RN Wednesday Evening Toast

The label told of a man once known as Richard Le Noir, captured in Africa by French slavers, put to work in the cane fields, later to earn his freedom and then become pirate, only to go down in history as the notorious Big Black Dick. The rum was named after him.

Here’s to Ourselves (... as no one is likely to concern themselves with our welfare)

By Jorge Agurcia Fasquelle
The name “rum” comes to us from the island of Jamaica, since “rumbullion” was the general effect of excessive cups of this sugarcane-based spirit. Nowadays, Puerto Rico is the largest producer of fine rums in the world, but good rums may be found everywhere in the Antilles, each with its own characteristic taste. Rum and sailing somehow go together.

As for the word grog, it comes from the notorious Admiral E. “Old Grog” Vernon. A quirky sailor, who in 1740 decided that the customary daily ration of rum awarded to British crews during a voyage, was causing excessive hijinks onboard. He thus ordered it be henceforth diluted with water.

>If you ask for grog at any of the local bars, make sure they get the recipe right: one-part rum and three-part water. By the way, Old Grog received his nickname for his cape, an outlandish cloak fashioned out of unfinished grogram cloth.

My friend Danny Jones, from Fair Harbour in the islands, is a renowned rum drinker, as well as a fisherman by day and a storyteller by night. One can usually find Danny Jones either at the dock or in his favorite watering hole, “Grob Yo’ Wrasse Bar—Fishermen Only,” which is exactly where I ran into him the other day.

Grob Yo’ Wrasse is the type of place where anything can happen without a single patron in attendance even raising as much as an eyebrow. It’s a rickety wooden shack on stilts over the water. It’s connected to land through an even worse looking platform. And most of its customers tie up to a dock, of sorts, on their dories. On a good night the place will rock, literally tilting back and forth on those stilts. This particular night, a reggae band was jamming even though there were only a few customers.

“Hallo dere Mistah George. Ween you come to dee island, mon?”

“Well, hello there Danny Jones. I’m here to pick up my bike and take it over to the mainland on the ferry. So how are you?”

“Mon, I be doin’ joss fine, you know. Da sun be shinin’ wid no clouds, an’ I gots to thank da Good Lord fo’ dat, yes’s sore.

“I see you are still drinking rum, huh Danny?”

“Ya mon. I done found me sumtin’ new… oll dee wee from Grond Keeman… Hey Choco, SHOW GEORGE HERE YORE BIG BLACK DICK!

Suddenly the band stopped playing. Danny’s words hung on the vibrations of the last bass note. The three men playing dominos in one corner of the hut looked up. And I braced myself for a sudden squall without as much as a storm jib in my locker.

Choco, the bartender at the Grob Yo’ Wrasse is a serious man, who used to be a divemaster at one of the resorts, until he lost his right eye to an angry stingray. He’s a very large man, doesn’t like strangers and is not one to be messed with. So Danny’s request… well it made me nervous, to say the least.

“Ya Mistah George, wid only one eye left, Choco here is not one to lose sight of propriety in his bar,” said Danny Jones with a wide grin.

Sure enough, there in front of me Choco turned right around, grabbed a bottle of rum, and set it before me. The label told of a man once known as Richard Le Noir, captured in Africa by French slavers, put to work in the cane fields, later to earn his freedom and then become pirate, only to go down in history as the notorious Big Black Dick. The rum was named after him.

I looked at the bottle. Premium Cayman rum indeed. The band resumed its music and the guys in the corner continued their game. Everybody seemed to be having a good time, and Danny Jones was just getting started.

Unfortunately, I cannot here write the rest of the puerile comments that followed, on account of this rum, but I can tell you, nevertheless, that I ordered a scotch. (1/15/12)

Note: The author is a free-lance writer. He was a permanent contributor to Honduras This Week, under the by-line "The Leeward Course." Editor of the INCAE student magazine, "Vínculo," retired banker, taught business ethics at university, Knight of the Order of Malta, and was awarded the Commander's Cross of the Order Pro Merito Melitense in 2001 for his volunteer work; he lives in Tegucigalpa, Honduras.