Last night I threw darts on a chessboard. Amidst three-foot high knights and rooks on a checkered slab of cement I played cricket with a shapely native girl named Tanika. Behind me the sun seemed to levitate before disappearing beyond the orange Caribbean horizon. Just yards away, waves soflty lapped the white sands of the beach. Tanika brushed her dreadlocks out of her eyes yet another time before stepping up to our makeshift oche, two giant bishops on either side of a line marked off with a palm frond just under eight feet from the bull.