He’s talking to me, isn’t he?
“Bring the injured to Captain Betts and gather the able-bodied. We must recover the sails for tents, or we’ll have nowhere to shelter the injured from the bugs. Once the sun goes down, the bugs will be attracted to the blood and try to eat us alive,” replies Eze.
Wait, there’s more to this! There was something important…some reason why we had to enter the island by the river…a reason why we had to cast anchor before sunset…Flint knew… If I can find Flint, he will tell me what’s so important about daylight. It wasn’t the bugs.
“Whoa there,” Eze says as I wobble into his embrace. “Let’s not try walking or standing until you’re saying words, yeah? Words first, then things that make you a fall risk.”
“Where’s Flint?”
“You heard Chub…I’m not to say…besides, I couldn’t if I wanted to because I haven’t seen him since the crash.”
Shiver Me Timbers! Where’s Flint?
Flint
There’s the railing again. Right in the gut. Our next boat will have taller or shorter railings, either one, as long as they’re not at my gut level. I couldn’t even hang onto the blasted thing when the boat snapped in half. A wave decided I should be smacked against it repeatedly, as if Mother Nature took her turn beating me for my past sins. Eze floated above me on the surface as if an invisible force carried him home. Probably the spirit of his mother, who died defending this beach.
Lucky bastard.
I breached the surface with a barrel of apples. Clinging to the parcel for dear life, I swim aimlessly in circles, looking for signs of Betts. I wish my eyesight were better. As more mateys gather on the shore, my hopes soar that one of them is her. Thewaist-length red hair is hard to miss. Until I see it waving like the sun’s flag, I’ll have to assume she’s still trapped under the ship’s wheel—except the ship’s wheel now stands about twenty feet above the water’s surface.
I surmise the crew was thrown from the boat when it tipped forward. Then, when the boat split in half, the two halves righted themselves in water shallower than the boat’s height. Now I’m down here with the lower deck’s spoils, while the helm, where I last saw my lady love, towers above me.
What would Magda do? Fry in the waning sunlight. What would Teeth do? Hmmm, he was an opportunist at heart. Inspired by my apple barrel, I might as well use the bits of floating rope and torn sails to tie together buoyant supplies. When the crew on the shore finds me, they will find a bounty of stuff to survive on the beach.
Betts will beam with pride.
Bag of bandages from the infirmary? Don’t mind if I do.
Limes floating free from the galley? I’ll take those, and thanks for the empty gunpowder sack to contain them.
Look! There’s one of Magda’s journals! Is that her first one? It must have floated free from my bunk! The orlop deck would be exposed since the boat snapped in two. Are there any of me hearties’ treasures around here? I vaguely remember Eze yelling for everyone to grab their valuables when he rang the alarm bell. I didn’t stop for stuff when Betts needed me, and I doubt many of them grabbed their—See? There are pages from Greenhorn’s sketchbook. That pearly hairbrush belongs to Gunter.
My collection has grown to two large sails rolled into ropes and stuffed with treasures tied to two apple barrels, the sterncastle railing for a frame, and the bed from the infirmary.I almost have enough to make a raft. As I wrap abandoned personal effects in the sails, my mind drifts back to what Betts prized most. She loved Sabrina most, and by the Gods, I’d love for those squirrely kraken to show up right now. Oh right. She also had her box of treasures in the captain’s quarters. Her room and the navigation room were locked tight, so they should still be sealed under the sea. If I can step in quickly, I bet I can seal myself in there.
“Take mercy on me,” Gunter croaks. He’s lying on a large piece of forecastle deck. It’s wide enough that he can lie flat and distribute his weight. It’s quite genius.
“Gunter, old friend,” I cheer.
He raises his head. Tears stream down his face.
“I thought I was adrift at sea. I assumed I’d have to wait for the birds to eat my eyeballs before I was rescued. I’d spend the rest of my life frightening children with my empty eye sockets like a living legend. They’d call me…they’d call me…”
“Blind Gunter?”
“Gunter who has no eyes.” Well, he never was very imaginative.
“It doesn’t matter because you float in less than a fathom of water. Look! Most of the crew swam ashore. You can see them organizing a search party for you on the beach.”
“The beach? Where’s a beach?” His pupils are reacting to light, and he’s not bleeding, so I rule out injury as the cause of his pudding head. I believe his denseness is all Gunter. He sits up to look at the beach, and his plank sinks below the surface. It must have been an act of God to balance his arse on the exact surface area of wood to survive. “I must go.”
“Yes, you must,” I say, nodding, because I can’t forage as much if I’m worried about him drowning. “How about you take this first batch of supplies to shore? I’ll take your plank while you lie your belly over one of my apple barrels. That’s it. Kick your feet and allow the surf to take you onto shore. This way, you’re big enough to be spotted on land. The crew will help you on the last leg of your trip.”
“What about you?”
“I’m on a mission,” I say with more bravado than I feel. “If you see Betts, tell her I’m on my way.”
As he fades away on the waves, I decide to ditch his plank. Damn thing won’t hold my weight for all the tea in China. I won’t need it where I’m going anyway. The second half of the boat is in much better shape than the forecastle half. I swim into what’s left of the kitchen. The crew should have no trouble reclaiming the utensils, pots, and pans. Even the scraggly rosemary plant I left behind is bolted to the wall as if Catty will walk into the kitchen at any minute to yell at everyone for spilling her tools on the dirty floor.
