Ships are made for living, and lifeboats are made for dying. Sailors don't talk about it, but we all know it. It's been a good life, and I've traveled far, but now my die is cast. The deep blue has taken my ship, and I've been sentenced to a slow death by thirst. My name is Bothari, former first mate, and I was supposed to be in the captain's lifeboat. Instead, I was needed on the ropes to lower it. By the time I jumped in another boat, the storm was whipping, the ship was sinking, and men were screaming.
It's quiet now. We lost track of the other boats in the storm, and only four of us ended up in this floating coffin. Three idiots and a puppy. The first idiot is me. I was so busy lowering boats; I brought nothing but my sword. It's useful to have, unless there is nobody to fight for a thousand miles.
Cuthbert the carpenter is also in my boat. He is smart and skillful but didn't bring any water. The first day in the lifeboat, I asked Cuthbert if he could make water. He looked around the lifeboat and sorted through our small stockpile of supplies before saying no. Idiot.
Hudson ended up in my boat, a sure sign the fates are against me. The only thing dependable about Hudson is that he never knows what's going on. Another crewman once talked him into swallowing a farthing, promising it would come out a shilling. Hudson did not bring any water, and I don't shake hands with him. As soon as it becomes practical, I will kill him. He is the kind of man you don't want in your lifeboat.
The puppy is Gerard, although his status is rising in my opinion. Green as kelp, he was the only one to bring water. It was only half a waterskin and will be empty in three days. He also brought a bag of hard tack. I guess we could throw them at fish and maybe stun them long enough to grab. Gerard doesn't ramble like Hudson, who talks just to make noise, but he does ask a lot of questions. He learns fast and seems to have a good brain in there. Gerard also has a compass in that hunting pouch he wears. I think he would have been a good sailor in three years had we survived this.
The last time I heard the navigator talking, we were thousands of miles past Cape Horn. The ship was sailing North by Northwest into the South Pacific. I was never good with charts or maps and have no idea where that leaves us. I am thankful we made it this far north. The ocean was warmer, and the wind has lost the deathly bite it had as we passed the Horn. At least we won't freeze to death. We might live for six more days, or seven if we are lucky. That is how long it is going to take for us to die a slow, blistering, sun cracked death.
THIS EXCERPT IS FROM CHAPTER 14
IN THE BOOK GERARD'S FORTUNE.
Comments