After a languid overnight sail from Antigua to Îles Des Saintes, Guadalupe, we were treated to an exquisite Caribbean sunrise. Described in the pilot book as "an irresistible group of islands with idyllic Gallic charm”, the 4 petites Îles Des Saintes islands, with their steep red, brown cliffs, and tastefully arranged red-roofed villas , do have a certain je ne sais quoi about them. Sadly, we cannot taste the cuisine as Covid rules prevent us from venturing ashore. The only small town, Bourg des Saintes, on the biggest island, Terre d’en Haut, nestles peacefully along the sheltered shore. It is interesting to note, since the islands were never agricultural, they did not have any need to import slaves. The islands have been French since shortly after they were colonized. Any African inhabitants came of their own volition. In this picturesque setting, after a night with 2 hour watches each, we settled in for a lazy day.
The Gods had other plans for us! 
A problem with the impeller, had Stuart plunging under the floor boards, screwing and unscrewing, sweating, a little seamanly cursing, and lots of oil on every part of his body and clothing - for hours and hours and hours…
Louis sat at his computer paying bills and booking marina spaces for future stopovers, all while sipping Bertha’s revenge gin (not really, but Bertha wanted to be in the picture!)
A chirpy Sabine suggested to Angus, “How about sorting out the Lazerette today?” He agreed, but rapidly regretted his decision. 
Lunch was late today!
Worth the wait, with fresh tempura battered  aubergine, accompanied by a crisp and crunchy salad and plump Antiguan avocados, flavored with generous dollops of garlic aioli. Followed by melt in the mouth lemon bars and strawberry ice cream.
After lunch the new siesta hammock was hoisted and Louis prompted fell into a deep sleep.