"A small group of us were gathered on the beach. It was mid-morning and we were taking a break from the sun. But there was little shade to find on Anguilla after this small Caribbean island had taken a direct hit from Luis, a category 4 hurricane.
There was major damage. The power was still out. There were no leaves left on the trees.

I had been working for a bed and breakfast that summer, when I found myself in one of the worst hurricanes to hit this Leeward Island in more than a century. The storm's reminders were all around us as we removed trash and debris from a popular local restaurant.

Before Hurricane Luis, Scilly Cay (pronounced Silly Key) had been one of the island's most gorgeous (and expensive) dining establishments, with lunch for two easily run¬ning over $100. But boy was it worth it. The place was on a tiny island some 150 feet off the mainland's shore in the middle of the harbor. It was encased in a conch shell wall that wound its way in and out of tables filled with sun-burned tourists who'd usually had too much to drink.

To get there you'd wave from the dock and they'd zip over in a water taxi. You'd be whisked away for an incredible barbecued lobster and rum concoc¬tions that enhanced some of the best snorkeling on the island.

But all that was gone now, except for a few concrete slabs. “Da sea done took it bac, man,” the locals proclaimed. We were trying to salvage what was left. One of the restaurant's prize possessions was a huge oak bar that had been custom built for Scilly Cay. Half of it was found on shore of the main island. The other half found its final resting place on the sea floor. The fact that half of the bar had made it to the main land, spoke volumes about the torrential gusts that accompanied Hurricane Luis. The reported sustained winds of 200 mph had pushed that huge piece of wood across the top of the water some 250 feet without sinking!

I looked over at it again and shook my head in disbelief. If only it were full, full of cold beer and frosty beverages, I thought. People always report about the need for the basics after a hurricane: water, food and shelter. But after a week, folks start to miss their cold beer. You could start to feel the tension rise across the island.

All of the liquor stores had been emptied before Hurricane Luis (how do you think you get through a category 4 storm?) And the supply boats, if they arrived at all, were carrying necessities, not liquor.

Perhaps it was the growing heat of the day and my thirst, that gave birth to my idea. The theory was simple. If the force of the hurricane had pushed that huge oak bar across the bay, then surely its liquid libations were buried in the harbor waters.
I ran to get my snorkel gear. Now keep in mind, a hurricane the force of Luis made a murky mess of normally blue-green lagoons. In most places, post hurricane ocean floors held cloudy secrets, dangerous things. Not many people were going into the sea.

But, I was willing to take the risk. For if I was right, there was enough booze buried in that bay for one roaring party. And we needed it. I convinced two locals to join me in this underwater excavation. They were big, strong men, perfect to execute my plan.
We started at the edge of Scilly Cay in shallow waters, where things were a bit clearer. Nothing. A few more feet off shore we dove down wearing gloves we hoped would protect us from whatever unnatural predators might lie below. It was hard to see the bottom which made it scary. Not shark scary, but rebar-wire-sticking-up-out-of-cement and broken glass scary. As I adjusted my mask, I saw one of the local men struggling to bring something up from the depths - it was a lawn chair. That was our ray of hope. My theory proved correct: the contents of gorgeous Scilly Cay had been dumped into the harbor. Our efforts started to draw some attention on shore.

Then finally, smack in the middle of the harbor, we hit pay dirt. I recognized the label, even through the murky water. I wondered if it was broken, as I rose empty-handed to the sea's surface. "I found something," I cried out as my lungs filled with air. I dove down a second time. Unbelievable! It was intact, cap and all. I ascended once again, this time allowing my buried treasure to break the surface before me - one Red Stripe Beer! Let the party begin!

Most of our discoveries had been contaminated by saltwater. But, we uncovered enough good bottles from the sea floor to have a little party that night. We didn't care that the beer was warm. We didn't care that there was no ice or electricity to blend up a delicious daiquiri. We drank it like pirates who had just found buried treasure."