We (well, I, john) decided to stroll around to where it was moored by the old ferry quay, to snap the aft-deck, confirm the name and where it is registered (George Town, so I’m guessing that of the many George Towns it will be the one in the Caymans). Two (Greek) crew happened to be coming down the companionway, so I wished them good afternoon in Greek and asked if they could tell me who owned it (fully knowing what the answer would be, but there’s no harm in trying). They laughed and said ‘No’. I cheerfully said, that’s OK, I can look it up on the internet. Then one of them said, with faint menace, ‘You will never find out who owns this ship.’ I shrugged and walked off back along the paralia, and they followed, having an equally menacing conversation about nosey journalists, but they were detained by someone delivering something to the ship.
Superyacht crews often develop a Stockholm Syndrome relationship with their employers, and are paid well above the average to guard their owners’ privacy, although someone somewhere must see the owner boarding their craft at some point. One yacht magazine says it is owned by an east European oligarch (the name translates most popularly as the Rumanian for the number nine, so it’s probably a Rumanian billionaire), but it is bizarre that someone should go to such lengths to hide their identity, the identity of the ship and, natch, the provenance of the money they bought it with. In 2015 it was on the market for a trifling 26 million euro, but maybe one of our savvier readers can identify the owner.