Searchin’ for the Conch with Uncle Benny
A revered sailor navigates with “de visions.”
by Mike Lipstock
Uncle Benny was very slight, with light tan skin and a woolen hat that never left his head. He had never gone to school, but he knew his numbers and behind a tiller could navigate his way to the end of the earth. He could read the color depths of the waters, and at night the stars were his pathways in the sea. He was in his eighties and no one knew where he came from in the Bahamas. Some said Deadman’s Reef and others Eight Mile Rock, but it didn’t really matter. He just came ashore years ago and never left. Now he was the patriarch of the village and it’s unelected leader. He was a master seaman who could skipper any thing that sailed, and his other rare ability was . . . magic, insight! He had what the islanders called “de visions.” How else was it possible to forecast a catch and track it down in the middle of the ocean? Was it those little flecks of fire that still burned in his eyes? Is that what gave him an extra dimension-an ability to see under water?
Katie and Nick always watched and wondered when they were out to sea with him. The two Americans lived on the same Bahamian island with the old man and cherished him dearly. But he always remained an enigma to them, a mystic who seemed to read their every thought. Off and on they had been coming to the Bahamas for years and now it had finally become home. They had a patched-up old car and a dinky boat with a home made red sail that they rode the winds with and explored all the islets in their backyard. Most of their friends lived in the hamlets along a shore that went out sixty miles and ended in a small conch village called McCraystown. Out there people still clung to the traditions of l9th-century Britain. There you were addressed as Mister, Mistress, Captain (even if you owned only a rowboat), or, Uncle! the most venerated rank of all. This was reserved for the elders and Uncle Benny was one of the oldest.
Phones didn’t exist that far out and only a few could afford electric generators. But they had a damn long grapevine that spread news over the whole sixty miles of island. For two days now, Katie and Nick were hearing the same story repeatedly. “Dere is big trouble in McCraystown!”
The conch boats had been out for ten days and very few of the conchs had been caught. They needed Uncle Benny to “search dem out” and lead them, but he was off in his boat and couldn’t be found. They had their own ideas of bringing him back home, which was based on “de visions” the old man alone possessed. How could you argue with believers of “de mystical powers” when they reasoned like this?
“If de Cap’n and de Mistress come out on de sandy road, Uncle Benny will see dem, dey like his fambly, he’ll come rushin’ right home!”
The fact that Uncle Benny was on a some small island miles away meant nothing. The answer was “oh, he see dem.” Still, it looked as though the Captain and his wife were about to become the “lures.”
The very next morning Nick and Kate left with the patched-up car on the most tortuous road in the Bahamas. It was a sandy track just a few feet from the ocean and if the winds blew hard it was washed away. But if it was sunny and calm you rode near gentle waves all foamy and a special color of turquoise, blue, and green. As they drove, Nick said very quietly, “Do you think he can see us coming?” Both wondered silently.
There were reference points to watch for and after the first fifteen miles the cemetery came into view, the one they planned to rest in for eternity. It was built on an elevation that faced the sea. The small stones rested under the shade of a huge weeping palm. They slowed to a snail’s pace and nodded to many old friends who rested there now. Their little Austin mini crunched along the sandy path circling around the water-filled craters that were like small lakes. At thirty miles they carne to Pelican’s Cove and stopped to talkto the Reverend Mr. Loftus. “Mornin’ Cap’n Nick, Mornin’ Mistress Kate. “Good morning, Reverend,” they answered
“Dey god a lot ob trouble out in McCraystown– de conch has gone away. Dey all waitin’ for you to come and bring back Uncle Benny.”
“Are you sure he’ll come?”
“Cap’n, you and de Mistress are like his fambly, he visions you, when you dere, he’ll come.”
They knew how vital the conch was to their existence. The meaty mollusk in the big pink shell was their protein source, food staple, and means of making a living. Without it was disaster! Rev. Loftus gave them further news of what to expect a mile or so down the road.
