Roseau, the capital of The Commonwealth of Dominica, lay to the south-west side of the island. It overlooked the Caribbean from the foot of the low hills that rose steeply towards the mountainous tropical rainforests that dominated the island’s landscape. With a few exceptions Roseau’s buildings were one or two stories high with the architecture reflecting the colourful colonial style of the Caribbean, balconies overhung the streets with the ubiquitous red or green coloured corrugated-iron roofs marking the urban landscape.
The traffic was relatively sparse, mostly SUVs, vans and pickups, though strangely relatively few people were about. Barton felt at home noting that Dominicans drove on the left side of the road. It was hardly four kilometres along the coast road to the city centre where Sarah had no difficulty in parking the Jimny in a siding off Bay Street. The sea front consisted of a rock reinforced breakwater and a jetty that led out to deeper water where a huge cruise ship was anchored spewing forth its horde of day-trippers.
The locals had flocked to the market place next to the seafront where lines of minibuses and taxis waited. The sound of steel drums welcomed the arriving tourists eager to notch up another island, ready for another day of sightseeing. The market bustled as the stall owners tried to capture the attention of the passing tourists with their colourful goods: exotic fruits, souvenirs, local handicrafts, brightly coloured shirts and dresses.
Sarah pointed out the sights as they made their way on foot past the stalls and the ferry terminal, then through the market place that overlooked the Roseau River. It was not complicated; the town was five hundred metres by five hundred metres. The principal buildings of note were the Governor’s Residence and Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.
‘I told you it wasn’t big, now you see what I mean by island fever!’
‘It depends what you’re looking for, I’ve just spent six months with the teeming millions of India and South East Asia.’
‘Well if you’re looking for peace and calm it’s here, you can spice things up with a bit by snorkelling and sailing, and if you’re feeling more energetic there’s the mountains and rain forest.’
‘Where would you suggest I stay?’
‘Why don’t you stay in one of the villas, you’ve seen it’s only a couple of miles from the town centre and airport, you’re here in five minutes. There you’ll have Malcolm and his friends for company.’
He was not sure how to take that and it must have shown on his face.
‘Don’t get me wrong, they’re nice people. In addition the villa comes with housekeeping, plus satellite TV and the pool. If you like sailing you could charter a boat, there’s plenty of things to do.’
‘That must be pretty expensive.’
‘No, we’ll work something out and it’s better for us to have someone in residence seeing things are very quiet with the crisis.’
Sarah was not wrong, Roseau was not Miami, and if Barton wanted to concentrate his ideas on his future business he did not need to be distracted by a tourist’s vision of the world. The last six months had been hectic and it was time for a pause, a little peace and quiet. As for exploration he would be looking at Antigua and the Caymans for his investments.
They were back at Smeaton’s on time for lunch. Barton had not made seen much of the island, but from what he had seen it was much smaller than he had imagined, barely fifty kilometres from north to south and about twenty at its widest. A complete tour of the island could be made in a couple of hours.
‘So Tom what do you think of Roseau?’ asked Smeaton with a knowing smile.
‘An easy going kind of place.’
‘In a nut shell that’s exactly what it is, the only excitement is when a cruise ship comes in.’
‘What about our Emerald Pool development?’ added Fitzwilliams.
‘Magnificent, a very discreet tropical paradise.’
‘That’s exactly what we want it to be, not a jetset destination like Saint Barts.’
‘It’s a pity that things haven’t gone as fast as we would have liked, but who could have foreseen the crisis,’ sighed Smeaton.
‘Don’t worry Malcolm things will pick-up again — they always do,’ Fitzwilliams reassured him.