LOST AT SEA CH. 1 Pt. 2 of 3

LOST AT SEA CH. 1 Pt. 2 of 3

She leaves. I eat my lunch and then stare out the window at the ghostly shape of the boat. The waves wash over it, and I can see the remains of the sails flapping underwater.

An hour later, Anita returns. "Muriel will take you out there. I don't want you to do it on your own."

Muriel rowed me out to my boat in their little dinghy and anchored. I dove in and swam down to the boat, where I found my flippers and mask, still tucked away where I left them. Then I started the grueling task of recovering as many things as I could. The most important was my strongbox, which had all my papers in it, including my money.

Then I mentioned the food. There was food, enough for six months, still on board most was canned or freeze-dried. Everything was kept in heavy waterproof pouches, which were not bad in the boat, but underwater, they were almost unmanageable. It took me a couple of hours to bring it up. We rowed back to the dock.

When we tied up the boat, Anita came down to see what I found. I told her, "It's all yours. The food, I mean." I smiled.

"It's probably bad," she replied. She turned around and went back to work.

Muriel was delighted. "Look at all this food," she beamed as we opened the bags. It was untouched, except for the cans which were a little crushed.

We carried it into the kitchen and put it away.

The stew she had going earlier was leavened with freeze-dried carrots, potatoes, and onions. My mouth watered as it simmered on the stove.

I took a couple of cans and asked her if I could open them.

"What's that?" Muriel asked.

"It's brown bread," I reply. "Just the thing with stew."

We sat down to dinner that evening. Anita ordered me to say grace.
"For what we about to receive, dear Lord, may we be truly thankful," I say with folded hands. "And God bless Anita and Muriel for saving my life."

As we ate, I said, "This is Barracoon Island, isn't it?"

Muriel nodded.

"I've been by here more times than I can count."

"In what?" says Anita.

"I was the first officer on the Andromeda," I reply. "We sailed here every other week. We brought in all the toilet paper," I said between bites. "And magazines, too. Plus, anything else that you couldn't grow or make on the island."

"That ship hasn't been here in two years," said Muriel. "It foundered the Christmas before last."

I put my fork down. "Oh," I said. "I had a couple of friends on board."

"There weren't any survivors," said Anita.

Muriel's eyes flashed. "Anita. That was cruel."

"But it was true," replied Anita evenly, taking a bite of the bread.

"That's good bread."

"I'm sorry, Michael," said Muriel. "She doesn't mean it."

Anita cleaned off her plate and put it in the sink, then stalked off.

"She's tense. You're not supposed to be here," Muriel said.

"I can't walk to Port Anne," I said. That was the only town on the island of St. Albans Island, and it was four miles away over the water.

"I know. Just don't get in her way."

I get up with her and start helping with the dishes. She liked my presence at the sink, and I could feel her relax. The edginess that Anita projected had a way of making people tense.

To make conversation, Muriel asked, "How long have you sailed?" She looks interested.

"Ten years. Four years on the Andromeda. I joined as the second officer and made the first officer just before I left."

"Why did you leave?"

"I didn't have a good relationship with the captain.

"You must have seen a lot."

"A little," I reply. "Mostly all the small islands in the Caribbean, like St. Albans, where bigger ships can't go. It was pretty routine."

The sun was getting low in the sky when we finished, and Muriel told me that she had to go and tend the light from twilight to midnight.

At twilight, I went out on the porch and watched her start the light.

Sure enough, the light flashed one long and three shorts. It was Morse "B", for Barracoon. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see the lights of a vessel passing by, making its way into Port Anne. It felt nice being on the other side of things. But I still longed to be on that ship.

Muriel sat down next to me and said, "I just love to see that old light flash like that. It is almost a hundred and fifty years old. Think of it, all those ships that have seen it."

"Yeah," I reply. "It's a welcoming sight. How long have you been doing this?"

"Fifteen years. I was the niece of the former keeper and lived with his family here. When he died, I applied for the job. Since no one else would take it, they gave it to me. Anita was at the other light on Snowdrift Point. She had enough experience to be the keeper. So, they brought her here and made her the head keeper."

We sat for a while, not saying anything. The night was clear, and a million stars filled the heavens.

But it was getting past my bedtime, and I was tired and sore from all the diving, so I got up and said, "Thank you for a wonderful dinner, ma'am. And your kind company."

I had been out on that boat for a month and her company was much appreciated.

"You're welcome, Michael," she said. "Sweet dreams."

I was so tired I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I woke up at noon the next day.

There was nothing for me to do, so I tried to relax, but it was not easy.

On the ship, there was always the day's work, and the boat was not too much different.

I liked that boat. It was a pity that it was gone.

So, the next few days passed, just as they did at sea, one day melted into another, and soon I was losing track of time.

Then one evening, around ten o'clock, I heard the kitchen door slam. I turned the lamp down and looked out of the window. Next to the lighthouse, there was a little storage shed. Like the light and the keeper's house, it was made from coral rock and painted a brilliant white. There was a small window on the side of the building, and that night there was a light within. The window was opened to catch the breeze. Their voices floated over to me on the gentle breeze. Then they became quiet and soon after that, I could hear their gasps and sighs.

To be continued