For the first few days I drift out to sea with nothing more than berries and a canteen of water to tide me over. Salt water will kill you – I think my father told me that as he sang me to sleep. He had deep blue eyes, and a soft singing voice. Not good for a pirate, but amazing memories for me.
I cannot sleep as the see buffets my little boat. I only have enough water for one more day. Berries have all but depleted. Was I right to leave the safety of my home? I stare back at he overwhelming ocean as it surrounds me like a moth eaten coat.
I’m not sure I will survive till the morning – the nights are colder than I had expected. My skin is drying out in the heat of the day. It is not so much the thirst, but the hunger is clawing at my insides eating me from the inside out.
I hone my memories from when I was a child. Catching fish, mother used to say, was a matter of patience. Laying my head over the side of the boat I focussed on the waves, trying to find a creature brave enough to swim near my boat. Reaching forward my long arms trail in the cool water. Within minutes a fish swims into my outstretched hands.
I grab its tail and haul it on to the boat. Flapping around the bottom of the boat like a jumping jack, I should finish the job. A kind gesture from me. If I didn’t eat this I would surely starve – there were no ships and even if they were pirates weren’t the friendliest of creatures.
I could not stand to see it suffer like I had at the cottage. Gently, I scooped the fish into my palm, made a prayer, before letting it back in the water. ‘Sorry . . .’ The wooden boat was to become my coffin, but I couldn’t let it be his.