Castaway

Where am I? I opened my eyes and looked around. I was in a featherbed in a small room. It was not what I expected.

The window was open and a warm breeze floated in. The curtains moved gently, making shadows dance across the room. I was still near the ocean - I could hear the surf.

But I wasn't in my boat.

I had to be dreaming. I closed my eyes and tried again. When I opened them again, I was still in bed.

Then it came back to me. I closed my eyes and the nightmare replayed itself. It was near midnight, and I was in a raging storm. Huge waves battered my boat. Off to my left was the Barracoon Reef Light, flashing through the driving rain. I struggled to stay as far from it as I could, for the reefs around the island were notoriously treacherous. But it wasn't happening. The combination of wind and waves pushed me closer and closer. There was little I could do. I saw the water foam where the jagged coral lay just below the surface. Then my sails blew out. As I struggled to lower them, the mast went over the side. Helpless, the wounded boat drifted towards the shore. I waited for the inevitable thump and crash as the boat hit the reef, but there was none. Fate had smiled on me. I put out an anchor. The last thing I remembered was a huge wave that engulfed the boat.

How I made it ashore, I don't know. How I ended up in this room was an even bigger mystery. I was too tired to care and fell asleep again.

I awoke when I heard door open. A tall woman, with brown hair, carried a tray in. Another woman, a little slip of a thing with short, black hair followed her in.

I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, I was interrupted by the short one, who said, "Don't waste your breath. Muriel's made you some breakfast."

Muriel said, "Take it easy, you've been through a lot." She smiled at me kindly. She put her hand on my shoulder. That felt good.

She put the tray down on the table next to the bed. As they left the tall one closed the door behind them.

I hadn't eaten in several days and the smell of the food made me ravenous. I wolfed it down and drank the cup of coffee of so fast I nearly scalded my mouth.

Then I pulled up the covers and went back to sleep.

It was dark when I heard the door open again. The tall one is back. Her name is Muriel, I think. She's carrying another tray of food and an oil lamp.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

"Better, thank you. I want to..."

"Quiet now, you need to rest some more," replies Muriel with a smile. Her hand brushes the hair out of my eyes. My body tingles from the contact.

She sits in the chair as I eat.

"What's your name?" asked Muriel.

"Michael. Michael Novak," I reply between bites.

"That's a pretty name. I'm Muriel and my boss is Anita."

As if on cue, Anita appeared, saying to Muriel, "Leave him alone. Can't you see he's still weak?"

I put down my fork. I roll my shoulders, and there isn't any pain. "I feel a lot better now, really, and I enjoy her company," I said.

Anita holds up her hand. "You rest now. Come, Muriel. You've got work to do."

The next morning, I wake up to find my clothes have been washed and dried. Someone has folded them neatly and hung them over the back of the chair. There's a pair of flip-flops on the seat. They're big enough for me, so they couldn't have belonged to either of them. Who had been their owner?

I stretched and sat up. My strength was back.

I put on my clothes and crept quietly down the stairs. Through the screen door, I could see it was another beautiful tropical morning. I opened the screen door and stepped out onto the porch.

The island I was on wasn't very large, barely big enough for the lighthouse and the keeper's house. In the distance I saw the dull blue gray shape of the mainland, St. Albans Island.

Anita was working on an engine by the lighthouse. The breeze ruffled her beautiful black hair. She's cute, I thought.

Then it struck me. There wasn't anyone else around besides the two women. They were the lighthouse keepers!

"There you are," says Muriel. She's standing behind me and I jump out of surprise. "Anita really doesn't want you out here. Come inside. Do you want some breakfast?"

"Yes, thanks," I reply. I take one last look at Anita's slender figure, hunched over the engine and then turn to follow Muriel back inside.

The kitchen is clean and well ordered, but very old fashioned. The stove burns coal. Muriel is making some bacon and eggs. A pot of coffee steamed and filled the air with its fragrance. Even with the windows open, the kitchen is hot.

I sat down and watched her cook. She has a stew cooking on the stove.

"You must be the cook," I said.

She laughed and replied, "I do a little of everything, but I like cooking best."

I watched her putter around, doing dishes, sweeping the floor. She smiles at me as he does it.

