Alone at the beach

We spent the next week working our way south, island to island. Some had ruins from the Loyalist settlers and their slaves, but we also found caves, old wells, and a blue hole. There were beautiful cliffs and beaches. On one iron shore we found duffel bags and backpacks of clothing, then further down the wreck of a Haitian sailboat. Its rough planking was filled with rags which gave the boat a brightly colored fringe. The mast and boom were crudely trimmed tree trunks. The boat, packed with illegal immigrants, went down three months ago. All were rescued and then deported. We were boarded by the Royal Bahamian Defense Force several days later. Since we did not appear to be smugglers or poachers they talked about the islands and told us this story of the boat wreak.