by Clare Revell
He shut the door and went into his cabin.
Deefer almost knocked him over in his eagerness to get to his mistress.
Jim grabbed his collar just in time and shut the door. “You can’t see her just yet, boy. In a while, OK. Just let us get her comfortable.”
Deefer sat and looked at him.
“I know you wanted to help her earlier, but there was nothing you could have done.”
He stripped off his wet clothing and put on clean dry things.
Deefer whined, and it was as if he’d said. “Will she be OK?”
“I don’t know,” Jim answered. “She’s badly hurt. Let me get her settled and then you can see her.”
He picked up his wet clothes and left the cabin, shutting Deefer in.
Deefer barked twice in protest and then whined again.
Jim knocked on the girls’ door.
Staci opened it.
Jim propped Lou’s leg up and covered her, leaving her leg outside the duvet.
He then went up to the bridge, first putting his clothes to soak in the sink in the galley. He checked all the instruments, marked off their course, and increased speed. He looked out on to the deck at the red stain on the timbers.
Staci came up behind him. “Can I do anything?”
“I’ll clean up outside,” he said. “Can you watch here?”
“Sure.”
As Jim cleaned, the broom hit something buried under Lou’s shredded jeans--one of his fishing boxes. He picked it up and opened it. Fish. The fish he had caught that morning. The catch Lou had quite possibly given her life for. He glanced at his watch. It was only nine. He took the box up to the bridge. “It’s the fish,” he said woodenly. “I found it on the deck. I hadn’t realized she’d kept hold of it.”
Staci looked at it. “It’s my fault. If I didn’t like fish so much you wouldn’t have gone.”
“I took her out there as punishment for drawing all over the logbook. If anyone’s to blame it’s me.”
Staci put her arms round Jim and started to cry.
Jim dropped the box and returned Staci’s hug, tears pricking in his eyes. For a while, he just held Staci as waves of emotion swept over him.
Deefer barked again, and Jim pulled away. “I’d better go check on her.”
Lou’s face looked flushed.
Jim touched her head—she was very hot. He opened the porthole and went back up to the bridge.
Without turning Staci asked, “What do we do with the fish? I don’t want them now.”
“I’ll clean and freeze them. Can you watch the bridge for a bit longer?”
“No problem. How’s Lou?”
“Hot. Other than that, still out.”
Jim took the fish to the galley and quickly cleaned and gutted them, before putting them in the freezer. As he shut the freezer door, he became aware of sobbing coming from the bridge.
Staci was at the helm, tears streaming down her face.
“Are you OK, Stace?” he asked pointlessly, knowing she was far from fine.
“Not really. We can’t even call for help, can we? Lou’s dying, and we can’t do anything to stop it.”
“We can pray.”
Staci pulled a face. “What good will that do?”
“God answers all prayer, kiddo.”
“Not always. Mum and Dad are still missing.”
“The answer isn’t always yes. Sometimes it’s ‘not yet’ or ‘no,’ but He always hears and answers.”
Staci looked at him. “Why? Why is the answer no or not yet?”
“For the same reason Mum and Dad never gave you everything you wanted. You’d be a spoilt brat. You’d take it all for granted and never value anything. Some things just aren’t good for you.”
“I don’t want to argue with you, Jim, but it’s hard to accept at times that the things I want so badly aren’t what God wants for me. We’ve come so far, things were going so well and then this happens.”
He nodded. He was just as sad, just as angry, but wasn’t going to say as much.
“What about sailing? You can’t do it alone.”
“There’s a two-person rota here. Lou worked it out when you were ill.” Jim pulled it off the board and showed her.
Staci looked at it. “I remember now,” she said.
“But I don’t want you doing any of the night shift.”
“I’m not arguing.”
“One of us needs to be with Lou if we’re not up here, so I’ll change it slightly,”
“I’ll check on Lou, then I’ll do lunch.”
They changed places at the helm and after checking the instruments, Jim opened the logbook. His last entry was timed at 0400. Now at 1230, a few short hours later, everything had changed. He looked at the shark that Lou had drawn at the top of the page. It had a strange significance to it now. He’d been annoyed when he had first seen it, but now? He gathered his thoughts and began to write.
Captain’s log supplemental. Point 12 and a half
I took her fishing and I think I’ve killed her…she was talking and joking yet hating every minute of being out there. Her hand was trailing in the water and then there was a shark.
It hit the boat, punctured the dinghy and we were in the water. She tried to save the fish and the shark caught her, dragging her under the water. Somehow, I’m not honestly sure how, I got her away and onto the boat.
She’s badly hurt. Her leg is a mess. I’m not a doctor. I don’t know what to do. I pieced it back together, but…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. If I could only have this morning over, I’d do it differently.
Having completed the most difficult entry of the journey so far, he played around with the sailing rota until he came up with one he was happy with.
0800–1300 Staci
1300–1700 Jim
1700–2200 Staci
2200–0800 Jim
Staci came up. “Jim? Lou’s awfully hot. I’ve uncovered her.”
“Good idea.”
“Lunch is ready. Where do you want it?”