I summon up the courage to say, "Muriel, I need to get to my boat."

"It's sunk, isn't it?" she replies.

"I can see it from the window of my room. It's about a hundred yards offshore."

"I'll have to ask Anita," she said.

"OK, thank you," I replied. The way Anita acted towards me made my heart sink. I was sure she would say no. There was nothing to do but go back to my room and look out on the water.

At lunchtime Anita brings up the food.

"You need to stay in this room. I don't want you wandering around here."

"I need to get to my boat, please," I said to her. "See, it's right off the beach." I point to it.

She looks out the window and asked, "Why?"

"I have some valuables I want to recover. All my papers are in the boat. Plus, I've got lots of food."

"It will be ruined by the water."

"No it won't," I replied. "It's all sealed up and most of it is canned. I just need the use of your dinghy. Please." I'm pleading now.

"Let me think about it."

She leaves. I eat my lunch and then stare out the window at the ghostly shape of the boat. The waves wash over it and I can see the remains of the sails flapping underwater.

An hour later, Anita returns. "Muriel will take you out there. I don't want you to do it on your own."

Muriel rowed me out to my boat in their little dinghy and anchored. I dove in and swam down to the boat, where I and found my flippers and mask, still tucked away where I left them. Then I started grueling task of recovering as many things as I could. The most important was my strong box, which had all my papers in it, including my money.

Then I brought up the food. There was a lot of food, enough for several months, still on board. Most of it was canned or freeze-dried. Everything was kept in heavy waterproof pouches, which weren't bad in the boat, but underwater, they were almost unmanageable. It took me a couple hours to bring it up. We rowed back to the dock.

When we tied up the boat, Anita came down to see what I found. I told her, "It's all yours. The food, I mean." I smiled.

"It's probably bad," she replied. She turned around and went back to work.

Muriel was delighted. "Look at all this food," she beamed as we opened the bags. It was untouched, except for some of the cans, which looked a little crushed.

We carried it into the kitchen and put it away.

The stew she had going earlier was leavened with freeze-dried carrots, potatoes and onions. My mouth watered as it simmered on the stove.

I took a couple of cans and asked her if I could open them.

"What's that?" Muriel asked asked.

"It's brown bread," I reply. "Just the thing with stew."

We sat down to dinner that evening. Anita ordered me to say grace.

"For what we about to receive, dear Lord, may we be truly thankful," I say with folded hands. "And God bless Anita and Muriel for saving my life."

As we ate, I said, "This is Barracoon Island, isn't it?"

Muriel nodded.

"I've been by here more times than I can count."

"In what?" says Anita.

"I was first officer on the Andromeda," I reply. "We sailed here every other week. We brought in all the toilet paper," I said between bites. "And magazines, too. Plus anything else that you couldn't grow or make on the island."

"That ship hasn't been here in two years," said Muriel. "It foundered the Christmas before last."

I put my fork down. "Oh," I said. "I had a couple of friends on board."

"There weren't any survivors," said Anita.

Muriel's eyes flashed. "Anita. That was cruel."

"But it was true," replied Anita evenly, taking a bite of the bread. "That's good bread."

"I'm sorry, Michael," said Muriel. "She doesn't mean it."

Anita cleaned off her plate and put it in the sink, then stalked off.

"She's tense. You're not supposed to be here," Muriel said.

"I can't walk to Port Anne," I said. That was only town on the island of St. Albans Island and it was four miles away over the water.

"I know. Just don't get in her way."

I get up with her and start helping with the dishes. She liked my presence at the sink and I could feel her relax. The edginess that Anita projected had a way of making people tense.

To make conversation, Muriel asked, "How long have you sailed?" She looks interested.

"Ten years. Four years on the Andromeda. I joined as second officer and made first officer just before I left."

"Why did you leave?"

"I didn't get along with the Captain.

"You must have seen a lot."

"A little," I reply. "Mostly all the small islands in the Caribbean, like St. Albans, where bigger ships can't go. It was pretty routine."

The sun was getting low in the sky when we finished and Muriel told me that she had to go and tend the light from twilight to midnight.

