The Yachting Year 2018

130 | THE YACHTING YEAR 2018

B

oat racing is the national sport on the tiny

Caribbean island of Anguilla. Born from

competition between engineless cargo schooners

beating home from the Dominican Republic, today it is a

serious sport raced in open sloops. Boatbuilders are held

in high regard, their skills oen handed father to son, and

rock star status is guaranteed for the fastest of the eet.

Our little ga ketch was anchored in Anguilla’s Road Bay

when I noticed two trailered race boats appear on the

beach, 28 in length, painted like a fresh box of crayons.

First one was dipped in the water, then the other. We were

months ahead of Easter, when racing begins in earnest,

and long past August Monday, when the entire island

turns out in force. Why they were there was a mystery. e

following day, curiosity hauled me ashore to watch crew

hustling gear and ballast aboard. More came to raise the

50 masts, set up rigs and bend on sweeping mains that

downwind give the appearance of butteries in ight. “Is

there going to be a race?” I asked with expectation.

One of the riggers replied: “No. No race. We takin’ a fella

on he’lass sail.”

An anniversary or retirement? Spreading ashes? But the

story I learned was far more. e sailor was Albert

Hughes, known locally as Belto. His father owned Light

and Peace and Belto sailed her over 50 years, oen as

captain. He had a hand in building, maintaining and

nancing this favourite of the eet. e second boat, De

Wizard, was also a Hughes family vessel, built through the

eorts of Belto.

Belto passed away aged 82. He would be honoured by

the country at a national funeral for his service as an

Elected Representative, Minister and Parliamentary

Secretary, having served his West End community and

country for 27 years. His nephew, Earl Hughes, knew Belto

longed for one more sail.

MAIN PHOTO: the

boats are readied

TOP RIGHT: The

con is carried to

the quay

BY JAN HEIN

TAKING HIS FINAL SAIL

Time had slipped away, along with his uncle’s life, but

there was still a chance to make it happen. e following

aernoon, a crowd gathered near the pier. A hearse backed

onto the beach and crew, wearing Light and Peace shirts,

came forward as pallbearers. e door opened, revealing a

boat-shaped con, painted to replicate Beltos’ beloved

vessel. e casket was carried down the pier, stern rst by

tradition, and placed aboard a motorboat that would

escort the yachts.

Pallbearers then hustled down the beach to the waiting

boats, which were lling fast. Kids and women were

carried out, beers were opened and before long everyone

was aboard, the jibs were busted loose and they were o –

West End bound.

e crowd onshore toasted Belto. Laughter erupted

along with sailing stories. Tears lled eyes watching the

three vessels shrink in size. I knew nothing about this

man, yet I knew without a doubt how much he was loved,

that Anguilla was his heart and sailing was in his blood.

Aer the boats returned and the casket was placed in the

hearse, I saw boatbuilder Devon ‘Beggar’ Daniels. “You got

to come to my yard,” he said. “See what I make. It de boat

dat go on top.”

Beggar collected us the next day, hours before the

funeral, and as we entered his boatyard, there sat a 7

miniature replica of Light and Peace. It had taken a week to

build, setting up the frames, laying up tiny planks, nished

in minute detail including paint, graphics and numbered

ballast stones glued in the bottom.

“It go on top de grave,” Beggar explained. “Like a wreath.”

Never before had a wreath looked like a boat, nor had

any sailor been given such an extraordinary tribute. It was,

to my eyes, the nest salute to a man of the sea. One of

hundreds of condolences said it best: “RIP Mr Hughes.

You have nished the race.”

TYY4 Sternpost.indd 130 04/12/2017 17:39