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The Island Part Two
Crossing turbulent deep waters into the spooky world of Hell Island
The boat trip across from the main island, St Antoinette, to what I would come to call Hell Island, was uneventful.
The boat belonged to a family of boatmen who had served the needs of the island for decades.
If it wasn’t picking up passengers to transfer one of the other islands, it was out on a trip to the lighthouse where holidaymakers could see oily seals strewn out across the jagged sea washed rocks.
Sometimes the boat was used by the police on the main island to carry out surprise raids on the neighboring island pubs and bars to make sure that they were observing the law in terms of opening hours.
This was something of a waste of time since the boatman the police hired would immediately alert the pub owners he was on his way with the men in blue. By the time the police got there the pub was empty and closed
Onboard with me for the short run across the channel that ran between the islands, were a small group of no more than half a dozen other passengers. The sea was as turbulent as it could be which was prescient of matters to come. Fortunately I've never suffered from seasickness, though one or two of my fellow passengers looked a little queasy.