“De sandy road is all washed away to McCraystown. You go to where de casserina tree bends ober de road and follow de ‘haul over.’ Dis ged you to de beach, de tide is slack, and you god time to drive on de sand all de way.”
They thanked him and he shook Nick’s hand and bowed from the waist to Mistress Kate. At the casserina pine they found the path and gingerly drove through the scrub and on to a glorious beach. Not one footstep marred its smooth surface. They threw the mini into high gear on the hard-packed sand and flew; over a splendor that made the eyes smart with joy.
A mile from the end they found a dry piece of road again, and announced their arrival with a toot of the horn. It was a conch town but more like the frontier of the old west a place where people relied on their own resourcefulness to grow and repair anything.
Now it was almost empty. Only the old and very young remained at home. It was an emergency and everyone was out to sea. The little hamlet was built on a slight rise and the tiny houses all leaned to the side from the buffeting of the winds. Here and there houses were propped with palm trunks but they still managed to outlive their owners. They never collapsed.
Splashes of color were everywhere. A little blue, a dollop of yellow, splotches of orange, and shades of green dabbed on the houses gave the village a feeling of untamed impressionism. Nick and Katie walked into a Monet or Pizzaro painting whenever they arrived. The little car was the only thing that moved. From each door a bent figure shouted out the news.
“Mistress Kate, Cap’n Nick, Uncle Benny come back! He back, he back!” They heard it all the way to the end of the quay where they stopped the car and got out. There they found the old man in his tiny house on the edge of the water. The small blue and white house ieaned tiredly on a pile of conch shells twenty feet high. No need to honk; he knew they arrived. The smiling old man came out to greet them.
“Aye there Mistress Kate and Cap’n Nick. I knowed since yesterday dat you was comin’.” —
Katie gave him a big kiss and Nick hugged himby the shoulders. They loved the old man and it was a delight to listen to the lilt of the islands in his speech.
“You knew we were comin’?” Nick asked.
“Oh, I seed you comin’ on de sandy road, so I sail in from Little Hog Cay.” This had to register with Nick for a moment. ‘So the lure did work,’ he thought.
“You heard about the conch?”
“Aye, but we find dem. Did you bring de sleepin’ bags and some food?” Katie jumped in at this point.
“Uncle Benny, I brought the bags, a case of tuna fish, brown bread, and the ginger ale. We can stay out for a month.”
She hit a tender spot when she mentioned the supplies. He loved the tuna, bread, and ginger ale with a passion, and she never forgot.
“Meet me by de boat,” he said. “I’ll get Uncle Aubert and Rev. Cooper. Dis way we keep dem out ob trouble.”
Uncle Aubert and Rev. Cooper were two old conch men his age, who had retired to the backwaters of the docks. They drove to the dock which was just a pile of broken planks and unloaded the small Austin. Katie hadn’t forgotten; she brought Aubert and the Reverend big windup clocks. They were overwhelmed with surprise.
Uncle Benny leaned over to Nick and whispered, “Dots some fine gal, huh, Nick!?”
The trip to “somewhere” was about to begin. They walked down to the dock with the supplies. Tied neatly to the crumbling pier was the Maryanne, Uncle Benny’s sturdy little Abaco sail boat. The Abaco boats were the little hand-hewn ribbed boats made from “de wood from de brush.” Each was a work of art, sculpted by primitive hand tools left behind by an ancient ancestor.
A shoal keel; a huge rudder and tiller; and a large sail characterized the Abaco work boat, but the single sail was the distinctive trait. Too poor to buy a good piece of canvas, these were sails of a thousand scraps. They were stitched and patched with pieces of red and blue canvas and some yellow and purple cloth. Ah, but when hoisted, a snootfull of wind swelled the limp rag into a Technicolor marvel.
