Any Port in a Storm: Chapter 6

Ash's Story

Tony, using our single oar as a paddle, rowed for as long and as strong as he could.  As the island continued to sit there in the distance seeming to neither get closer nor further away our giddiness at the discovery soon switched to a grim determination.  When Tony hit his limit I moved to take over.  Back home he never would have accepted this help but the stakes were too high now to stand on chivalry.  Without a word he let the oar go and slumped down for a well earned rest.

I couldn't paddle nearly as deeply or powerfully as my much larger husband but I did my very best.

We were hot, we were tired, and we were dehydrated but fate had tossed us one last chance at life and we were both determined to seize it or die trying.  Taking shifts we never let up.  As the hours passed the only mercy were the clouds that had started to gather gave us a much needed respite from the baking sun.  It looked like at long last it might rain tonight.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the small island gradually gets closer.

As it got close enough to start to make out details we could see that this was not a tropical vacation paradise.  From this side there were no bright sandy beaches sloping gently up into lush rain forest.  It resembled Pitcairn with its tall jagged limestone sea cliffs.  Pillars of rock jutted up out of the waters before the cliffs.  In our tiny boat they would be easy to avoid but larger ships would be forced to give the island a wide berth.  Atop the cliffs greenery could be seen and further inland a tall slanted peak towered over the area.

Had we both oars and had we been stronger we might have circumnavigated the area to look for a better place to land.  As it was we just made straight for it.

When I wasn't paddling I scanned the waters for local fisherman or other boats.  I peered into the sky hoping to see planes or smoke trails.  I was looking for any sign of a human presence.  All I saw were the birds that nested on the cliffs rocky outcrops.

The light was waning as was our strength.  We had to keep going.  To stop, to rest, to pause at all might mean being swept back out to sea to our certain doom.  We could not afford a backward step now.

Tony's Story

The muscles of my back and arms shook with fatigue as I used the oar like a canoe paddle and made for the tall rocky shoreline.  I'd never been more thirsty in my life.  My mouth was dry and I couldn't even sweat anymore.  When I took my breaks I would splash sea water over my torso to cool off my hot skin.  The gray clouds teased the possibility of rain but none came.  The cool wind that came later was a welcome change but before long it became too much and we were forced to tie our towels over our bodies to preserve heat.

Despite it all I felt more alive than I ever had before.  The island was a goal.  Something to strive for.  After the torturous weeks of helplessness I had something to pursue at last!

Closer...closer...closer.

The nearer we got the faster it felt like we were going.  The waves and wind, so long our enemy, now seeming to guide us straight for the cliffs.  Would we be dashed against the rocks?  Perhaps, but it wasn't like we had any other choice.  Thankfully the sea was relatively calm but the darkening clouds had me worried.  The spires of stone passed by us like great half collapsed buildings of a ruined city.  Without direct sunshine the waters were greenish black below us.

We were losing light fast.  In the gray gloam of evening I set my set my sights on a sliver of flat space at the base of a steep, but not vertical, section of the cliff and make for it.  Now within a stone's throw from  Ash reaches over the side and paddles with her hand as we make one last desperate lunge for shore.

Krrrrppppppp.

The loud sound of rough stone against the bottom of our dinghy signals the end of our journey.  Each of us were anxious to escape the boat that had been our life sustaining prison these past 16 days.  Ash throws a loop of the bow rope over a nearby boulder but in that moment neither of us really gave a damn if we saw the dinghy again.

My legs protest the sudden exertion as I jump from the boat.  My bare feet are greeted with sharp uneven footing.  Together we make our way to the smooth flat section.  Ash falls to her knees and lets out a hoarse cry of joy.  “We made it!  We made it!”

I cannot describe how good it felt to have firm earth beneath my feet once more.

Reaching down I help my wife to her feet.  “We have to keep going.  It's almost dark and we can't stay down here all night.”  There was only the faintest of light left.  Looking up the steep rock face, which was more shadow than light at this point, I add.  “We have to get up there before high tide.”

Ash takes a deep breath then nods.  She might not look it but my Ash was one strong woman.  I was so damned proud of her.

“Okay.  Let's go.”

As I take my first handhold...there is a deep grumble of thunder and it begins to rain.

Ash's Story

I couldn't believe it.  Nature was just mocking us now, one final insult.  The rain we had prayed for all those days chooses this most inconvenient moment to come.  The cool rain quickly caused the rocks to become slick.  The small parts where earth or bird shit had gathered became greasy.

We'd only made it about 20 feet up when I heard my husband curse.  “Shit!”  Followed by the sickening of sound of soft flesh and bone bouncing and scraping down unforgiving stone.  Looking back down I see his pale form against the dark rock of our landing spot.  The waves of the now rough waters lapped over him.  Another roll of thunder fills the sky.

“Ahhhh fuck!”  He groans as he stirs to life.

I quickly make my way back down.  I could see his arm was gashed open and he is clutching his right knee.  “Fuck...my leg...”  He grunts through gritted teeth.  “RRRMMM.”

I look left and right, unsure of what to do.  “We...we could get in the boat.”

“No!”  He shakes his head.  “No, I can make it.”

“Tony...”

“Help me up.  I can make it.”

I knew it was decision born of desperation but I could not blame him for not wanting to get back in that damned dinghy.  Besides, with another storm bearing in on us that tiny vessel may end up being a deathtrap in these rocky, choppy waters.  “Okay.”  I say.

I help my husband to his feet and could immediately tell that it wasn't just his knee that was messed up but his ankle too.  He lets out a low growl of pain and takes a moment to steady himself against it.  Within a minute we were making our way back up once more.

This time we stay close to each other, never out of arm's reach.  Each of us, once we had a firm spot to anchor ourselves, helped the other up and then vice versa.  Each foot of progress was a tiny victory.  Tony groaned with terrible pain every time his right leg was forced into action.  After 30 or so feet the climb became much easier.  The cliff's slope curved off to something much more manageable, but with nowhere to stop and rest we were forced to keep pressing on towards the top.

When we finally reached flat ground we had lost our light altogether.  The cloud cover meant there wasn't even moon or starlight.  It was pitch black outside of the odd distant flash of lightning.

I could feel soft grass beneath my feet and hear the rain the broad leaves of a forest canopy.  Finding the trunk of the nearest tree I lead my injured husband and help rest his back against it.  I feel him moving around and realize he was trying to bandage his cut arm with his towel.  I help him as best I can.

I needed water.  We both needed water.  Despite being bone weary I force myself to keep going. Holding my cupped hands out in front of me I catch as much of the cool steady rain as I could.  I sip the meager amount I was able to collect then lick my palms for the extra moisture.  Dom Perignon tasted like piss compared to this cool delicious life giving drink.  I do it again and pour the tablespoon or so I collect into my husband's dry lips.  I do this for as long as I could before my exhaustion claims me.

Sidling up next to Tony I rest my head on his shoulder and drape my beach towel over our torsos. The storm hits but it was nothing compared to the one we'd survived before.  The leaves and fronds above largely kept the rain off of us. Settling down against my husband's warm body I just have time to appreciate the fact that we'd made it.  We'd made it off the ocean alive.  I didn't know where we were but it was somewhere.  Somewhere real with trees and birds and good solid earth.  In the perfect dark, surrounded by sounds of storm and sea, the smell of earth and green foliage in my nose, and my husband at my side, I soon slip into a deep sleep with real hope rekindled in my soul.