“Here if you like.”
Over lunch, he showed her the rota. “If I catnap at night, say between two and three, I could sleep when you have the watch.”
“That’s fine. So I take over at five then?”
“Yeah.”
“OK. I’ll clear up and go and sit with Lou for a bit.”
Left to himself Jim let his mind wander, so it was a good thing the autopilot was on. He went over and over the events of that morning, wondering why it had happened and how he could have averted it. He felt awful, convinced it was his fault. He turned his thoughts heavenward and put Lou and their whole situation into God’s hands.
After a while, he ran down both sets of stairs to the cabins.
Staci was asleep on her bed.
Jim crept quietly up to Lou’s bed.
Deefer gave a warning growl.
“I’m not hurting her boy. I just need to check her over.” He shone the torch into her eyes and noted that they both reacted. He still didn’t understand why it was so important, but Lou reckoned it was.
She was still hot and her skin flushed from fever.
Quickly he returned to the bridge and checked the controls. He looked at the map and checked off their position. Doing a few calculations he realized that turning round would make no difference. If they turned back it would take them three weeks to reach help whichever way they went, so they may as well carry on to the Philippines. Maybe they would come across another ship and could use their radio or medical facilities. He changed course slightly and increased speed.
~*~
Just after five, Staci joined him holding two plates of food.
“Hi,” she said.
Jim turned. “Hi. Smells nice.”
”I’m not hungry though.”
He moved over to her and took one of the plates. “You have to eat, kiddo. We both do. If we get sick, then we’re in big trouble.”
“I know. Are we turning back?”
“There is no point. We are three weeks away from land whichever way we go.”
“But the Philippines is six weeks away Jim. Lou doesn’t have six weeks.”
Jim put his plate down. “Staci, I don’t think she has three weeks either. Without medical help soon, she’ll probably die.”
“All the more reason to turn back.”
“I hope that we’ll start seeing other ships. Maybe we can flag one down to help us.”
“But…” Staci whined.
He pointed to her plate, not having the strength for one of her hissy fits. “Eat. That’s an order. I’m going to try to sleep. Course is laid in and autopilot is on. I’ll be back at ten.”
When Jim returned he pulled the logbook across the table—Staci had made an entry. She seemed to blame herself almost as much as he blamed himself. He’d checked on Lou just before he came on duty. She was unconscious, which was probably a blessing in disguise. She had a high temperature, which indicated a fever, which was probably due to infection.
He’d have to change the dressings on her leg tomorrow. The bandages and sheets could be washed and re-used. Maybe the gauze could be too. If the wound did get infected her faint chance of survival plummeted to almost non-existent.
He turned his attention back to the helm and took Avon on manual for a while to force his mind to focus on other things. It didn’t work and after an hour, he put the autopilot back on. He crept down to check on Lou.
She seemed hotter than before and her cheeks were even more flushed.
Staci had found a thermometer and put it on the bedside table.
Jim slid it gently under Lou’s arm. When it beeped, he read it, a hundred and one. He opened the window and put an extra duvet over Staci. Then he went back to the galley to make more coffee.
When morning came at last. Jim handed over gratefully to Staci. He refused breakfast, insisting he’d eat later. He checked Lou and laid on Staci’s bed, where he fell asleep almost immediately.
When he woke several hours later, he found Staci standing over him anxiously. “What is it?” he asked.
“It’s Lou.”
Jim sat up reluctantly and looked across at Lou. Her leg was oozing blood again. Any vestige of tiredness vanished. “Have we got any more bandages?”
“No. Shall I rip more sheets up?”
“Please. See if you can distract the dog.”
Staci tried, but Deefer wasn’t having any of it.
Jim looked at the stubborn canine. “Well, if you are staying there, you have to behave. I need to do this to make her better.”
Deefer put his head on Lou’s chest as if he understood.
Jim gently untied the splint, which wasn’t much good anyway, as the pieces were too big. He made a mental note to do something about them later. As he untied the bandages he noticed the smell. It got worse the more he removed.
Staci came in and wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?” she asked.
“Lou’s leg is infected,” Jim told her. “That’s why she’s so hot.”
“That’s not good, is it?”
“No.”
Staci grabbed the pile of soiled dressings and took them up to wash. She returned with a bowl of water and some clean cloths. “I’ll wash the others,” she said. “Can you manage here?”
Jim nodded, afraid that if he opened his mouth he’d be sick. The wounded leg resembled a half-cooked pizza. He had to do this, but he hadn’t done too good a job so far. Gently, he cleaned the leg as much as he could and then just laid a dressing on top, to let as much air get to it as possible. Then he went to the bridge so Staci could sleep.
14
The days passed. September became October.
While she hadn’t worsened Lou wasn’t any better. She drifted in and out of consciousness, clinging to life by a thread. Occasionally, she’d open her eyes, delirious with fever. She never knew where she was or who Jim or Staci were. The infection in her leg remained despite Jim’s best efforts to treat it. Without antibiotics though, it was a losing battle.
