Chapter 837: 373: Dominican Republic
Chapter 837: Chapter 373: Dominican Republic
[Dominican Republic, Samana Bay, Day 9 of the voyage, 10:00 AM]
After three days of smooth but somewhat boring sea crossing, the bow of Polaris finally sliced into the emerald-like calm waters of Samana Bay.
Different from the bustling modern luxury filled with super yachts and cruise ships in Nassau.
The Samana Bay presents a more primitive, rugged Latin charm.
In the distance, the jungle-covered mountains extend all the way to the coastline, and inside the bay, the white private sailboats are replaced.
By colorful local fishing boats “Yola” with Bible verses written on their sides and small tour boats carrying visitors to the national park for whale watching.
In the air, instead of the scent of money and sunscreen, there is a complex smell of tropical flowers and diesel engine exhaust.
“Alright, crew, get ready to dock.” Lin Yu’an’s voice broke the group’s gaze.
“From now on, we enter Dominican Republic’s territorial waters, everything go by the rules. Raven, raise the Q flag. Mike, contact Santa Barbara de Samana Port’s harbor supervisor.”
“Got it!”
Guided by the heavy Spanish-accented English over the VHF radio, Polaris slowly sailed into the public pier of Samana Town.
Here, there are no floating berths designed for super yachts equipped with independent water and electricity posts, just an old but sturdy concrete pier.
With enthusiastic shouts and help from the dock workers, they managed with some effort to moor Polaris steadily next to a French long-range sailboat that had also come from afar.
As the quarantine flag was lowered, the Bahamian flag was taken down and the Dominican Republic flag was raised up the mast, signaling the beginning of the most critical Chapter of this voyage.
Unlike other sailors who rushed to the town’s bar for a cold “Presidente” beer to celebrate their arrival.
After a brief rest, Lin Yu’an changed into a high-quality Loro Piana linen shirt and khaki pants, while Raven wore a simple, form-fitting white dress.
They did not look like weather-beaten sailors but more like business elites assessing investment prospects.
They went straight to the upscale hotel in Samana Town. Inside the most famous local hotel, they entered the cigar bar suite designated by Ricardo.
The air conditioning was strong, leather sofas, the scent of cigars and rum filled the air, the lighting was dim, with mahogany tables.
A slightly overweight middle-aged man, with slicked-back hair, wearing a well-tailored bright blue suit, was lounging on the leather sofa, exhaling smoke.
The large gold Rolex Daytona on his wrist shimmered unabashedly under the dim light.
Lin Yu’an glanced at him once and roughly judged that he was Ricardo, a mixed descendant of the Taíno People and white.
The Dominican Republic is a typical “melting pot” country, with over seventy percent of the population being mixed-race.
Spanish colonizers, descendants of African slaves sold here, and the long-vanished but still present bloodline of the Taíno People, these three genetics have blended on this land for centuries.
The Ricardo before them was undoubtedly one of the most successful products of this “melting pot.”
He had a surname from Europe, spoke fluent bilingual, understood all the rules of modern business society.
Yet his skin color and certain facial features allowed him to perfectly integrate into the local social network, mingling with all walks of life.
Upon seeing the two enter, he didn’t get up, but lazily lifted his eyelids and discreetly scanned them from head to toe with his sharp black eyes.
From the understated yet recognizable Patek Philippe 5270 on Lin Yu’an’s wrist to Raven’s simple Van Cleef & Arpels clover necklace.
Only then did the laziness on his face vanish instantly, replaced by a shrewd and enthusiastic smile of a businessman upon meeting a “big fish.”
“Ah, Mr. Lin, Miss Raven!” He finally stood up and extended his hand warmly.
“Welcome to Samana! I’m Ricardo. The intermediary has already informed me that his most esteemed friends would be visiting me.”
His handshake was firm yet brief, and his gaze, upon meeting Lin Yu’an’s eyes, reaffirmed the other’s aura.
“Mr. Ricardo.” Lin Yu’an nodded courteously.
“Sit, please sit!” Ricardo hosted them like a master, and with a snap of his fingers, the server immediately brought over three cups of “Brugal Leyenda” rum.
“Mr. Lin,” he swirled the amber liquid in his cup, getting straight to the point, “the reputation of the intermediary you’re looking for shines like gold throughout the Caribbean.”
“He said you are a very competent documentary film group from the United States, hoping to obtain official permission as quickly as possible to film in the core area of Los Haitises National Park, right?”
“Exactly correct.” Lin Yu’an nodded, pushing forth the film plan that had been prepared in advance.
The plan titled “Caribbean Echo: Exploring the Lost World of the Taíno People,” detailed their hope to explore ancient cave paintings left by Taíno People and study their academic purpose related to oceanic culture through the lens.