New Homeport Island (16 page)

wool I could start it.” They were desperate for fire they
 attempted every method and old wives tale to start a fire. The
‘ghost’ found his glasses in his pocket were he placed them
 while floating in the chain of ship wreck survivors, they were a
 little bent but serviceable so he tried to focus the sun light on dry
 grasses. One of the former crew members now a castaway egged
 him on, “You can do it, just put those things back on and stare at
 it real mean like!” The master chief just kept asking, “Has it
 started yet?” occasionally adding, “I can’t see a damn thing.”
There were some that had given up and were cooling themselves
 in the surf, sitting with their legs spread for the waves to wash
 over them, amongst them were Tammy Melad, Michelle Syre,
 and Jessica Haydel, when a wave crashed over their knees and a
 crossed their chest they would cry out, “Oh…Yes! That’s cold!”
The quest for fire became a Neanderthal endeavor; its
 futility was matched only by its absurdity. Gunner’s mate Smity
 had been a gunner’s mate guns petty officer second class for
 three years and a navy sailor for a total of eight years, he ran like
 a frantic five year old into the ocean yelling, “I can’t believe we
 can’t even start a camp fire!!” Hudlow saw this demonstration of
 fatigue and disbelief and said, “I can start a camp fire…” he
 strolled over to the ‘pentagon’ kneeled down with some dry
 leaves and grass and said, “Behold! Fire!” as everyone cheered
 and stepped back he produced a cigarette lighter from his
 pocket, a nice silver zippo refillable lighter and struck its thumb
 wheel…and struck it again, and again. Hauldbalm fumbled
 putting his glasses back on and said, “well we got that started…”
 after his glasses were on he noticed the zippo lighter and
 commented, “Fire huh?...that one would have more water in it
 than these plastic ones.” Hudlow looked up surprised at the
 handful of lighters the master chief was holding and said, “I

didn’t know you had lighters” Everyone there in that circle sat
 back in defeat and disillusionment as they watched Jim Hudlow
 try all the lighters again. Seeing him fail repeatedly took all their
 hope, and they wander off along the beach to huddle up with
 each other. The whole day had been spent trying to start a fire
 and now dusk was approaching and the winds picked up chilling
 everyone on the beach.
I had finished making clay bricks and realized a kiln would
 require too much time and fresh water was needed immediately,
I had no idea why I wasn’t already dying of thirst, so the bricks
 would be used for a firebox and a ceramic boiler was my goal. I
 had also finished the bottom half of the boiler it would probably
 hold three gallons. I searched my pockets for my cigarette
 lighter and tried to strike it, to no avail. I then held it to my ear
 to listen for any hissing butane from it and there was no sound.
The sun would be setting soon and I needed fire, when I held up
 the red plastic lighter and looked through it I noticed particles
 floating in the fluid, it had filled with sea water. I looked around
 and grabbed a couple of sticks and tried rubbing them together
 and I laughed saying to myself, “Well…no lighter, but I still
 have my shoe laces! haha.” I pulled out a shoe lace and tied the
 ends to the ends of a somewhat flexible stick and then searched
 for the driest wood I could find. I took the bow I had made and
 wrapped the string around a dry stick and placed the tip on a dry
 piece of wood and surrounded the tip with dry grass; holding the
 top of the stick with a rock and with the tip on the dry wood,
 surrounded by kindling, I used the bow to spin the stick,
 working up the heat with quick movements.  
It had been about an hour and had grown dim, embers
 started to form in the kindling. I hushed at it with whispering
 breathe without stopping. As a small flame started I threw more

kindling on the small flame. I scooped up the small fire with a
 piece of palm from the palm trees and my hands and placed it on
 the kindling in the trench. The fire grew just as the sun set then I
 settled near the fire putting my shoe lace back in. I was
 concerned about spiders and snakes and thought I should sleep
 somehow elevated up the ground…this area was not the sand of
 the beach, but a dirty mud pit I had been digging in all day.        
Small black birds were darting around the fire and some
 sort of moths were there too, I found that comforting until I
 realized those were bats. I heard rustling in the brush and
 thought I saw dark eyes peering at me for a moment. I thought
 of how I didn’t want to other survivors seeing my attempt to
 build an evaporative desalination system, and how embarrassed
I would be if it were just a fool’s folly. Many times I had seen
 smart guys on the navy ships lose their social creditability over
 an impulse or bad idea and the ridicule it solicited, I had
 managed to avoid that throughout my time at sea, and now as a
 castaway ‘shipwreck’ I was definitely going to avoid falling
 prey to that nightmare. I laid there starring at the moon, trying
 not to think of anything, focusing on the tasks at hand; fresh
 water, shelter, food. It’s do or die time.
At the landing they were huddled in the darkness moving to
 and from small groups huddled together like cat burglars.
Artimus and Mormus were closer to the surf so the crashing
 waves would drown out their voices. They could be seen in the
 moonlight and most of what they had to talk about was how
 beautiful the horizon looked as it seemed to mingle with the sky,
 the perfumed aroma of the island now seemed to have a sandal
 wood like accent to it, which was actually due to my fire on the
 other end of the island.

