Reflections

         My subconscious woke me from my unnatural sleep. Try as I might, my lungs would not draw in the delicious air. Opening my eyes, I find that I am submerged, the salt water burning my eyes at the unexpected intrusion.

         Frantically, I try to broach the surface. My booted feet connect with a solid object, and pushing with all my force, launch myself clear of the shallow water. Before I can breathe in the fresh, life giving air, I must heave the remaining seawater from my lungs. Realization hits that I am only in a knee-deep pool of water. Neither the recollection of entering the water nor the knowledge of my whereabouts registers in my mind.

         This area is dark. My hand is not visible in front of my face. Reaching along the bottom of the pool and recognizing that the floor is made of wood. Waves crash outside of the dark room. Slowly move my feet, when there is a flash of light. This dimly illuminates the room showing me a brief outlay of the area. I can recognize the hull of some ship, though I could not explain how. The few shapes that could be seen in my quick glimpse appear to be boxes of some sort. Perhaps I am in the cargo hold.

         Another flash, and an understanding occurs that lightning is causing the brief clarification of my dark cell. Although, as of yet, I cannot identify where the source is coming from.

         This last flash introduces me to a short ladder that should lead up to the next level of the ship. Something is sitting on top of the hatch, push as I may, the hatch will move an inch or two but no more.

         Retrace my steps back down into the water, the level is now up to my thighs. Peering into the dark depths, trying to fathom the reason for such an occurrence, another flicker appears before me. I can see a small opening athwart ships from my present position where the lightning flashes can penetrate. Joy overwhelming at the thought of being able to escape my prison.

         I trudge along the pool warily, not wishing to strike any sharp objects that could lay unseen about the hold. Shortly I reach the location of the source of light. The hull of the ship has been wrenched apart at this point. Shards of wood float near at hand and long splinters protrude from the puncture. The hole is located under the waterline. It is a rather large opening, guessing that no more than two men could fit through it side by side.

         Reaching into the gap, only to find a sharp rock barring the way. the pain from the cut is not as worrisome as the outlook for my escape. Diving under, there is no visible way around the lone stone wall of my cell.

         Lightning flashes again. A crevice in the rock allows me the view of the water's surface. Near two fathoms down and slowly moving toward oblivion.

         I stand to take a breath. The water level is now above my waste. The grinding of the hull against the rock overcomes the sounds of the crashing waves on the surface. A feeling of dread ensues at the thought of rising water level.

         Knowing not what to do, the glimpses of lightning are becoming very faint; soon, there will be no view at all.

         Hands are starting to shake at the notion of drowning in this unfamiliar place. Suffocation begins to take hold as the weight of the situation bears against my breast. Even though the water level is only chest high, the knowledge of my impending doom overshadows any other thoughts in my mind. Moving back over to the ladder and try unsuccessfully to open the hatch, I lower my shoulder and force all my weight against the unmovable object. Recoiling, the extreme pain is mostly ignored.

         The water is coming at a rush now. My knowledge of the apparent depth of the sea astounds me, but at the moment, do not want to think about it.

         The level is up to my head in the diminutive compartment. Breathing comes from only a pocket of air that is escaping rapidly out the crack of the hatch. The one thing that I desperately wanted to open was now the one thing that needed to remain sealed for me to survive.

         The air dispels quickly. I am forced to take one last breath as I delve beneath the surface. A thought wishes to consume me. 'Expel the life from my lungs and allow the abyss to consume.' Just as the thought occurs, the ship alters its descent.

         Objects bump me as I am frantically trying to make the rupture in the hull. Lungs are beginning to burn at the lack of fresh air. 'Where's the hole? Where is it? I can't feel it! It should be right... There it is.'

         Just pulling myself free, lightning flares across the surface of the sea. I have a long way to go.

         My body wants to release the used gases from its lungs. It desires to draw in fresh air. I start to let out bubbles in short bursts, but quickly it turns into a desperation attempt. Sight begins to fade to darkness. No longer have I any bubbles to exude, let alone try to see them. There is no comprehension of my limbs working at all.

         Unconsciousness befalls me. My body naturally draws its desired breath. Water mixed with air enters my lungs igniting my conscience once more. My arms can be felt thrashing about the surface of the water. My belabored breath draws in the cool fresh air between rasping coughs.

         The happiness is short-lived as a flash followed by booming thunder reveals a tree line far in the distance. Not knowing if land is reachable, arms begin a steady pace along with kicking of the feet. If any other thought had entered my mind, I would wonder where the knowledge of swimming had come from.

         Rain is falling hard now. Even lightning does not give evidence of the trees anymore. Tiredness overwhelms me. Thoughts tell me that arms and legs will not move much farther. Limbs stop working. Lungs are on fire. Feet head toward the bottom as I take my last breath.

         'I can breath.' My head remains above the waterline. Boots are against solid ground. I cannot be happy yet. No view of the shoreline is visible. Maybe this is just a sandbar.

         Either I stand here until daylight, or continue on. Both decisions are not without hazard. Who knows what sorts of sea creatures lie in wait in the shallows of these waters, yet, what if the direction I choose turns me back to the depths of the sea?

         No matter at the moment. Rest must come now.

         Standing in the sea, straining to hear through the downpour and thunder, I can hear waves crashing again. