As the Civil War ended in April 1865, orders came down the line: All Confederate officers and soldiers were to surrender their arms at a Union depot. This did not sit well with the Southerners, and many of them chose to hide their arms rather than surrender them.

The period between 1867 and 1869 saw the largest influx, with an estimated 300 to 1,000 Confederate refugees arriving in Belize alone. Many of those refugees continued on to the Cayman Islands and Jamaica, as all were under British rule. The Bay Islands were a less common choice.

The Bay Islands were no longer a British colony by that time. In 1859, the British signed a treaty with Honduras for that country to take over the Bay Islands in 1861. English speakers were allowed to remain without the threat of removal. They were permitted to keep their possessions and land, and they could continue their lives with the understanding that they would submit to Honduran law.

The Bay Islands were no longer a British colony by that time. In 1859, the British signed a treaty with Honduras for that country to take over the Bay Islands in 1861. English speakers were allowed to remain without the threat of removal. They were permitted to keep their possessions and land, and they could continue their lives with the understanding that they would submit to Honduran law.

Basically, the Bay Islanders were left to govern themselves. They were guaranteed freedom of religion and had few Hondurans to contend with. In the decades that followed, they built a remarkable society and established communities where many of their descendants still reside today.

Jackson left on a schooner from Charleston.

Joseph A. Jackson left on a schooner from Charleston, South Carolina, sometime in 1866. He sailed to the Bahamas and then continued on to Grand Cayman in the Cayman Islands. Jackson arrived in French Cay in the Roatan Bay Islands in late 1866 and took up residence on Big French Cay. He met a woman from Grand Cayman, and they were married. Their first son, William Jackson, was born in 1868. Their second son, Oliver Jackson, was born in 1871. Their third son, Joseph A. Jackson Jr., was born in 1874.

Joseph A. Jackson was wounded in the Civil War. He suffered a head wound that was treated with a silver plate fixed to his skull. One of his prized possessions when he arrived in French Cay was a military sword. Jackson died in 1878, and his widow returned to Grand Cayman with their three sons.

When they became young men, the paths of the three sons of Joseph A. Jackson diverged. While William stayed in the Cayman Islands, Oliver and Joe returned to Roatan. The two Roatanians married, had children of their own, and lived on Big French Cay.

Some years later, after a hurricane, Oliver moved across the bay to the main island. This is where the main town of French Cay is today. Joe remained on Big French Cay, where he raised several children. One of his sons was Darwin Jackson, who, as a young man, built a schooner and opened a store on Big French Cay. Schooners at the time were commonly used to bring supplies from the Cayman Islands and Belize to French Cay. Darwin Jackson was Albert Jackson’s father.

Albert Jackson worked hard as a young man. He built and owned many boats. He became a shrewd businessman and built a shrimp packing plant called Agua Azul. Early on, he saw the potential of tourism on the island and went on to build a resort with scuba diving tours called Fantasy Island Beach Resort. This resort put Roatan on the global tourism map and became popular with Central American presidents and U.S. government officials for hosting reunions and meetings.

Joseph A. Jackson’s Civil War sword was passed down through the generations and came into Albert Jackson’s possession in the 1990s. Albert was the great-grandson of Joseph A. Jackson, making him a direct descendant. Albert showed me the sword that same year in his office. I held the sword and removed it from its sheath. It was in perfect condition. As I held the sword, I couldn’t help but think back to all those Civil War battlefields that the sword was likely a part of. I wondered how it found its way, 130 years later, into the small town of French Harbour. Albert left his great-grandfather’s sword in good hands, and I will ensure it passes into good hands after me.

Upon closer inspection of the sword, it bears inscriptions on both sides of the handle. One side is engraved with the words “Mansfield and Lamb, Forrester, R.I.” An engraving on the other side reads “U.S.,” followed by the initials “C.E.W.” and the year “1865.”

Further research into Civil War-era weapons revealed that Mansfield and Lamb were manufacturers of swords and other military weapons from the 1840s to the 1860s. They sold these weapons to the U.S. Army and private buyers. The initials C.E.W. represent Charles E. Wilson, the person who inspected the sword.

I hope whoever possesses the sword in the future decides to unsheathe it on April 9, 2065, and remembers the history it represents 200 years later.

