My credit card works. I escape the hotel, which, to be fair, is a lot better than prison.
Our leave-taking is about as dramatic - meaning not very - as the workaday departures I’ve made from scores of container terminals. No streamers, no brass bands, just a few bored dockers. But the setting, shown in the company handout picture above, is spectacular.
Among the passengers, some South Africans going to the island for work. Their first sea voyage and, for most, first time out of the country. ‘Which way is the island?’ one asks, looking apprehensively at the water.
We're quickly beyond the breakwater and, as the sun sets, I head to my cabin. The chimes are about to ring for dinner.
