Day charters · for charter yachts, brokers and crews · St. Thomas
A day off the boat.
Two private yachts, one party at a time, collected from your stern and returned to it. An evening under sail and a candlelit dinner aboard Lauren L; a day's fishing, cruising or a dry run to the BVI aboard Loaded Lines. We invoice the yacht.
Request an excursion
She has already sailed around the world.
Now she takes six people to dinner.
Ninety feet of Ron Holland sloop — long, dark-hulled, low in the water, and built to be sailed properly rather than motored about. She has crossed oceans and come home again, and she carries it the way an old house carries the people who have lived in it.
Three evenings a week she is yours. No other party aboard. No schedule except the one the wind gives you that night, and four crew looking after six people.
Six guests. Not twelve on a boat that suits six.
Or take her for the day.
Day sails and sunset sails for up to six. Plan the day with the crew: a long sail or a short one, a quiet anchorage, a swim off the stern, an hour on the paddleboards, lunch on deck, or out at the end of the afternoon to watch the sun go down under sail.
Captain, mate, cook and stewardess. Food and drinks aboard. An all-battery installation, so there is no generator running: she sails in silence, and the air conditioning stays on.
Trade rates on request. The evening below is priced as a whole.
A room with the sea on every side.
Dinner is served inside, at a proper table. The deckhouse is glass the whole way round and the windows sit low, so from your chair there is nothing between you and the water — just blue sea, the anchor light, and whatever is left of the sunset.
Cool inside. Candles lit. Crotch mahogany overhead, glowing the way old wood does under a warm lamp. Six chairs, one table, and nobody else aboard.
The engine goes off, the sails go up, and for the next two hours nobody says very much. The sail out
She is quiet in a way boats rarely are. Nothing running, nothing humming, no other party on board — only water moving under the hull and the rigging talking to itself. When the anchor goes down even that stops.
From your dock, and back to it.
Times shift with sunset through the season. We confirm the real clock when we confirm your evening.
From Compass Point, Cowpet Bay, the Ritz-Carlton dock, Red Hook, a villa dock or your own yacht's stern. You come to her across the water and see her from below, which is the only way a boat this size should ever be met.
Main and headsail, and the engine off the moment she starts to draw. She leans, settles, and goes quiet. Anyone who wants the wheel gets the wheel.
Somewhere sheltered and empty, chosen that afternoon. Sails down, the boat goes still, and the evening changes character.
Outside for the last of the light, with the crew stepping back and leaving you to it. Twenty minutes where nothing is asked of you and nothing is brought.
Candles already lit, the table laid, the room cool. Four courses across an unhurried ninety minutes, wine chosen for them, and the anchorage in the glass all the way around you.
Dessert, coffee and a rum back out on deck under the rig lights. Then the tender takes you in — and she stays exactly where she is, lit, getting smaller behind you.
Cooked aboard, that evening, for six.
Not carried out in a box and reheated. A cook working for six people, with a whole evening to give them, can do things a restaurant kitchen turning forty covers cannot — and this is food built that way. Precise, plated properly, and served the moment it is ready to somebody sitting four steps from the galley.
We talk it through with you about a week ahead, so the menu is shaped around what you actually like to eat and around whatever came off the boats that morning.
Four courses. Something cold and sharp from the sea to open — raw fish, citrus, a little heat. A small warm course after it. Then the main, built on whatever was landed that morning and finished at the table. And a dessert made with fruit that grew within sight of where you're anchored.
Coffee afterwards, and three aged rums brought out and talked about, which is usually where the evening slows down and stays a while.
Allergies, anything you don't eat, anything you'd rather not see on a plate — all handled in that conversation, not on the night. Cooking for six means we can do almost anything with a little notice.
One party a night, three nights a week. The boat is priced as a whole, not by the seat.
Includes private use of Lauren L; captain, deckhand, steward and cook; welcome Champagne and cocktails; four courses with wine; dessert, coffee and the rum service; tender transfers both ways; and the run home anywhere on the East End. Taxes and marine park fees billed separately. Friday and Saturday are priced as a whole boat whatever the headcount.
The same three evenings, taken further.
- Vintage or grower Champagne on boarding
- Premium wine paired course by course, and a premium spirits tray
- A longer evening — earlier boarding, more time under sail
- Five courses, or a menu built with you in the week beforehand
- Flowers, and the table dressed accordingly
- A photographer aboard for the first hour
- Concierge coordination around the evening
Christmas and New Year week, Presidents' week, Easter and Valentine's Day carry a minimum spend. New Year's Eve is a separate evening and opens in September.
After dinner the tender takes your friends home. You stay.
The boat is yours for the night, at anchor, with the crew aboard and entirely out of sight. A last drink on deck with nobody else on the water and no reason to go anywhere. Then the master — cool, dark, and quiet enough to hear the water against the hull an arm's length from your head.
You wake up somewhere no hotel can put you. Swim off the stern before anyone else is awake, breakfast on deck, and the tender runs you in around ten — later, if you'd rather.
Six for dinner, two overnight. Offered on request and on a limited number of evenings — ask when you enquire.
Most sailing yachts make you choose between sailing and sleeping. Hers doesn't: the master runs the full width of the boat, with standing headroom and a bed you would happily keep at home. A room, not a berth.
Rain does not end the evening.
Dinner is inside, so at worst a wet evening costs you the champagne on deck. We only stand down for sea and wind, the captain makes that call by midday, and he makes it honestly. If we stand down you take another evening or a full refund — your choice, not ours.
A day's fishing, a day's cruising, or a dry run to the BVI.
A sportfisher with a tower, a fighting chair and a cabin below. Up to six guests, with her captain. Lines out and the chair aft, or the islands at your own pace, or across to the BVI at 28 knots with nobody getting wet.
Trade rates on request. The BVI day needs passports on the dock at 07:45.
Booked by the yacht, invoiced to the yacht.
Charter yachts, management companies and brokers: we invoice the yacht and pay 10% commission to the booking broker. Guests are collected from your stern anywhere from Charlotte Amalie east to Coral Bay, and returned to it.
Tell us the yacht's name and where she lies; the rest is ours.
Tell us the yacht, the day and how many are coming.
We'll come back within the day with what's free, and hold the evening for forty-eight hours while you think about it. The menu conversation comes later, once the night is yours.