Robert McNab, along with his wife, Margret Crawford, immigrated to Cape Gracias a Dios on the northeast coast of Honduras. They arrived in 1835 from Edinburgh, Scotland. The English had a settlement on the cape, and there was a fort manned by British soldiers. A few settlers also tried to make a living there.

While there, Robert McNab heard about the Bay Islands to the west and decided to relocate there. The archipelago was beginning to attract British subjects from the Cayman Islands and beyond. When his party reached Roatan, they settled on one of the three cays inside the French Harbour channel.

There is an interesting account of the McNabs from a few years later. In 1840, an Englishman named Thomas Young, an employee of the British Central America Land Company, was on his way to Black River. His objective was to establish an English colony on the Mosquito Coast of Honduras. En route to Black River, Mr. Young’s schooner encountered a problem with the rudder and had to seek help in French Harbour.

Thus the town of French Harbour was started.

Mr. Young states in his writings that a Scotsman with a large family was the only person living there. The Scotsman that Mr. Young refers to in his writings can only be Robert McNab. Young describes the family as well-established in French Harbour. Since the Scotsman was a boat builder by trade, he repaired the schooner for Mr. Young. Mr. Young’s account states that the family was in the process of building a small schooner to trade with Belize, the Cayman Islands and other ports.

Around this time, the Jones family also settled in the town. The two island families began to marry into each other. Thus, the town of French Harbour was founded. Curiously, no one seems to know for sure why the town was called French Harbour, since it was settled by Scots. There is an old, commonly heard story that two Frenchmen were the first people to live there, and thus the place became known as French Harbour.

Robert and Margaret had a total of seven children: five boys and two girls. From 1840 to the present day, descendants of Robert McNab and Margaret Crawford have owned and operated all types of boats. They owned commercial fishing boats, such as shrimp trawlers, lobster boats, and conch boats, as well as general cargo vessels, freighters and, lastly, passenger ferries.

Allan finished high school in Orlando, Florida first and studied engineering from Caterpillar in Tampa. The young Allan returned home to Roatan to work with his dad in his growing business. They built a bigger boat in 1958 and named her M/V Judy. The boat was built to run coconuts from the Bay Islands to the USA.

Allan’s uncle, Hersel Elwin, also had a boat, which he later turned control over to Allan to operate. Allan named this boat the Altear and put it to work running coconuts to Miami. On one of his trips picking up coconuts in Bonacca, he saw a beautiful girl named Yvette Kirkconnell. He decided it was time for him to get a wife – not long thereafter, couple were married.

At that time, the first shrimp boats had arrived from the USA and were operating out of Bonacca. Allan saw this as a new business opportunity, and in June 1963 he brought the first Roatan shrimp boat named Lady E to French Harbour.

Two years later, the three Hyde brothers purchased a second boat named Mr. B. The three brothers purchased a few more shrimp boats, and Allan decided it was time to build their seafood packing plant. They broke ground in 1968, and the building was due to open for operations in September 1969.

His strength was not only physical but was from within.

Unfortunately, a few days before the scheduled opening, Hurricane Francelia hit the Bay Islands on September 1, 1969, and destroyed the nearly- ready packing plant. The day after the hurricane, I accompanied Allan as he walked around and assessed the wreckage that was left. With tears in his eyes, he said to me: “Truman, the only thing I can do is to start all over again and rebuild.” As I looked at him, I realized that his strength was not only physical but was from within, the strength of determination and resilience. The seafood packing plant was rebuilt, and a year later, in 1970, it opened. At the height of the seafood industry in Roatan, he employed about three hundred people.

Allan Hyde was the pioneer who started the seafood business in Roatan. The industry was our largest employer for many years.

Allan’s accomplishments spanned a broad range. The Hyde family brought the first refrigerated ship to the Bay Islands to transport frozen seafood to the USA. This was the beginning of what is now Hybur and Hyde Shipping. Today, the companies operate a fleet of container ships that sail from Florida to four countries in the Western Caribbean.

Allan brought the first well drilling equipment to Roatan to drill deep wells, enabling the island to have a more reliable water supply. Before that, the population relied on rainwater cisterns, shallow wells, and gullies for their water supply. After drilling some personal wells, he asked for donations to install windmills to operate the wells around the island. At the time, the road to Flowers Bay was so bad that he had to walk barefoot in knee-deep mud to get to the area where the well was to be drilled.

