And that's what was really strange. The storm didn't just disappear and everything was better.. There was no wind. Absolutely no breeze. The water was smooth and flat as ice. The boat refused to move. The men puzzled over what to do. They decided to wait it out. It couldn't last too long.
Days later, and mother nature still hadn't produced even a single breeze. They were still sitting there. They had no water, no food. They laid around, baking in the hot sun. Starving. Bellies growling, mouths parched and cracked and dry. They needed help, and they needed help soon...or else something bad was going to happen. Coet thought only of Daisy. He had to get home to her. He was so quiet, and not a very expressive person when it came to matters of the heart... He needed to tell her that he loved her. He couldn't die without telling her... He couldn't.
A week later. Some of the weaker, men, mostly young boys and old men, were dead. The others were delerious, hallucinating. The captain of the ship kept talking to his wife- who had died three years earlier. Coet spent his time under the deck- where it was cooler. He prayed. He wanted to be home. And once he was homne, he decided he would never leave again. If he could only be with his Daisy one more time...
A light breeze. Coet raised his head slowly. The muscles in his neck creaked. His tongue worked in his mouth, but he couldnt speak. The ship was moving. And there was land ahead.
He needed desperately to tell someone. The others were all either blacked out or staring emptily into space. Maybe he didn't need to tell them...
A storn came. It rained, it poured. It was even more terrible than the first. Coet tilted his head back and rejoiced as the raindrops splattered on his swollen, dry tongue. The other men were dazed. They wandered around the boat, confused...tripping over the dead strewn bodies.
There was lightning and thunder. The wind howled. It caught in the large middle mast...and the wood snapped in two. It fell almost in slow motion, and Coet watched in horror as it hit the deck. The boat was rocking, rocking, rocking...Men were screaming. Grown men were screaming, crying, praying, cursing. Coet cowered, pressing himself as close to the deck as possible. The wind was really picking up. He saw men stumbling, struggling against it. One man went overboard. Others followed. Coet clung to the boards with all his strength.
Oh please let it end..Please let me get back to Daisy.
The sotrm was over. The boat, in pieces. It was slowly, slowly sinking. Coet searched through the loose boards and debris, searching for someone...anyone...still alive. There were none. He found a boat. A small, wooden lifeboat. He looked out. The land was not too far away...
He rowed and rowed. Rowed some more. The sun beat down. He felt his skin beginning to burn. He rowed on.
"Land ho," he said to himself quietly. He pulled the boat onto the sand after him. It was a small island. Very small. There were trees for shelter, growing large ripe fruits. He ran to a tree, and pulling the fruit down bit into it greedily. Sweet, juicy, soft on his tongue. The juice exploded in his mouth, and he ate the meat quickly. It was paradise, that fruit.
He explored the island. Found a suitable stick and immediately began carving a spear. His years of being a sailor/fisherman had taught him a few survival skills. He could make fire. He could catch fish with a spear. He could create smoke signals. He knew what to eat, and what not to eat. He would be okay, at least for a little while. But he needed to figure out how to get off of the island, if he ever wanted to see his Daisy again.
It was a month later. He had visibly lost weight, and built muscle. His diet consisted entirely of fruits and fish, and the occasional ground-bird..when he could catch one. He kept a large fire going at all times. He tried to save the boat, just in case. But he knew he would never be able to row himself back to his home on the Isle. He was relying on another fishing boat. He knew that it was a suitable time of year for fishing, so he expected at least one boat to go by.. But so far, none had.
It was night. He was writing on a large stone with a piece of burnt wood- 'Coet was here, the sole survivor of a severe storm. Tell Daisy on the Isle that I Love Her. She is the only reason I survived as long as I did.'
He was laying on the beach when he heard it over the crashing of waves. A bell. The emergency bell of a fishing ship. He bounded to his feet. And there it was. The fishing boat from his prayers. He screamed, he yelled. He found power that he didn't know he had. He ran, screaming, jumping, hooting. And it wasn't his imagination- the ship really was coming toward the island.
The cleaned him up on board, gave him new clothes. They listened to his story, fed him a large meal (of fish- go figure) and sent him to sleep in a real bed. He cried himself to sleep that night, thankful to be alive. They promised to take him back to Daisy as soon as they docked in a few days.
He walked into the house. Heard the sound of voices. Smelled fresh cooked meat. His belly growled again. He couldn't seem to get enough to eat. He walked slowly, quietly towards the bedroom. And there she was. There was his Daisy. She'd lost weight. Had red eyes, and a tear-streaked face. But there she was..and she was gorgeous. She was eating a sandwich...her eyes met his, and she gasped. Dropped her sandwich. Stood slowly, as if in a dream. She walked to him. She touched his face, his hair. He smiled, relieved, finally happy. He pulled her tight, and buried his face in her hair as she sobbed against his chest.