Part 23

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Twenty-Three

I woke in daylight, squinting at the grey clouds that gave no indication of the time of day. The storm wasn't over yet.

My boat had taken on more water overnight, topped up by my tears at losing William, so I found the floating milk can and returned most of the seawater to the ocean. By the time I was done, my stomach demanded breakfast. I eyed off the milk cans in the locker before closing it firmly. I'd had enough human food for a while. With no humans in sight, I chose a more tempting meal.

I lowered my aching body over the side and into the numbing water. I dipped my face beneath the surface and started to sing, careful to keep one hand firmly on my boat. The fish that answered my call was precisely what I wanted – a small wahoo, young enough to be curious, but big enough to make a meal. One snap of his spine was all it took to end his life before I threw him into the boat. I hoisted myself in after him and proceeded to eat my fill of his dense flesh. The wahoo certainly beat a fresh tuna, not to mention a marmite sandwich. Humans ate some very strange things.

Feeling pleasantly full, I threw his bony carcass into the waves and reclined. For a long time, I watched the clouds until the day turned to dark night with no stars or moon in sight.

Once again, I curled up under the sail and sank into slumber.

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