Fishers not taking chances with storm

Before the radios warned of Tropical Storm Melissa, the sea had already sent its message - thin white "scripts" rippled across the water near Rocky Point, St Thomas, and the fishermen knew the weather was turning.

"Once you see scripts, you know say either storm or hurricane a come. That's the definite indicator," said veteran fisherman Christopher Williams of the white ripples that stretch across the water's surface when the pressure drops before a storm.

By Wednesday morning, the wind came in restless bursts, the sky hung low and dull, and the surf beat heavy against the reef. Salt mist stung the eyes, and every sound seemed to come from the water itself. The men moved with quiet urgency, hauling their boats higher up the sand, ropes cutting into their palms.

"The day get mash up," one man said, straining against the line. "The only thing we can do a push the boat them further pan land." More than 20 boats stood in rows along the beach, hulls balanced on tyres and blocks. Their outboard engines, worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, had been detached at dawn and locked inside a small wooden shed the men call their safe house. None ventured out that day. They said they were "on loan" from the sea, waiting out the system that forecasters said could grow into a hurricane before the weekend.

Melissa, which formed in the central Caribbean earlier this week, was expected to drift west-northwest toward Jamaica, strengthening steadily over warm waters. Meteorologists warned that the storm could bring up to 10 inches of rain and dangerous seas along the island's eastern and southern coasts.

"Outside nuh ruff yet," one fisherman said, eyes on the reef. "Is just the swell. But once the watch turn warning, yuh know say it ago get ruff. The swelling them big out deh, that mean she a come."

For Williams, who has spent more than 40 years on these waters, the decision to stay ashore was simple.

"We hear it and we see it," he told THE STAR. "Sometimes yuh nuh affi see it pan the phone. The sky or the black birds will tell we how bad the weather is."

Williams said it wasn't fear that sent them scrambling, but experience. A habit shaped by decades of rough weather and close calls. "This is regular preparation for us. Everything affi take up. We affi make work easier fi we self."

A small 15-horsepower engine can cost around $300,000, while larger outboards run close to or a million or more.

"Some man stronger than some, money-wise," Williams said. "An engine mash up and it hard fi start over when yuh nuh have backup. If this storm damage the boats, it could take months fi some man go back a sea."

Rocky Point, just east of Morant Bay, is one of St Thomas's busiest fishing beaches, its economy built almost entirely on daily catches. That dependence also makes it one of the first communities to feel a storm's threat.

"Melissa might pass, she might nuh pass, but the sea never lie," a younger fisherman said, pointing toward the white caps pounding the reef. "When she start swell like this, we know say something serious out deh."

By midday, the tide crept higher and the wind began to whistle through the coconut trees. The shoreline turned the colour of steel. THE STAR team spotted a Marine Division patrol car easing along the reef road, its blue light flashing faintly through the mist. The officers slowed to speak with the men, checking that every vessel was secured and every engine stored.

"We come through fi check if anybody still out deh," one officer said. "We just a make sure everybody hear the warning." A senior officer later explained that the patrol was part of wider safety efforts along the eastern coast.

"Once the Met Service issues a warning, we move into these fishing areas to make sure everyone understands the advisory and that vessels are secured," he said. "The goal is prevention, not rescue."