At twilight, I went out on the porch and watched her start the light. Sure enough, the light flashed one long and three short. It was Morse "B", for Barracoon. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see the lights of some vessel passing by, making its way into Port Anne. It felt nice being on the other side of things. But I still longed to be on that ship.

Muriel sat down next to me and said, "I just love to see that old light flash like that. It's almost a hundred and fifty years old. Think of it, all those ships that have seen it."

"Yeah," I reply. "It's a welcoming sight. How long have you been doing this?"

"Fifteen years. I was the niece of the former keeper and lived with his family here. When he died, I applied for the job. Since no one else would take it, they gave it to me. Anita was at the other light on Snowdrift Point. She had enough experience to be the keeper. So they brought her here and made her the head keeper."

We sat for a while, not saying anything. The night was clear, and a million stars filled the heavens.

But, it was getting past my bedtime and I was tired and sore from all the diving, so I got up and said, "Thank you for a wonderful dinner, ma'am. And you kind company."

I'd been out on that boat for nearly a month and her company was much appreciated.

"You're welcome, Michael," she said. "Sweet dreams."

I was so tired I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I woke up at noon the next day.

There was nothing for me to do, so I tried to relax, but it wasn't easy. On the ship, there was always the day's work, and the boat wasn't too much different.

I liked that boat. It was a pity that it was gone.

So the next few days passed, just as they did at sea, one day melted into another and pretty soon I was losing track of time.

Then one evening, around ten o'clock, I heard the kitchen door slam. I turned the lamp down and looked out of the window. Next to the lighthouse, there was a little storage shed. Like the light and the keeper's house, it was made from coral rock and painted a brilliant white. There was a small window on the side of the building, and that night there was a light within. The window was open to catch the breeze. Their voices floated over to me on the gentle breeze. Then they became quiet and soon after that, I could hear the their gasps and sighs.

The next morning, Muriel looked refreshed and happy. When Anita got up at noon, even she had cheered up.

I kept quiet about it.

A few nights later, a ringing bell woke me out of a deep sleep. When I got up to see what was happening, the lighthouse was dark. Something had happened. Then I saw a ghostly white figure issue out of the shed like a wraith and I could see her charge into the lighthouse and up the stairs to the light. A minute later, the light started rotating again and I was treated to the sight of a very naked Anita dancing around the light, checking to make sure everything was in order.

The next morning, I had breakfast with a rather bedraggled looking Muriel. Anita didn't look much better.

"I heard a bell last night," I said, as we ate.

"The light crapped out again. It's that goddamned generator," grumbled Anita. She held her head in her hands. Her breakfast lay on her plate, untouched.

"Oh," I replied.

"You don't sound too sympathetic," grumbled Anita.

"I'm sorry. I was trying to stay neutral."

"Yeah. You just stay out of the way," snapped Anita. She went to her room and slammed the door.

As we finished the dishes, I told Muriel, "I need something to do or I'll go crazy here."

"Well, you can scrub the floors, I guess," she said.

The made of a beautiful dark hardwood and were worn by years of service. I got a bucket and scrub brush and got down on my knees and scrubbing them clean. After they dried, I oiled and waxed them until they gleamed. By lunch, I had one room done. Only seven more to go, I thought.

After a quick lunch, I tackled the office, which had a huge desk in it. It was obvious no one had ever moved it, so I cleaned around it like everyone else had.

Anita finally got up.

"Hi," she said, combing her hair with her fingers. She actually smiled at me.

"You look nice," I replied.

"I'm a mess."

We ate in silence and at sunset, Anita started the generator and the light sprang to life. Except for the engine noise, the light was completely silent, turning on its bearings like it had for over a century.

After Muriel and I did the dishes, I went out on the porch to enjoy the evening breeze. Muriel joined me and we sat in the chairs and continued our conversation. She loved to hear my stories about going to sea.

"Have you ever been in a shipwreck?" she asked.

"No," I replied. "Except for the wrecking my boat. That was enough."

"Where else have you been?"

"Mostly the Caribbean. That's all. I worked on a larger ship when I first got out of school. We went from New York to Europe, Spain, France, and Italy. It lasted a year. Otherwise, I haven't been to many places."

"Oh, you have," Muriel replied. "You've been everywhere. I haven't been off this island for more than a year since I was a child, except to go grocery shopping in Port Anne.