Artimus said, “This would make a good spot for a club
 med.” Mormus smiled and starred at the horizon, it had been in
 his training to keep spirits up…even his own, and over the years
 he learned that it was a simple matter of re-contextualizing the
 circumstances. He replied, “It may be yet, Dave.” Artimus
 yawned and said, “We need to maintain order until all this sinks
 in with the crew, a rescue might take a month.” Mormus laughed
 and replied, “A month at club med is what I need! But, I’d like
 to see some rain…might even dance in it or drink it right out of
 the sky.” Artimus laughed, and added, “The one thing I am sure
 of is fresh water will be here before the fleet. haha” The captains
 comment was taken with good cheer, for a simple reason;
 history, should it actually be written is dependent upon survivors
 to write it, there was no point in contemplating failure in a
 survival critical category, if you fail you die.  
Ebony Allick had been the last helmsmen to stand watch
 aboard the ship and she feared an interrogation, she hung back
 and away from the crew sleeping in the brush. The Pentagon had
 the chiefs and Junior officers sitting around speculating as to
 where in the world we had ended up and how long it would take
 to be found; after all the mission failure would require some
 other unit to attempt it. Just under a palm tree rested Francesco
Bellium and Monica Villa they were nestled together for a cold
 night. They whispered in each other’s ears promises and
 reassurances, they would stick together no matter what may
 come. Charlie Mcree slept with a rock in one hand and a stick in
 the other, she was prepared to lash out at anything that may
 come for her. Eric Milson and Philip Doary slept back to back to
 share their warmth. They entire crews list rested in these
 fashions spread across the beach, they stumbled about going to
 each other for comfort, some walked in their sleep and cuddled

up to another only to fall back to sleep and have that partner get
 up and walk to someone else.
I woke as my fire began to die and the heat it afforded
 began to dissipate, I tossed in more kindling and watched the
 flame spring back to life and tossed in more wood. There in the
 fire light I examined the bowl shaped bottom of the boiler and
 the bricks checking for cracks and tapping a rock on them to test
 for hardness, earlier when the fire was larger those clay pieces
 were engulfed in flame. The shock I had been through offset my
 sense of isolation, it felt better to be alone while I came to terms
 with the circumstances. I was far enough from the surf that its
 sound was not as deafening as it had been before and I no longer
 felt dizzy. I lacked the comfort of a blanket and looked at the
 piece of string I had made earlier and wondered just how long it
 would take to make a blanket. I checked the fire and decided to
 try to go back to sleep.
The next morning the fire was still burning and the
 winds were dying down, I checked the bowl and bricks, some of
 the bricks had chipped and crack but would still be useful the
 bowl that would be the bottom half of the boiler was intact, I
 formed it with great concern for the possibility of it cracking. It
 was still hot so I picked it up with sticks and used a sock I had
 drenched with water to cool it and check if the clay would just
 rub off, fortunately it didn’t. I formed the top half to have a
 spout with a neck; I didn’t think I could pull off using a coil; I
 just wasn’t experienced enough with the clay. Once it set it on
 the somewhat burnt lattice I had built I went to collect more
 wood, and tossed it into the fire, I didn’t have to go far the brush
 seemed to have been drying, winter had just ended in Everett,
 but we had gone south of the equator here summer was just
 ending.  