Allan donated free electricity for many years to operate the well for the town of French Harbour. He also owned a small bulldozer and maintained the road to French Harbour whenever it got washed out from heavy rains, ensuring that it always remained drivable.

For many years, he was instrumental in providing 24-hour electricity to the town of French Harbour. Later on, during the presidential term of Rafael Leonardo Callejas, he was instrumental in getting island-wide 24-hour electricity generated with the installation of RECO.

He went on to become mayor of Roatan, and a congressman for the Bay Islands. While serving in these roles, he tried hard to get many projects approved that would modernize the islands. This was key in bringing in the first cruise ships to Roatan. To accomplish this, he took several Honduran politicians to Cozumel, Mexico, and Grand Cayman at his own expense, aiming to impress upon them the need to develop the islands for tourism. He told me that if you asked a politician something, you might get it, but if you demonstrated it to them, you stood a better chance of getting it accomplished.

Allan was the driving force of the National Party in the Bay Islands, where he met all of the incoming presidents. It started with General Oswaldo López, and he continued lifelong relations with many of these men. These relationships had lead directly to getting a modern airport and cruise ship dock built in Roatan during the presidency of Leonardo Rafael Callejas.

One of Allan’s employees, Sammy Gayle, started calling Allan ‘The Colonel’ back in 1963. I asked Sammy why he called him that. Sammy replied that whatever Allan set out to do, he accomplished. I, along with many of his friends, continued to call Allan ‘The Colonel’ throughout his life.

Allan Hyde passed away in December 2023, and during his lifetime he was truly a patriot of Roatan. He accomplished many things that we enjoy and take for granted. He left some big shoes to fill, and I hope that in the future we will have many more Roatan patriots like him – men of vision and determination who work to make their lives and our communities a better place to live.

So, in preparation of their arrival Dullie anchored the boat by the ble rocks at the entrance of French Harbour lagoon and crawled back into his hole. Dullie waited, but they never came. A new judge took over and decided to dismiss the case as no one got hurt. On another occasion some custom officials came to French Cay to search Dullie’s boat, but he fired a couple shots at the whole crew and the Official told the captain to turn around and get the hell out of there because that guy was crazy.

On one occasion, the custom officials obtained a life boat belonging to Charlie Osgood who got it of the SS Snyg that ran agroAZund off Crawfish Rock in 1899. Upon arriving in French Cay, the officers attempted to confiscate Dullies boat and contraband. They were soon greater by the shouts of his booming voice: “the first man to step foot on this beachhead will be a dead son of a bitch.”

Dullie had the reputation of being a tough, but fair man. Another islander once said something about him behind his back one day and he found out. Dullie confronted this man about it saying — “admit it and live, or deny it and die” — to which the island man shuddered, admitted it and then apologized, Dullie let him go.

Someone opened fire through the window.

A few years later the family was going through a dispute regarding property. Two cousins involved were scared of him and what the outcome would be so, one day these two brothers, a friend and a cousin got together.

After drinking all morning, they saw Dullie casually walking down the street with his gun over his shoulder in a sack and accompanied by his 12 year old son Joe. Someone opened fire through the window shooting Dullie. It was January 28, 1935.

My dad Archie Jones always said he didn’t think the man who took the blame for the killing actually did it, as this man was near sighted and not a good shot with a rifle.

This man ran away to Belize to live and his brother soon followed him there with his family. The third cousin in the group was a boy of 15 who went away to work on the sea and joined the US merchant Marines. Forty years later, this boy retired back to Roatan and on his deathbed, he told his son and other family members that it was actually him who fired the gun that killed Dullie and not my cousin who took the blame.

He said this was the one act that he regretted his whole life. This man’s son and Dullie’s grandson turned out to be really good friends and drinking buddies. One day at Romero’s bar and restaurant the man’s son revealed his father’s death bed confession to his friend, Dullie’s grandson.

They both agreed it was water under the bridge and that it would not affect their friendship in anyway. They embraced each other with this promise. Dullie’s family could now find closure to this story. All persons mentioned in this article have since passed on.

Dullie’s ancestors were from Plymouth, Massachusetts dating back to 1752. They sided with the colonists and fought against the British for their independence. His grandfather was born around 1810 in Plymouth, Massachusetts arriving to Roatan around 1840.