She bent over me and said, "Tell me some more stories." Her breasts were inches from my face. Her perfume was hypnotic. Then she pulled away and brushed her hair out of her eyes and sat back, smiling.

"That's not fair," I said, my heart racing.

"Why not?" she giggled.

"You're so pretty and I can't touch."

"That's what's so nice about it," she whispered.

"Do you want a story or not?" I asked, smiling.

"Sure."

I told her about my former fiancé. I met her when I was in college in New York. She went to an all-girl's school near mine. I used to slip out at nights to visit her. At first, it was romantic. I'd throw a pebble against her window while I hid in the bushes. She'd turn out the light and open the window to let me in. We'd wrestle around on her bed. She'd get really excited, but never let me go "all the way". So I'd slink back to my room with aching balls. Then, one spring break, she invited me back to her parents' house in Florida. Naturally, I had to sleep in a room upstairs. Since she was the youngest, her parents were pretty old and went to bed early. So we'd go out on the deck by the pool and make out. It was the usual teen grope and kiss. I knew she wanted to do more, but she liked to tease. Then on the last night, she told me to meet her behind the pool house at midnight. I made my way quietly around the pool and behind the pool house. She was lying, naked, on a big beach towel. Her blonde hair was arranged in a fan around her head and she smiled at me and told me to make love to her. It didn't take long, because we were both excited. On the way back to school, I asked her if she wanted to go steady. She said yes. One thing led to another and just before graduation, I proposed to her. She said yes, and we set a date a year from graduation. I went to sea, but after a few months, never heard from her again. When I got back, I tried calling her parents. They told me she had gotten married just the past week. They also told me not to bother her.

"That was sad," said Muriel. "I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"It would have never worked out with her. She was a rich little girl and I was a just a merchant sailor. She's a lawyer some place in Virginia now," I replied.

"I can see how hurt you are."

"I guess," I replied. "It was ten years ago."

"Give me a hug. Maybe that will make things better."

I hugged her, just as Anita came through the door of the lighthouse. She saw us, but didn't say anything.

The next morning, it was as if nothing happened. I got up to start breakfast and made sausage and eggs and coffee. I had some drink mix, so I made a pitcher of orange drink. That was the problem with that lighthouse. There was only one refrigerator and its contents soon ran out. They ran out even faster now that I was there.

I knew I had to be careful.

Anita came inside, tired after her all night vigil with the light. Nothing had happened, which relieved her. I served her breakfast and then myself.

"I saw you two last night," she said as she ate.

"I know. I told her a sad story and she was trying to be sympathetic."

"Muriel's like that," she said. "She's always the peacemaker, always the one who makes things nice."

"She helped me."

"Well, don't let it happen too often. Where did you get the juice?"

"From my boat. It's not real orange juice."

"We don't get too much of that out here, anyway. It's nice to drink something besides water and coffee."

"There's plenty where that came from."

For the next two weeks, I worked hard. I'd finished the floors, and they looked fabulous. The oil and the wax brought them right back. It if wasn't for the worn planks, it would have been like new. Once the inside of the house was done, she gave me work on the outside. There were paths from the house to the lighthouse and one down to the dock. They were made of crushed seashell and bordered with coral rock left over from the construction. They were neat enough, but I set to them, pulling all the weeds out, replacing missing lumps of coral, and adding more crushed shell until they were picture perfect. It was a pity the island was almost entirely sand. Nothing grew there save for a few beach plants.

I cleaned the cistern and repaired leaks in the gutter. Now all the water that ran off the roof would go into the cistern.

I didn't tan easily, but those two weeks in the sun had turned me dark brown.

When I finished, I invited Anita to inspect the work. She walked through it quietly, looking intently at the cistern, and carefully checking what I had done. She took an hour to do that. I stayed with her, keeping quiet.

When she finished, she said, "Thank you. Good job." She walked back into the house and took a shower.

Muriel was starting dinner and I joined her. It had become a ritual with us. I helped with the cooking, set the table and cleaned up afterwards. Muriel enjoyed my presence, and made it known by little smiles, they way she brushed against me, and her hand on my shoulder as I worked. She was wearing perfume now, ostensibly for Anita, but I knew it was really for me.