We are on our way to see an historical landmark. Mostly for Theo, who for some unexplained reason, has taken a liking to Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson, the greatest officer in the history of Britain's Royal Navy. He was a HERO during the same time as when Napoleon rampaged around Europe, and Nelson was sent to Antigua for three years to enforce British laws.
"This harbor is famous," Dan says, "I don't blame Theo for wanting to see it."
I have my doubts, but I don't say anything.
"There's a lot to see," Dan adds. "A great view. Old military buildings. Officer's quarters . . ."
I like great views, but these ruins are still under reconstruction. It's hard for me to imagine the way they used to be.
Unfortunately, Dan fails to mention the most important point. It's windy up there on the Heights. Not just a little windy. It feels like you're standing in the middle of a maelstrom.
After we pose, I begin to be afraid my camera will get blown out of my hand. Or if I get to close to the edge, I'll get blown down, down, down to the cliff and then topple over.
Then, I begin to fear for Theo.
He is a gangster cat, no doubt about it, and he's not easily shaken. But his curiosity has drawn him forward. He is standing there, and even though all four paws on the ground, his body is being rocked from right to left. Luckily the wind is blowing towards us, so we're not in danger of being swept off the edge and then downward to our death.
"Don't go any closer," I warn Theo. "It's too dangerous."
He doesn't hear me. Or he can't hear me because my voice is being pushed back into my throat. My eyes are watering.
Theo moves forward, getting way too close to the edge. He is too busy sniffing. Dan is standing next to him, in full blown lecture mode:
"Admiral Nelson's commission means he's in charge of this very English Harbor, in St. Paul Parish, a harbor which served as a safe way to wait out hurricanes, ideal because it has deep waters close to shore. Nelson is also there to maintain (repair, replenish) Royal Navy warships that captured valuable sugar islands in the Eastern Caribbean. The British do this in order to cut off enemy trade and increase their wealth."
All of this happened decades ago, but Theo doesn't have a good sense of time. He's listening intently as he's being buffeted about on the highest point--Shirley Heights, a military post built by the British.
It's clear where the wind is coming from, but I begin to panic. What if the wind switches direction? Even for a second. Theo will have no chance at all. He will be blown off the cliff. He only weighs 10 pounds.
"Admiral Nelson is a true war hero. He has a series of remarkable victories. He is a great strategist. Finally, he's killed at the Battle of Trafalgar. Before that, he looses an arm in battle. It's shattered with grapeshot. It has to be amputated."
Too much information, I think, but Theo is lapping up every morsel.
Suddenly, the wind pauses. Oh, no. This is it. The wind is about to shift. Theo, who is perched there as still as a statue (even though his fur is standing on edge) is jostled off balance. I'm about to leap forward and save Theo from impending doom. I see him being blown away, disappearing off the cliff.
But I'm too late.
Dan leans over and scoops him in his arms, then turns to me.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
I compose my face. "Very interesting about Admiral Nelson."
"Great view," Dan says as he and Theo, together safely look at it just one more time.
He's right. It is a great view.
