Free Manpot's Tales of the Tropics by Malcolm Boyes Page A

after
a couple of years, a gentleman showed up at the Shack who
introduced himself as a sea captain from New Jersey.
    He'd island hopped through the Caribbean and landed,
like so many of us wannabe pirates, in Tortola…at the Shack.
    Bomba immediately dubbed him " Seaman...cos that's
what he was."
    Seaman quickly became a fixture at the Shack, helping
out and quickly becoming another of those wonderful Caribbean
characters.
    Around this time Bomba became famous for his Bar B
Q's on Wednesdays, Sundays, and during his monthly Full Moon
Parties where amazing mushroom concoctions are still served (The
"Sports Illustrated" Swimsuit issue dedicated four pages to the
bizarre ritual a few years ago).
    To be kind, a Full Moon party at the Shack's like a
cross between a classic Caribbean "jump-up," a frat party and an X
rated version of a Gidget beach bash. Almost anything goes and
.everyone should experience at least one in their lifetime. But
leave the kids at home.
    Anyway, after those wild bashes Seaman would dump all
the leftovers into a massive pot, add spices and boil up a
fantastic stew that Bomba then dished up to the regulars. He called
it "Seaman Pot," which, after a few weeks, got shortened to
"Manpot."
    Of course Bomba, being Bomba, decided that this
wonderful, spicy dish had, shall we say," extra special properties
that made men extra strong" in the love department. "Manpot",
according to Bomba was the "Altoid of Aphrodisiacs" and any man who
sampled it….well you get the picture.
    Anyway Bomba one day gave me that name and it stuck
like a local's butt to a runaway donkey.
    So, down island I'm Manpot and my favorite cabbie is
still the infamous Darkie...
    So there was my fine friend with the funny name at
the airport. We hugged, we laughed and then he said we had to drop
someone off on the way to my house in Little Apple Bay.
    "His name is Big Red the Gangster” said Darkie
proudly, as he opened the back door of his Mitsubishi to reveal a
large man, fast asleep.
    He was certainly "Big." He certainly wasn’t "Red."
And he didn’t seem like much of a "Gangster."
    Within minutes, we were bouncing through the
backstreets of Tortola’s East End. Reggae drifting out of the tin
roofed houses filled the air as we bounced down the dirt road with
potholes deep enough to swallow a medium size child. Suddenly, a
booming voice broke the humid air.
    ”Stop”, Big Red commanded. We stopped and Big Red
staggered out and into a tiny, smoky bar. We followed, into the
darkness, bought beers and were back on our way.
    We repeated this routine, without anything more than
the commanding “Stop," twice more before dropping a very drunk Big
Red off at his house.
    Together Darkie and I headed on to Little Apple Bay
along Ridge Road with the impossibly blue ocean below us, the
emerald islands in the background, and sheer drops on either side
of us., As he drove, much too fast, Darkie told me tales of Big Red
the Gangster.
    “He cause a big fight in a bar,” Darkie said, “and
when two policemen come to arrest him he say ‘Where the rest of the
force (of course Darkie pronounced it "faarse") "Take the whole BVI
faarse to arrest Big Red the Gangster."
    Seems Big Red was so drunk that the two cops needed
no reinforcements that night and Big Red slept it off in jail. But
Darkie said the one thing Big Red liked even more than booze, and
the occasional fight, was the ponies.
    Now, believe it or not, Tortola actually has a horse
racing track.( in typical island style renovating the racetrack was
put before updating the hospital and fixing the airport….these
small islands have their priorities right!).And Big Red, it seems,
has his own race horse (Pronounced race 'haarse' with that
wonderful Caribbean accent).
    “So”, Darkie said, “Big Red takes his race haarse to
the track. But that damn haarse don’t want to get in the startin'
gate…All the haarses get in the gate...but Big Red haarse back
out...they put the haarse back in the