Page 19 of Totally Shipped
But I’ll keep watching over you forever.
Gray has built two raft bases in five days, and he looks fucking beat. The chopping and cleaning of tree trunks is brutal at the best of times, but with the ax-of-peril?
Glad it was him instead of me on that job.
Daisy has been busy weaving palm fronds tight to make a stiff sail of sorts; we figure the rafts need uprights to be more visible to ships. And the woven sails will help with visibility, too. Getting the mast to stay standing vertical has been the biggest pain in my ass, but I finally figured out a method using lengths of vine and treating the mast like an old-fashioned tent pole.
I’ve been pretty impressed with what Key came up with for making a message that could be read. Pokerwork.
Pokerwork, or pyrography, is when you heat metal, like a poker, and burn designs into wood or leather. She’s quite right; it’s the perfect waterproof, fade-proof way to write what we need.
Leander has been polishing pieces of aluminum with various fruit juices. Something about citric acid removing oxidation? Whatever it is, he’s definitely made them shine. We are adding these to the rafts as well, hopefully to work like signal mirrors.
Killian has made a new and improved SOS sign from felled branches and seaweed, and he and Leander have built a massive pile of firewood and palm fronds ready to be a signal fire. They also carefully collected pitch to use as an instant accelerant.
All in all, we are better prepared to signal for help if anything comes our way. And once we set the rafts out to sea, we’ll have rolled the dice on getting help that way too.
Now I’m just anxious to start preparing for ‘winter’. Killian and I are going to hike to the highest point of the island and find somewhere up there to build a retreat.
I watch Daisy and Key playing in the shallows, splashing water on each other, and my heart beats a little faster. “Get those signal mirrors attached, Leander,” I yell at him.
Time is ticking, every second bringing us closer to the storms and the baby that will be intersecting soon.
OCTOBER (probably)
DAISY
The last few months have gone by so quickly.
It seems like no time since I had a flat stomach and no belief that I was actually pregnant. Now, at maybe eighteen weeks along, I have a cute little bump. I smooth my hands over my shirt, and can’t help smiling to myself.
The guys have been working non-stop. Our beach side shelters are reinforced and water-tight, and we now have an ‘outpost’ half way up a ridge towards the center of the island. Rex and Killian had discovered a system of caves, and had been storing bottles of water and coconuts in there, along with piles of firewood.
During this time, there has been zero sign of Harvey, thank cheese-its.
While the guys work, I stay on the beach with Key, doing lessons, playing, and looking out to sea for rescue. More now than ever, I need to see a ship on the horizon or a plane in the sky.
I already love this baby so much, and I want ultrasounds, vitamins, and doctors, and all the things that will give him or her the best chance to thrive.
What I do have is breadfruit, and that’s definitely better than nothing. I am always hungry.Always.
Leander discovered breadfruit basically by tripping over one. Now that we know what we are looking for, we are finding patches of them all over the place.
So the days have been busy, but the nights have been long and languorous. Rex and Key have their own sleeping area now, and I spend the night with my guys. Sometimes there is love making, sometimes cuddling, or stories, or massages. Gray does a coconut oil rub on my poor tired feet that is out of this world.
The love we share is like nothing I could have ever dreamed of. Not an ounce of jealousy comes between us; we know that we are all better together. With my guys, I feel like I can face anything, which is a good thing, really, seeing as I’ll probably be giving birth in twenty-odd weeks.
The sun is lowering its way down the sky, so I call Keyara. “Come help me with dinner, sweetpea?”
We walk back to camp, ready to cook yet more breadfruit and fish. The catch of the day is already gutted and gently cooking over the fire, and breadfruit is steaming in the cast iron pan.
I give Killian a grateful nod.
“This wasn’t me, but I’ll take the credit! You look beat, macushla. Lay down for a while, I’ll make food.”
I’m not going to argue; Iamtired. I get tired so quickly now.
“Can I go play, then?” asks Key.
