The small lifeboat sat still in the water. All around, miles of ocean and sky were all that could be seen. Not a seagull or even a fish was to be found. In the boat was an assortment of objects. Ten or so cans of food (mostly carrots), three gallon jugs of water, a coil of rope, a kitchen knife, two life vests, a (thankfully waterproof) box of matches, and one man, who lay motionless on the floor of the boat. He wasn’t dead, just thinking. The man was no fool. In fact, he was rather clever. What was important right now was conserving energy food, and water. Paddling towards nothing was useless. He lay still, trying to remember the details of what had happened, but only bits and pieces were coming back.
When the storm had hit the oiler, chaos erupted. Every man was fending for himself, desperately fighting to get on a lifeboat. As a structural engineer aboard the boat, the man knew where a lifeboat was which not many others knew about. The boat was small, only meant to hold one man, so he decided to grab what supplies he could and make a dash for it. As he was looking for more cans of food, the situation worsened. It was clear that the boat was going to sink. With his meager supply of food and water, he ran to the lifeboat. He lowered it off the ship, and at once almost wished he had died on board. The swells surrounding him were huge and terrifying. He tried to paddle and lost one of the two oars to the furious current within seconds. Realizing he was at the mercy of the ocean, the man pulled up the other oar and huddled over his supplies at the bottom of the boat. The next few hours were the most terrifying time of his life. The boat somehow managed to stay afloat, rising and falling with the angry swells. Whether out of fear or pure exhaustion, the man lost consciousness a few hours in.
When he finally came to, the sun was bright overhead. He sat up and looked around. Not a single sign of life or wreckage could be seen. All around was blue sky and blue ocean. About half of the supplies he had scrambled to get on board still remained. He was at once overcome with a burning thirst, but he forced himself to take just one small gulp. There was no telling how long he would be on the boat. He opened a can of carrots with the knife and ate two spoonfuls. He lied back down to think, and here he was now. He could not remember anything else since before seeing those first black clouds on the horizon of the water. He felt strangely calm, almost surprised with himself that he was not panicking. All he knew was that he needed to make a plan. There needed to be some structure or routine, or he would have no hope of surviving. After lying for another few hours (or so he thought, he had no way to keep time besides the sun), he sat up again. He took his shirt off and wrapped it around his head to protect his face. Taking the oar in his hands he started to row. He chose to row east using the sun. He knew that the boat was in the Southern Pacific at the time of the storm. Rowing east was his best hope of finding land. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was something.
Roughly three days had now passed. He had rationed the food and water, but his supplies were dwindling. He was continuing his path roughly east during the day. At night he tried to sleep as best he could on the floor of the boat. He allowed himself two mouthfuls of carrots and a gulp of water before he started rowing. At midday, when the sun was high in the sky, he had another mouthful of carrots and another drink of water. When the sun set, he had one more last drink of water before forcing his eyes shut. His skin was burnt and peeling on his torso and arms. He was starving and dehydrated, it took all of his willpower not to chug the remaining water. He knew he would die soon if he did not find land. The thought didn’t scare him as much as he thought it might.
At the end of the third day, he allowed himself two swallows of water and two mouthfuls of green beans, the last of the can. He lay down once again on the floor of the boat. He stared up at the night sky, realizing how beautiful the stars were for the first time. He decided that dying this way wouldn’t be the worst way to go. He resolved that if he couldn’t find land within two days, then he would feast on the rest of the food and wait to die.
The sun rose on the fourth day. When the man sat up, he at first only saw the usual endless blue. But as he turned his head left, the blue was interrupted by a green strip on the horizon. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Land! Laughter escaped his lips, as he stood up. He laughed long and hard, tears rolling down his cheeks. He felt a new energy course through him. If he could reach the land, he could find food, build a signal fire, find shelter… he had to get there. He would need strength. He opened a can of tuna, which he had been saving, and ate the whole things. He drank a quart of water, picked up his oar, and began to row. The land was further than he thought. In his excitement, he did not realize how far the distant strip was. He rowed long hard for much of the day and half the night. He then rested, but did not sleep. By the moonlight he could still make out the island, and he did not want to lose sight of it.
When the sun rose, he drank some water, ate half a can of carrots and started rowing again. He knew that he was close now. Just another half a day and he would be on the shore. He rowed steadily until noon. The island was only a few miles away. He could see now that it was about twenty or so miles across. He could make out only dense greenery besides that. When he finally reached the island it was almost nightfall again. He pulled the boat onto the beach and fell to his knees, crying and laughing and pounding his chest like a demented animal. When he came back to his senses, he pulled the boat as far as he could onto the beach. The man then slumped down next to the boat and exhaustion overcame him. He slept peacefully for the first time in days. When he woke the next day, the sun was already lowering in the sky. He sat up and looked at his supplies again, forming a new plan in his head. Finding freshwater and some food were the top priorities now. If that could be done, he would then try to construct some shelter, and try to build a fire. He set about walking down the shore, looking for and inlet or stream. To his great surprise and delight, he found a stream of freshwater only about three miles from his landing sight. The water was in a brackish pool, which lead to the ocean on one side. On the other side fresh water flowed down from the tree line. He ran to the tree line, falling to his stomach and gulping the water as fast as he could. After he drank his fill and then some, he decided to haul his supplies to the stream to make camp.
