the s Only beach would be immediately expelled from the island, sent back to their home island of St. Vincent, this was the rule and you never saw a person on the beach unless they were accompanying a person with privileges there, such as Security or a servant. Except for the s Only policy, the beach is exceptionally beautiful, pristine nature with powdery, sand and a small barrier reef that stunts the waves and makes swimming safe - or so I thought.
We had been picnicking and swimming at Macaroni Beach for a couple of months and it had become the crew's special retreat from the trials of working in a tropical climate. (malaria, heatstroke, congo snakes, fire ants, etc.) One Sunday, after swimming for several hours we decided to break for lunch and just sit back and enjoy the scenery, the beach was completely empty that day except for my crew. Imagine our surprise when a guy in a wet suit, snorkel and mask popped out of the surf right in front of us; where had he come from?
The skindiver had a speargun in his hand and he was lugging a stringer line full of fish he had speared, as he pulled off his mask I could see that it was my local foreman Ninja. Ninja had become a good buddy of mine since he saved my butt from being bitten by a Congo Snake but he was as as the Ace of Spades which meant he was subject to expulsion from the island if he should be caught on Macaroni Beach by the island security guards. I put down my beer and walked up to Ninja who was struggling to haul in the stringer line full of fish.
"Ninja, Ow you doin' Brudda" I said. (I had picked up a bit of the local patois which made understanding each other easier)
"Kewl Bob!, You Ai-ree?" replied Ninja
"Kewl Bro!" we gave each other the island greeting which was fist to fist with the thumbs up and the thumbs touching lightly, instead of shaking hands. ('when in Rome do as the Romans do' I always say)
"Nice string of fish Mon, where you catch so much? I asked
"On dee beeg reef" said Ninja pointing towards the barrier reef a hundred yards off of Macaroni Beach.
Ninja started taking off his flippers so I took the spear gun and the stringer of fish from him and headed back to the palapa where my guys were finishing off lunch "Come over for a Heinie" I said and motioned to the table under the palapa. (Heineken - the most popular beer in the Caribbean) Part of me was being sociable and part of me was trying to get Ninja out of sight as I didn't want him to lose his job over a stupid racist policy.
Ninja would never turn down a beer and free beer was too good to pass up, so he grabbed up his fins and mask then wandered over. I cracked open a cold one for him and he downed it in one guzzle, spearfishing is thirsty work and he had obviously been busy at it all morning from the number of fish he had on the stringer. There were fish of all kinds with holes from the spear in them on his chain and the guys laid the stringer across the table to admire his catch of parrotfish, grunts, damselfish and snapper plus a few more I didn't recognize. I asked Ninja "whad U gunna do wid all dem' fish, mate?", there was no way he could eat them all and I knew they had no refrigeration at the local workers camp where he lived.
"Sell dem, Bob" was his reply followed by a pearly grin.
Of course Ninja was happy, he'd had a very profitable day by the looks of gs. Local workers who had bad luck fishing would be buying their fish from Ninja today. Imported food is ridiculously expensive here so most of the locals live on rice and whatever they can catch on land or from the sea. All my local guys had fishing spots that they guarded jealously as a good spot meant protein in their diet that they couldn't afford otherwise. (they would also snare manicoos and eat them - basically a Caribbean a opossom)
None of the locals would eat the tortoises that were all over the island as they believed they ate the human waste left behind when the locals used the bushes which was often, as there were only limited latrine facilities on the island for local use.
I cracked open another beer for Ninja and then broached the subject that was on everybody's mind "arn't you a liddle worry dat dee security catch you, Ninja?"
"Dey Devils!" Ninja snorted "Ninja don' care wad day say!".
I could see by the way Ninja was watching the entrance to the parking area that he did care of course, he supported six members of his family back on St. Vincent with his wages and it would be a terrible blow to the family if he lost his job, but he had his pride. Ninja told my guys the island name for each of the fish while he finished his second beer and we joked around a little with him but I could see he wanted to make himself scarce so I said to the guys "Who wants to go for a dip in the pool?"
Charlie, who had been on Mustique the est and knew the score, saw where I was going with this and said "That's a great idea, last one in buys the beers!" and took off for the water with the rest of the crew following suit. I started to follow but Ninja grabbed my arm and said to me "Bob, you be real careful swimmin' dere, Ole Man Shark live on dee reef" and pointed to the barrier reef with real concern on his face.
I laughed and said "Come on Ninja, we never see any sharks here". (I was ever the naive guy)
Ninja didn't let go of my arm but reiterated " Shark, Bob, he berry bad, sumbuddy hook him in dee side and lead a scar on 'im, Be Careful, Bob".
"How is this shark" I asked remembering my incident with the congo snake, when I had foolishly ignored Ninja's warning.
E' be 12 feet, easeee! said Ninja "Ole Man Shark a Tiger"
Now I knew Tiger Sharks had a reputation for being maneaters so Ninja had my undivided attention, but I was still a little sceptical.
"Ninja, you say there's a 12 foot Tiger Shark that lives out at the reef but you just went spearfishing there".
Jah, Bob, fishin' real good on dee reef" said Ninja with a smile holding up his stringer full of fish.
"Aren't you afraid of spearing fish with a Tiger Shark swimming around with you?"
"No Man!, Dat Tiger be fraid a Ninja and his speargun" said Ninja incredulously. "Ole Man Shark com roun' and I point me speargun ad him an he Go 'Way" said Ninja with a laugh "Ee know I giv 'im de poom poom!(shoot him)[don't use this term by the way, it means other things too]
Now I had already noticed that Ninja's gear was pretty worn out, probably scrounged from a passing cruising yacht,(it would have cost him 6 months wages to buy that gear new) and I had also noticed that his speargun had only 1 spear and both had seen better days.
"What do you do if the shark comes around after you have already speared a fish Ninja?" I asked "You only have one spear".
Ninja smiled at me and tapped his head with his finger "Ole Man Shark stupid, Bob" said Ninja "I point de speargun ad him wid no spear, he no know dee difference" then Ninja laughed like this was the gest joke in the world and I laughed with him.
With a final look of caution to me, Ninja slipped into the bushes and was gone like the ninja he was named for. I sat the rest of the afternoon out and bought the beers.
I told the guys what Ninja had said but they expressed disbelief, I knew him well enough by now to trust his word. We still went to Macaroni Beach every Sunday after that but I didn't go out very deep and I didn't stay in very .
A couple of months later, some of the fisherman from the island of Bequia across the strait from Mustique, caught a 14 foot Tiger Shark off of the reef at Macaroni Beach it had a scar down one side.