Who writes the captains log when you have no captain? Our ship the St. George was damaged and sank in a storm just three nights ago. In the dark and confusion, we lost sight of Captain Roche and the other lifeboats. Only four people ended up in this longboat, lost, adrift, and alone. My name is Gerard, a former hunter and gamekeeper from Falstone England. I left home months ago being drawn by the lure of the sea. It has called to me for years and has appeared in my dreams more often than not. Now I am surrounded by the thing I love, and it is probably going to kill me. I decided to keep a log for two different reasons; in case we make it, and in case we don't. Either way, people will know we were here. I hope for a way out of this mess, but looking out over the endless sea, hope is hard to find.
In the lifeboat with me is Bothari, the Master of Arms. A huge man crisscrossed with scars, tattoos, and a propensity for violence. He almost never talks, but you can always see him watching. His face is like granite, and it is hard to know what he is thinking. Hudson is one of the sailors from the ship who seemed to bounce from job to job. He has a nervous air about him and seems uncertain about his skill. His stories meander and leave you looking for an escape. The third man with me is Cuthbert, one of the ships carpenters. He is closer to my age than the other two and is exceedingly clever. He was friendly to me from the beginning on the St. George and I'm happy he ended up in our lifeboat.
We don't have much in the way of supplies and what little water we had is already gone. When the St. George broke up on the shoals, it seemed more important to get the lifeboats in the water rather than provision the boats. I managed to grab one waterskin before jumping in the boat, but I was the only one to think of it. We have some hard tack, if we get desperate enough to eat it. I also have my knife, compass, and glass lens I keep in my leather belt pouch.
I keep thinking about Captain Roche and his rule of three. He told me a man can last three minutes without air, three days without water, and three weeks without food. No matter what direction I look, there is nothing but the vastness of the sea. I still find it just as beautiful as it was in my dreams. Beautiful things in nature have adapted over time to kill you more efficiently.
Hudson thinks we should proceed east, looking for other lifeboats. Cuthbert thinks we should continue north, as that was our previous heading. I'm of a mind to sail west; searching for water is our best chance at survival. For now, I keep my council to myself. I am the youngest in the boat, and the least experienced sailor. Still, agreeing to the wrong decision will kill me just as dead. When you only have one choice to survive, it makes you decisions easier.
THIS EXCERPT IS FROM CHAPTER 14
IN THE BOOK GERARD'S FORTUNE.
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