It took about two hours to go back and pull the boat and supplies to the steam. After he did he rested, eating the last can of carrots. Food was now on his mind. He knew he would have to enter the forest to find food, but the thought worried him. He had a good sense of direction, but there was no telling what could happen in the dense wood. He only had about an hour of daylight left, so he decided to wait until morning to worry about food.
When morning came, the man made a decision. Taking the coil of rope about his shoulders, and gripping his knife, he entered the forest. Every ten feet or so he stopped to make a gouge in a tree so he could find his way back. The forest teemed with life around him. Birds chirped, bugs buzzed, and he even saw a small goat fleet by. He felt reassured by so much life. The island was sure to have a steady food source of some sort, and he could also learn how to hunt. He soon found his prediction to be correct. There were groves of pineapple trees, bushes with a mysterious berry on them, which he left alone until he saw birds eating them, as well as the occasional coconut tree. He used his rope to grapple up the trees, taking as many pineapples and coconuts as he could. He ate his fill, and then made his way back to the camp carrying as much as his arms could hold. He cracked the coconuts against a boulder, drinking the sweet milk, and eating slices of pineapple. The man felt content for a while. He had food, water, and there was plenty of things to build shelter with on the island. He made a rough little hut of sticks and large ferns that he found growing on the edge of the water.
The fire was easy enough to light. He found dry wood and twigs littered on the forest floor, and his matches had stayed dry. Once the fire was lit, he kept it alive, never letting the embers day. Much of the time was now spent on getting more food, and fuel for the fire. He found that he enjoyed the simple monotony of it. The island was truly beautiful, and rich in many resources.. The place felt like a haven, and the man felt a freeing happiness on the island. He carved a sharp point on a long stick with the knife, and tried his hand at spear-fishing. He got the hang of it after a few difficult days, and soon was feasting on small silver fish every night. He cut a length off the rope and wrapped strong leaves into a pouch on the bottom of the rope to make a sling. Using small rocks that were abundant on the beach, the man practiced slinging rocks at various targets. After days of practice, he finally felt adept enough to try his skill on a bird. After running about the woods for a few hours, the man came out with a large feathered bird. It was perhaps the best meal he had ever eaten. He worked on building up his hut into a more livable space, waterproofing the roof with endless layers of leaves. There was even a door, and a removable smoke flap so fires could be lit inside the hut.
After a peaceful fortnight, the man’s thoughts turned to what he could do to find his way back to the world. He had the matches, a signal fire made sense. But who was he signaling to? He had seen no ships, and he had no idea how big the search grid was for the boat wreck, or if there even was a search at all. He had not even thought about if anyone else might have survived. So much focus had been put on simply surviving; he’d scarcely had room for a stray thought. Now, with food and water, and shelter he had time to think. Leaning against a rock a little ways from his shelter, the man thought. Not just about surviving, or being rescued, but about his entire life. Never before had the man had so much time to sit and think about things. He thought back to his life before the storm, about who he was. A divorced engineer, who spent half his life aboard boats making sure they ran properly, a career he had never particularly enjoyed. His children didn’t speak to him, he had no friends, only a few work acquaintances. With his time spent off boats, he only had a small, dingy apartment, and a six-pack to himself to look forward to. What life exactly was he trying to get back to? Long days spent working for s*** pay, half of it going to his ex-wife and endless taxes…A drop of water hit the man’s nose, interrupting his thoughts. A light rain was beginning to fall. The man got up to walk back to his shelter, but some sudden urge made him sit back against the rock again. He let the rain fall around him, his thoughts leading him to a dreamless sleep. The rain fell throughout the night.
When the man woke, the sky was clear again, the sun shining brightly, bringing a new day. Stretching and yawning, the man climbed up the rock to look around. He scanned the horizon, and felt his heart skip a beat. In the distance a small black dot was moving on the horizon. It was a ship, definitely close enough be able to see a smoking fire. He was going to be rescued! The man ran back towards the hut. He grabbed the matches, and the wood that had stayed dry in his hut. He also grabbed more of the large green ferns to place on the fire so it would smoke. He built up a stack of kindling and wood as big as he could. With trembling fingers, he lit a match. He moved the flame toward the wood, but stopped about six inches from the pile. He stared at the match in his hand. His thoughts from the night before came rushing back. Was this what he wanted? To be rescued, and go back to his old life of stress and unhappiness?
For what seemed like an eternity, he stared at the flaming match. It puttered out. He dropped it in the sand. He looked again at the ship in the distance. Within an hour or two, it would be completely out of sight. Turning his back, he walked towards the forest to find some breakfast.