Jim, still blaming himself, tried to stay awake around the clock. Although he knew that Staci was more than capable of standing watch when the autopilot was on, she was only thirteen, a fact he constantly had to remind himself.
She had grown up so much since they’d left England, but she shouldn’t have this kind of responsibility.
When he wasn’t sailing or worrying about Staci, he was caring for Lou. He was amazed she was still alive. Every morning when he came off shift, he expected the worst.
Staci cooked, cleaned, stood watch and tried to get Jim to sleep occasionally. Any time she had spare, she also spent with Lou.
Deefer remained by his mistress’s side, leaving only to eat and stretch his legs.
On October fifth, Deefer began to bark and howl.
Jim hurtled from the bridge. He flew into the cabin, panic in his eyes and his heart in his mouth. He immediately feared the worst and didn’t want Staci to be alone.
Staci was sat next to Lou, tears streaming down her face. She looked at Jim as he came in. “Jim she’s cold. I can’t find a pulse.”
Jim took her word for it and sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms. “It’s my fault.” Staci sobbed. “We should never have come.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jim told her.
Deefer stopped barking, yawned, and padded out of the room.
“What do we do now?” Staci asked.
“I don’t know. We are fifteen days, at best, from port. Just wait until we get there, I suppose. Then we let the authorities know. They’ll fly her body back home.”
“I’m going to miss her. She was more like a sister than a friend. Jim, what have we done?”
From behind them, a voice said weakly, “The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”
“Lou,” Jim said.
“You’re alive,” Staci said.
“Just about, I think. I’m thirsty.”
“I’ll get you a drink. Tea?”
“Please.”
Staci dashed off leaving Jim and Lou alone. He smiled at her. “How do you feel?”
“It hurts,” Lou said. “How long? What’s the date?”
“October fifth. You’ve been unconscious since lunchtime on September thirtieth.”
“Four and a half days?”
“Four and a half very long days. I need to change the dressings. May I?”
“Carry on.”
Jim knelt beside the bunk and gently removed the lint. As usual it had stuck. Lou winced. “Ow.”
“Sorry. I’ll be back in a tick.”
Lou nodded.
Jim left the room and came back a minute later with a bowl of warm water and clean dressings. “I’ll be as gentle as I can,” he told her. “It will hurt though.”
Lou turned her head away.
Jim wet the dressing and slowly removed it. Still red and raw, the green and yellow pus that had covered it for the first couple of days had almost gone.
Lou winced as Jim cleaned the wounds. A tear trickled down her face and she wiped it away.
“Sorry, mate,” Jim said.
“It’s OK,” Lou gasped. “At least the pain tells me I’m still here.”
Staci came in with the tea. She put the tray down. “Tea and toast,” she said.
Jim put the final dressing on and looked at her. “Do you want to sit up for a bit, Lou?”
“Just for a bit, perhaps.”
Staci fetched the pillows from the spare bunk and she and Jim arranged them behind her.
Lou went pale and closed her eyes.
“Lou? You OK?”
“Dizzy.”
“That’s because you’re sitting up. You also haven’t eaten for days. We kept giving you drinks though.” Jim handed her the tea. “Here, drink this.”
“Strong and sweet— just the way you like it,” Staci said.
Lou sipped the tea. “Bliss, thank you. So what did I miss?”<
br />
“Nothing much. Just long bridge shifts and looking after you. Haven’t done much else.”
“Sorry I caused so much trouble.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I suppose you two have both blamed yourselves. Staci reckons it’s her fault because she loves fish. Jim reckons it’s his fault because he ordered me to go fishing with him when he knows I hate it. And Deefer reckons it was his fault because he didn’t jump in and save me. Well you’re all wrong. If I didn’t want to be here, I would have stayed at home. If anyone is to blame, it’s me for trying to save the catch. So you can stop this self-pitying now.” She leaned back into the pillows, her face creased with pain.
Staci gave her two painkillers. “These might help.”
“Thanks,” Lou said, swallowing them with the last of the tea. “I might sleep for a bit. How about you guys get some rest too?”
“Well I slept last night, so it’s my watch,” Staci said.
Jim removed the extra pillows so Lou was lying down again.
She was asleep almost at once.
Jim sat on the other bed. “See you in a bit,” he said, lying down.
Deefer padded back into the room, climbed back onto Lou’s bed, and settled down next to her.
~*~
Three weeks later, Lou was finally well enough to venture out of bed. As each day passed, she gained strength and the pain lessened, although it never went away completely.
Jim had fashioned a pair of crutches for her. He had also remade the splint into two pieces so it wasn’t so heavy or cumbersome.
Staci helped Lou dress.
Then Jim came in and strapped the splints on for her. The first piece went around her thigh and the second below her knee. Lou grabbed hold of one of the crutches and Jim’s arm and tried to stand. Intense pain shot through her, and she cried out. “I can’t do this.”
“Hey. That was the first attempt. You’ve spent the best part of four weeks in bed. It will take a while. Ready to try again?”
“No. If at first you don’t succeed—give up.”
“Come on. You can’t stay down here for the rest of your life.”
“Watch me.”
“No way. Come on, get up.”