Dullie was born in 1889, in French Cay, Roatan. During the start of World War I in Europe, there were some English soldiers stationed in Belize and some volunteers that were supposed to be shipped out to Europe. Dullie heard about this so he took a dory with a sail and sailed to Belize where he volunteered for the fight. The group was shipped to Jamaica B.W.I. and then on to battle fields of WWI. With a little training in Jamaica and Egypt before seeing action in France.

He came back up with two sticks of M-90 Dynamite.

He was captured at some point during the War and spent time in Kaiser Wilhelm jail as a POW. Upon the end of the War, they were shipped back to Jamaica, how many returned is unclear, but Dullie made it back. Some people said the war changed him, saying he was shell-shocked, now known today as PTSD.

He owned some property in the French Cay area, where he started farming and buying coconuts to make copra. He also opened a small store and raised his family. He obtained a small sailing boat that he would use to make trips to Belize and back bringing supplies for his store. The local officials said that he was smuggling.

He would arrive in French Cay at night. On one of these trips coming back the wind was not in his favor, by morning he only made it to the area, where the airport is today. He did not make it to French Cay during the night like before. The officials in Coxen Hole could see the boat out there, so they sent a captain and two soldiers out in a small power boat to intercept him. When they arrived they didn’t see anyone aboard so they started to call out – “is there anyone aboard?”

Dullie had gone below in the hold of the boat, he came back up with two sticks of M-90 Dynamite, one in each hand and both were lit. Dullie fired one of them at the boat, the captain saw this and turned the boat to avoid it causing it to land in the water next to them. This scared them causing them to flee.

As they were leaving, Dullie threw the second stick of dynamite at them. In a fright, when they arrived to Coxen Hole, they ran their boat’s bow aground on the beach where the public park is located today. The Captain was from Coxen Hole along with two soldiers. When they got back to land, they tried to tell the officials what had taken place, but all that was understood was gibberish because they were so scared.

He ate some of the food she left out for him and went to his room to get his passport, but couldn’t find it. He began to search the room, and eventually found where his wife had hidden it. She did not want him to go.

When Mr. Cleary arrived in French Harbour, Mr. Jackson was still asleep. His companion Victoria Jones did not want Cleary to wake him up, as she did not want him to go on the trip either. Darwin had been up all-night drinking and was frustrated with the many delays he was experiencing Cleary Jones woke Darwin up anyway and they left and boarded the Night Hawk. By 5pm, the entire crew was present for departure: Darwin Jackson, Daniel Gómez, Cleary Jones, Roy Bodden, Felix Bodden, Dick Dixon, Sam Collins, Charles Hyde, Arlenton Godfrey, Nathan McKenzie and an American Scott Harris.

A Hybur ship sailed from French Harbor to Belize on Monday evening, December 20. When they arrived Tuesday morning, Captain Willie Elwin Inquired about the Night Hawk and was told she never docked. He called Captain Myrl Hyde in French Harbor to contact Albert Jackson and let him know that something was wrong. The Night Hawk was not in Belize. A search was organized, which included planes that flew between Roatan and the Belize Cays, but nothing was seen or found.

A few days later, some 50-gallon drums were found drifting ashore on Utila. One of the drums had the initials E.C., which stood for Evans Cooper. He owned a store in Oakridge and had sent drums to buy Kerosene in Belize on the Night Hawk. On inspection, you could see that the drums had been on fire. All kinds of rumors swirled around. One theory was that in the rush to sail, the stove fell into the sea while it was still connected. Perhaps the fuel line was not connected properly to the gasoline engine, and it either caused a fire or an explosion.

Some 50-gallon drums were found drifting ashore on Utila.

When the Night Hawk disappeared, I was in Nicaragua, shrimping at the time. When I got back home in April of 1972, the rumors about what happened were still the main topic of conversation in the small town of French Harbor. I decided to see what I could find out about what happened for myself.

I went to visit a friend, Mrs. Iva Whittaker, whom I had known since I was a child. Our families had been friends for generations. She lived on Big Bight on the North side of Roatan, on a hill with an unobstructed view of the ocean. As it got dark, she was in her yard making a fire to deter sandflies. She saw a flash on the horizon, and a fire that burned for a while. She was home alone, so no alarm was made. Big Bight was very isolated at that time, and I believed what she told me.

