My father had docked the "Beachcomber" in Miami along with Roger Chevrau and Daniel Botin. They had come to Miami from the Bahamas to outfit the boat and gather supplies for a planned trip to the Galapagos Islands. They were all young (in their twenties) and full of passion and excitement for their imagined high sea adventure.
They had met each other in the Bahamas six months earlier while working for some of the island's hotels. Roger was a pastry chef in Freeport and was originally from Quebec. Daniel had been working as a short order cook, also in Freeport and was the son of a retired French Admiral.
Two days before they intended to depart Miami, it began to rain heavily. The boat was still docked at a marina and since they were living out of it, they had to make due in the rain. In the midst of this November rainstorm, the three of them were huddled on the boat under a makeshift canopy trying to work on the engine. The only other person out in the rain was a US Naval officer who happened to walk by and so they said hello. He stopped, and despite the rain, struck up a conversation. They told him their stories and their plan for the Galapagos. He was intrigued by their story telling and likely felt sorry for them - seeing them crammed into a 23 ft sailboat in the pouring rain. The following day happened to be Thanksgiving, and he happened to be the commander of a local naval base so he invited them to share Thanksgiving dinner on the base. They accepted the invitation and celebrated their first Thanksgiving with the US navy. The next day, they thanked everyone they could on the base and made their way to the boat and then out to sea.
They set out from Miami and sailed into a storm that flooded the engine and tore the main sail. They were left to the whim of the currents. The boat drifted toward Cuba and after 3 days of drifting, they were picked up by a Cuban gunboat. They were not beaten but for another 3 days they were kept awake and questioned. Every two hours an interrogator would enter my father's cell and ask the same questions...what were you doing on a submarine base, what were you doing in Cuban waters, where are you coming from where are you going, who are you, who are your friends...etc According to my father, he thinks there must have been a cuban spy on the base because they had very specific knowledge about their recent visit.
On the third day, the three prisoners were brought out of their cells and put before a Cuban military official. Making a broad wry smile he apologized to them for the detention. He continued in impeccable unaccented French that they were now the invited guests of Fidel Castro. They were put in a jeep with armed "chaperones" and given a week long scripted tour of the island, complete with housing, meals, cigars and liquor.
At the end of their "visit", they were returned to their boat only to find that the boat had been completely stripped of all the canned food and equipment. The villager charged with towing them back out to sea was reluctant to help them but eventually agreed to provide them with fresh fruit before sent them back out to sea.
Although neither my father nor Roger spoke Spanish, Daniel later explained that he had grown up in Basque country and that although he feigned ignorance for the guards and officials, he actually understood everything that had been said. Daniel explained to them that the Cubans had decided that even though 3 Frenchmen sailing under a British flag (Bermuda) out of a US Naval base looked exceptionally suspicious, they had no intelligence to refute their story. According to Daniel, the Cubans had simply decided that giving them the week long vacation would be a cheap way for them to garner some positive international publicity, before kicking them off the island.
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