The rest of the survivors were laid out still recovering and
 exhausted from a night of hide and seek. The chief petty officers
 attempted to hold a formal quarters and daily muster; it was
 pointed out that reporting to your assigned space for work
 wasn’t going to happen because no one can hold their breath that
 long or swim that far. The arguments in sued.
Chief Brosuer said, “Hey…! Guys…I need to take muster,
 we need to know if we lost anyone.” EN3 Gruble and EN3 Mier
 rushed up and said, “Mier and Gruble reporting for duty, oh and
 fuck you for losing the ship.” and they walked off. Hauldbalm
 said, “We need to get things going…like a fire for example, so
 we can keep things going.” Williams yelled out, “I can’t fucking
 believe you guys! Take a head count we aren’t playing any more
 games.” Chief Dotz said, “Damn it, we’re still in charge!” FC1
Forester said, “The hell you are. I’m with them.” Atrisia Wells
 interjected, “You fucking retards stay in the pentagon we’ll take
 a head count and…” Hauldbalm interjected, “Who’s going to
 start the fire, who’s going to find food, who’s going to find
 water..? That’s what you …” Atrisia interjected, “…it sure as
 hell isn’t going to be any of you! So shut the fuck up!” The
 chiefs started looking around for the captain and found him still
 asleep near the surf with the X.O. Chief Casley nuddged him
 and said, “Captain…Captain, they won’t do what we tell them
 sir.” Artimus rolled over as he said, “Tell your mother; I’m
 sleeping.” he then realized his face was in sand and blurted out,
“Hold on…what did you say?”  
I started piling the bricks and spackling it with clay to form
 the firebox and set the bowl into the center, it fit nicely so I was
 able to spackle the gaps in the corners easily. I knew the burnt
 wood would serve well as charcoal and burn longer, hotter, and
 cleaner than the wood but to keep it dry I would have to wrap it

in paper. Fortunately in Seattle crafts like these had become a
 fad, soap making, clay working, and even paper making had
 been featured at Pike’s Place market, small kits were sold from a
 book store there. So, on to making paper, as I looked for suitable
 plant materials to mill down into pulp and screen dry with my
 tee-shirt I realized If I found a long enough hollow stick I could
 make bellows out of paper to fan the fire in the fire box.
After I had gathered my additional materials I took a step
 back and looked at what was so far my best hope for survival. It
 was over whelming beautiful to me, it looked exactly right and I
 thought to myself, “Did I really build that?” Then I touched my
 bottom lip with my index finger to check for Moisture, maybe
 dehydration was already getting to me. The boiler had a quality
 to it dark burnish red bowl with a groove on top to receive the
 other half, nice round sloping contour to the now red clay
 spackled fire box, it could have passed for a lawn ornament or
 fountain at a hardware store. I glanced over at the top half still
 burning on the lattice and thought, “I may not die after all.”
I walked back to the clearing toward the ridge to check on
 everyone else and what progress they had made, and I heard
 angry yelling. Once I reached the ridge I peered through the
 trees to the group on the beach. They were wrestling and
 shoving each other. The only words I was able to make out were
 yelled with a tone of disbelief and anger, “Captain’s mast…?
Where is his ship?!...Captain of what, there ship wreck!!??” I
 watched for a while trying to determine what groups had formed
 out of this and felt thirst kick in hard, it seems it was hotter on
 this side of the island the breeze was not on us at all. Realizing
 that for the first time I had heard the term ‘shipmate’ mocked as
‘ship wreck’ in a now completely accurate way, I stumbled back
 to my work.  

The arguing continued Tom Norrie paced back in forth at
 the shoreline examining the rougher sand, metallic looking shell
 fragments caught his eye. Hudlow stood watching him and
 commented, “I think he’s looking for his virginity.” Mr. Capes
 found a straight stick about an inch wide and a foot and a half
 long and started carrying it as though it were a Billie club.
Clarkson sat next to her roommate Spayner seeking comfort and
 an answer as to what to do without any feminine hygiene
 products to which Joanna Spayner replied, “Oh ya those and you
 know… food, water, eventually clothes, ya the little things.”
Clarkson asked, “Why can’t you just be good to me?” Spayner
 replied, “Why would you say that dear?” Clarkson deemed that
 to be mockery Joanna was not her mother and it seemed they
 traded of roles when these things came up.
Atrisia paced back and forth through the sand enraged to
 the point of tears, this was another example of a behavior
Artimus knew they should not be aware he had noticed, without
 a reaction from him it either becomes a personal understanding
 of familiarity between them or it is legitimized by his acceptance
 or silence. Artimus strolled down the shoreline to give them
 time to calm down and realized the pentagon didn’t afford
 privacy to either of them and he would need something more
 substantial than a lean-to on the beach. Artimus then grabbed a
 tee-shirt from the pile of ‘drinking cloth’s’ and got it wet it in
 ocean and sucked some water out of it.
It was still day light and the top half of the boiler casing
 was visibly inspectable unlike the bottom half that had been
‘cooked’ overnight. I told myself it didn’t have to be perfect,
 just hardened on the surfaces and free of cracks. I decided to
 pull it off the lattice, I was very careful with the bottom half and
 that was just a large bowl, this half had an elongated neck