My theory is that when Ida saw the flash, around sunset, the men on the Night Hawk would have likely been making coffee. When they lit the stove, it exploded, causing the fire to spread very quickly. This spread instantly to the engine room, where the fuel lines and gasoline were located. This caused an even bigger explosion, which was the Flash that Ida saw, followed by the fire.

Other rumors were that they were hijacked, and the boat set ablaze. There were reports that the crew had been seen in Cuba. The Night Hawk and crew met their fate that night about ten miles north of Big Bight off the North side of Roatan.

By Truman Jones

Eventually, the comandante at Coxen Hole seized the Night Hawk and detained Mr. Jackson, accusing him of smuggling contraband. The judge ordered the cargo to be unloaded, but all that was found were several cases of Cosco Soap. The issue was resolved after a couple of weeks, upon which Mr. Jackson and the Night Hawk crew were released… As for whatever happened to the contraband, that remains a mystery. The rumor is that they drank it all.

Mr. Jackson continued his business for some additional years on Big French Caye, and then proceeded to relocate to French Harbor. They were on a hill across from the canal where he built his home and raised his family.

There are numerous theories and rumors as to what happened.

He continued to embark on many other business ventures over the years. In 1960, he built a small store by a bridge called Sidney Bridge, a few hundred feet down from present day cement bridge. As business boomed, he added another room for a meat shop, being a talented butcher as well. He installed freezers to keep the meat fresher longer. Whatever cut you desired, he would cut with a handsaw for you.

Mr. Jackson, a well-liked man, always had a lot of company around him. He added an extra room where his customers and friends could watch him cut meat while they enjoyed a cold beer. With his growing success, he purchased another boat from his cousin Hanow Jackson, a boat builder in Jonesville. The boat was built, launched, and christened the Night Hawk.

After a disagreement between Darwin & Hanow, Darwin took the boat to French Harbor to finish some work on it. Paul E. Dixon, a carpenter known as Dick Dixon, resumed work on the Night Hawk. But on December 19, 1971, Jackson – rushing the schooner’s completion in time for Christmas – launched the Night Hawk for a trip to Belize, and neither he nor the Night Hawk were never seen or heard from again.

There are numerous theories and rumors as to what happened to the Night Hawk, but no one knows for sure.

By Truman Jones

Captain Scott navigated numerous ports across the Caribbean, such as Jamaica, the Cayman Islands, the Isles of Pines, Roatan, Havana, Key West, Tampa, Mobile, Cozumel, and Belize.

During his frequent visits to French Harbour, he crossed paths with Mary McNab, a descendant of one of the pioneering families in the area. Captain Scott gained recognition as one of the foremost schooner captains in the Caribbean during this era.

In 1903, Captain Scott and Mary McNab joined in matrimony. Then, on October 15, 1904, they welcomed their first child, a lovely, blonde-haired girl named Selma Hellen Scott, who would later become my mother. Captain Scott made a pivotal decision to establish French Harbour as his primary home port.

Within French Harbour, he undertook the construction of a three-story residence complete with a dock adjacent to the Harbour. The first floor served as storage for the cedar lumber he had transported all the way from Mobile, Alabama. Captain Scott, alongside Captain William C. Borden, earned recognition for their significant contributions in supplying the lumber that went into building many of the homes throughout the Bay Islands.

Tragedy struck the schooner Maggie G Williams.

In 1907, another girl was born, Leila May Scott. William C. Jones, a businessman in French Harbour, owned a store and a schooner. He offered Captain Scott a job on the schooner. By 1910, yet another girl was born, Edna P. Scott. It was at this point that Captain Scott decided to inform William to seek another captain, as he desired to stay closer to his family. Captain Scott, in collaboration with his cousin, acquired a schooner of their own in Mobile, Alabama.

Captain Scott assumed command of the newly acquired schooner in July 1911. Earlier, in February 1911, he had handed over the reins of the schooner Maggie G Williams to its new captain. However, due to illness from Malaria, the designated captain couldn’t embark on the voyage. The owner then sought out Captain Scott and requested him to undertake the favor of sailing the schooner on one final journey. Captain Scott accepted the task.

All went well in the beginning, but in May, tragedy struck the schooner Maggie G Williams. Departing from Key West with Captain Scott and ten other sailors aboard, they vanished without a trace. Captain Scott was just a few months shy of his 30th birthday.

