Early morning, November. Tiny Silver Cloud had docked in St. John’s, Antigua. After six tranquil days of crossing the Atlantic, I looked forward to stepping off the ship and onto terra firma. As I sat lacing up my shoes, suddenly the sunlight streaming into my stateroom began to darken. Through the sheer curtains, I could see why: A wall of balconies was pulling up alongside. Silver Cloud, capacity 296, meet Emerald Princess, capacity 3,080. Sigh, paradise lost.

Yes, I confess, having endured the Atlantic gauntlet where on some days there was not another ship in sight, I felt a sense of entitlement. I did not want to share my day in quaint St. John’s with 10 times more cruise passengers than had made that crossing with me. . Nonetheless, with shoes laced, I trundled down two sets of stairs and crossed the short gangway onto the pier. Take a deep breath, I told myself, and plunge in.

As someone who has written about the cruising lifestyle for more than two decades and who has cruised the Caribbean more than two dozen times, I know that there are many Caribbeans for cruisers to experience. There are the geographical divides, for example: Eastern Caribbean, Western Caribbean, Southern Caribbean.

But there’s also another pair of Caribbeans: Big-ship Caribbean and small-ship Caribbean. The two types of ships can cruise the same general area and never dock at the same port.

Certainly, both big and small have merit, but both also deliver deeply contrasting experiences.

For starters, on big ships, you can expect you’ll have plenty of company in ports, not only from your ship but also from the other ships that are calling at the same port on the same day. That’s because big ships are fairly limited with regard to where they can dock or drop anchor, so they all tend to visit the same places — sometimes all at once it seems.

Along with the masses disgorging from Emerald Princess in St. John’s, I walked along the pier, through the security gate and along a crowded waterway. Far from alone — or even alone enough to enjoy what could have been a serene experience — I finally gave up and went back to the ship.

Tiny islands

Contrast that to Bequia (pronounced Beck-Way), which I visited last fall on Silver Explorer. Total number of cruise passengers on the island northeast of Venezuela: fewer than 100 of us who had been zipped ashore on zodiacs to Port Elizabeth, Bequia’s capital.

The atmosphere in Port Elizabeth was totally relaxed, almost comatose. There were a few shops and a small market, but no pushy vendors. When a taxi driver suggested he haul a few of us across the island and we responded that we would prefer to walk instead, he put out his fist to bump knuckles with me, wishing me — and the others — a pleasant walk.

And so we walked — from the Caribbean Sea to the Atlantic Ocean and back, about six miles. The island was so quiet that we trundled along on the road without having to worry about traffic.

The landscape was gorgeous, and though it may sound clichéd, we stopped several times to smell the roses or whatever flora we came upon. The experience was unrushed and unmanufactured. No Starbucks or Diamonds International to distract us, just acres of beautiful palm trees and an infectious, laid-back island lifestyle.

It’s startling to think that Bequia’s entire population, 4,300, would not even fill the largest cruise ships, Oasis and Allure of the Seas, with passenger capacities of 6,296 each.