They loaded the supplies and a big bucket was filled with cold water to cool the ginger ale. Before they left, the Uncles stowed another bucket, I this one of live conch emergency rations they never traveled without. Uncle Aubert and Rev. Cooper sat in the stern and manned the tiller and sail. Uncle Benny crouched in the bow, and Katie and Nick sat amidships. Nick kept an eye on Uncle Benny to see how he tracked the conch. The sun was dropping and the light was getting dim, but with a crew of masters it made no difference. They headed out to sea and before long the shadow of the island slipped away. It was a long day and Katie and Nick dozed as the little Maryanne ploughed through a moonless sea. Sometime ir the middle of the night the boat stopped and the five of them came ashore on a desolate island ir waters not yet charted.
Nick and Kate, still half asleep, crawled into sleeping bags and the Uncles curled up on the sand in light cotton blankets. At first light they were back in the boat. Uncle Benny led the way with hand signals.
Katie shouted to him, “Do you know where the ships from the village are?”
“Oh yes, Mistress, I know. We be dere in two hours.” –And in two hours, just as the clairvoyant. predicted, the sixteen wooden Abaco boats stretched out in front of them. Nick and Kate stared at them in wonder. Never before had they seen the whole fleet sailing in full regalia. What a sight! Most of the hulls were white with a little green and red trim, but oh, those sails! The patched colors were in stripes, diagonals, circles and hundreds of geometric designs. Wind filled, the~
headed directly to the Maryanne. It was an astonishing sight, a moment in time that Nick and Kate would never forget.
The Uncles would lead in “de search for de conch” and the fleet would follow. Uncle Benny’s hand signals and built-in radar were going to find an elusive herd of conch somewhere in the middle of the ocean.
The old man sat in the bow, eyes squinting in the sun. They headed further east into much deeper water. Was he on to something? Islanders rarely left the safety of the reef and that they did awhile ago. In deep water everything changed color. They were sailing in an ocean of royal blue and only in the shallows where the conch lived would it turn back to turquoise.
Meanwhile Nick marveled at the old man who was following a preordained course from which he never wavered. His hand worked like an extra rudder every eye was on it. A slight wave to port and the fleet adjusted immediately. Their confidence was back. Most probably recalled from long ago, when the old man had taken them far away to the Caico’s and they returned with a full bounty of conch.
As they cut across the open sea, Nick could dimly make out the outline of a distant landfall. An island began emerging, one not on the charts. The color of the water was turning to a familiar light green and the island now stood in sharp relief. Suddenly the old man stood up in the bow and raised his hand to round up and stop. The clan~ followed with great emotion. Had he found the conch? Uncle Aubert dropped the sail and Rev. Cooper prayed. Uncle Benny though, had “de big grin on his face!”
“Dose boys, he said, miss de whole conch march. Dey was sailin’ de wrong way. Dey right under de boat. Can’t you see dem, Mistress?”
They squinted into the water and saw what : appeared to be rocks. With a sudden roar the water churned white as the villagers stooped to pick up the mother lode found by the great Uncle Benny. Katie and Nick joined the harvest and loaded conch until their arms were nurnb. In the evening with the ships loaded to the gunwales, the five of them waded ashore and settled in for another night under the stars.
Nick was looking for answers. The whole trip was a puzzle to him.
“What made you go to that island for the conch, Uncle?”
“I had de visions.”
“You could see across miles and miles of open ocean?”
“I could see de little marks dey make in de sand, and dots what I follow.”
“When did you know there were so many out there?”
“I look under de water and dere are de feelers stickin’ out ob de sand. De furder we go, de more dey come up.”
“Did you see them in the deep water also?” “Oh yes, dots when I seed dem best.” That’s where the conversation ended. Nick shook his head and went to help Katie who was busy making a ton of tuna salad that the Uncles had with their brown bread and ginger ale. There were no answers for Uncle Benny’s magic, it just happened. Nick had to leave it in the same niche as UFO’s and sci-fi tales. It had been a wonderful adventure.