In my opinion, as a captain myself, the weather in Florida during May contributed to the tragic incident. In May, these waters can be prone to sudden, monstrous storms that pop up out of nowhere. These storms can produce water spouts and tornadoes, and create winds upwards of 70 mph. I firmly believe it was a storm that claimed the lives of Maggie G. Williams, Captain Scott, and the ten sailors, consigning them to a sailor’s watery grave.

As I stood on the porch of my home in Brick Bay, I watched the ship carrying my grandfather’s headstone enter the French Harbour channel. The sun was shining her rays onto the ship from just above the horizon. I thought to myself: “Captain Scott, you finally made it back to your home port, on the other side of the sea that you sailed across so many times in 112 years.”

He was my first cousin and closest friend. I was five years older than him and recall visiting Dudley as a newborn with my mother. We came up to a small little wooden house with a lamp light burning in the room; the belief back then is that a well lit room was not good for the infant’s eyes.

My nephew Rodney Jones was born in November 1950, and these two little boys were like little brothers to me. We would often go fishing in a paddling dory. Rodney had an air rifle, and they were always shooting at crabs. I would judge who the best marksman was. They both turned out to be pretty good. Tyson McNab, the commandant in French Harbour, would hoist the Honduran flag in honor of president Carías’s birthday on March 15. Mr. Tyson McNab loved to pick DV up as a little boy. DV would stand at attention as Mr. Tyson hoisted the flag and saluted. They would take turns marching around the flag. This routine would continue for several years; DV told me this story many times laughing. He said that uncle Ty would wear him out marching then take him back home.

He was interested in carpentry work from a young age. He went to work with his uncle Homer Woods, who was the top carpenter. In 1969, I took him with me on the Mr. B to fish for lobsters. By the end of the trip, he had adapted to the lifestyle and the worked well. He was very good at it. DV could have continued to work with me to become captain on a fishing boat, but the family were more so tied to the construction business. DV decided to continue working under his Uncle Homer.

His first job as a young man was in construction of the French Harbour Yacht Club. In 1971, finished a cement house for Kern Hyde. In 1972 he built Captain Bob’s house, and then in ‘73 he built mine. These houses were the first three modern cement homes in French Harbour. DV used to call my house his model home, and would bring customers over to see it. Some of his biggest projects included Casa Warren, Fantasy Island Resort, Albert Jackson mansion (located at Fantasy Island), and Captain Mead Hyde’s Mansion. He continued to build across the island. He was known for his attention to detail and producing fine quality homes.

DV had many hobbies − shooting, volleyball, and especially fishing. He attended many fishing tournaments, the first being at Fantasy Island. He participated in most of them at West End, Utila, and Omoa. He won several of them and he was very proud of these accomplishments. In his professional life, DV went on to open a hardware store, a lumber yard, and a construction company.

His first job as a young man was in construction of the French Harbour Yacht Club.

He eventually built himself a mansion of his own. The master bedroom was bigger than the house he was born in. Rufus told me a story once where he was talking to my father about a young lady he was wanting to court. He wanted to visit her a few times to make sure he really liked her. My father (Archie) responded with − “Bullshit, if you like her, you will know it when you see her.” My father believed that you know it when you see it − love at first sight.

A few years later, Rufus was building a house in Bonacca. He was working on the roof when he looked down at the road and saw a pretty girl walking by. “A feeling hit me,” Rufus once told me. He climbed down the roof and asked his client who that girl was. By the time the sun went down, he was at her house. When he returned to French Harbour to visit he told me, “Uncle Archie really knows what he’s talking about. I am going to marry that girl primo!”

When he was ready to marry, he asked me if I could take him to get married the old fashion way − by boat to Coxen Hole. For this occasion, I obtained flags on the Hybur ship from all over the world and decorated the Miss Vangie Marilynn.

When we arrived at the dock in Coxen Hole, the comandante and a few soldiers met us there. He wanted to know what was happening, as he was new to the Island and hadn’t seen something like this before. I explained to him that this is an old Island tradition when someone gets married. We then invited him to join us for a cold beer, and became friends from that day forth. Towards the end of the night, they had a band-dance at the French Harbour Yacht Club, a party that would last all night.

Rufus had his wedding suit tailor made to fit. This wouldn’t be the last time he would wear this suit. He would continue to wear this suit for special occasions for many years. He would often brag that he is the only island man who could still fit in his wedding suit, 20 years later.