Shipwrecked

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The cold rush of water pulling at his body opened his eyes. Stinging sand under his lids made him blink rapidly, rubbing at the tiny nuisances. Moonlight lit the night as far as he could see, revealing endless miles of sand. With the tide coming in, the waves washing over him grew stronger and he struggled to his feet, grimacing over the punishment that his body had taken. The first instinct was to check for the long knife that normally strapped to his belt.

He gained some comfort in the familiar feel of the hilt. Next, he felt in his pockets, looking for his compass, and was thankful when the cool metal touched his fingertips. ‘At least,' he thought, 'I’m not completely at the mercy of fate.’ With the means to see what direction the storm had blown him, and the long knife offering slim hope of defense, his thoughts next turned to those who had been with him. Not knowing if any of them had survived, desperate to know what had happened to the beautiful Constance, he almost called out.

His lungs were full to shout their names when strange sounds arose from the jungle behind him. Dropping to the sand, lying completely still, his ears took in every noise, eyes searching the tree line for the source of the disturbance. There was nothing to see in the inky blackness beyond the beach. Deciding it may be best to search for the missing crew come dawn, the castaway cautiously made his way from the water and up along the shore.

Going a distance of some two hundred yards, he again stood and listened for any sound from the blackness. Knowing he would have to find a shelter that offered some protection in this foreign land, the man slowly went to the edge of the trees pausing for just a moment then disappeared into the dark.

Cautious, he made slow progress through the tangle of vine and trees, looking for anything that would serve as shelter. There was an occasional rustle of some small body rushing away in the darkness on either side of him, but he figured it was the local animal life. Continuing on, he came upon a rocky escarpment that protruded from the land like a skewer. Carefully making his way around the base, a narrow crag opened up before him, just wide enough to squeeze through. Once inside, a cramped passage went uphill a few paces before widening into a small cavern.

Though it was completely black inside, he walked the perimeter of the cave, one hand on the wall, the other above his head in case the ceiling dropped. Satisfied the cavity was safe, he lay down facing the opening, his damp clothing irritating against his skin. Resting his head against his arm, he sought the familiar celestial lights. Only a faint glimmer from distant stars was visible through the narrow entrance. As he fell asleep, his last thoughts were of Constance.

The next morning, he woke to the shrill calls of the shorebirds as they danced on the wind. Looking around the morning light gray within the walls of the cave, he sighed tiredly. The shelter he’d chosen was indeed a small place, but the ceiling was high, and the sandy floor appeared clean. It rustled softly as he shifted, warm from his body heat.

Almost instantly his thoughts returned to those who had been on board with him. Wanting to see if any made it to shore, he left the cave quickly. The walk back down to the beach was quiet. Now lit by the sun, the sand was the color of ochre. It stretched out on either side as far as he could see and the endless waves that usually brought some sense of peace now seemed to mock him. There was no sign of anyone or anything. Trying to remember the events of the night before, he pulled out his compass.

Attempting to gauge the direction the storm had blown him and the most likely direction from which anyone might have come ashore he chose south. Covering several miles, careful eyes scanned the water and sand for any clue as to survivors. Each step pushed a nail of despair a little deeper into his heart. Forcing himself on despite hunger and exhaustion, he continued searching, driven by the need to know the fate of his crew, his beautiful Constance.

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