One might sunbathe on the beach at Pasanggrahan Guest House and watch the cruise ships come and go. As my wife Linda and I sat in the little cafe in Marigot, we tried to picture ourselves on the French Riviera. Something wasn’t quite right, though. There was too much English and too few poodles. And not enough smokers for this Caribbean island to be truly French.

Every now and then a tiny Renault buzzed through the square, but the drivers were black not swarthy Mediterranean brown. I was surprised at the lack of bicycles and scooters that might have cut down on the creeping traffic. Around the corner in the old section of town were some buildings with wrought–iron balconies, colorful awnings, and gingerbread trim reminiscent of Marseilles or New Orleans. But all in all, the French part of St. Martin was just another Americanized Caribbean island.

Our driver, George, helped us search for a library and a museum, but to no avail. Even though St. Martin, both Dutch and French parts, had been affected by the slave trade, they have apparently lost all memories of it. My search for Capt. Lightburn on St. Martin came to a screeching halt at the Pasanggrahan Royal Guest House in the Dutch capital of Phillipsburg.

The office of Black Arm Lottery was closed tight. This delightful inn, the oldest hotel on the island, was formerly the governor’s mansion, VIP guest house, and royal residence. Linda had spotted it as we drove along Front Street and made sure George dropped us off there. As we entered the secluded lobby, Linda pointed out the peacock chairs and the portrait of Wilhelmina, Queen of Holland. My eyes wandered into the “Sidney Greenstreet” Bar with its slow–moving ceiling fans churning the cigar smoke.

We were escorted to the seaside bistro, just three steps from the very white beach and multi–colored parasols. It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner, so we had iced tea and munchies and did a little people–watching. When Linda heard that the speciality of the chef, Tini Tinitali, was Indonesian– style wahoo, she regretted not being able to stay for dinner.

Phillipsburg is the capital of Dutch St. Martin. It lies between a beautiful white sand beach and a huge sand pond that once provided generous revenue. Linda shopped for an hour or so along Front and Back streets but came up empty–handed. We walked to the marina to catch the tender to the ship. While waiting, we tested the local brew, 5.2% Carib Beer. It was robust, to say the least.

Back at the cruise ship, we dressed for the formal dinner in our tuxedo and lacy gown. The steak was delicious and the performance of Cirque du

Galaxy was superb. Just

The leading beer of St. Martin is Carib, a powerful 5.2% beer.

another night in paradise.

Our next stop in search of Capt. Lightburn, the man who ran slaves between Africa, the Caribbean, and Charleston, was St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands.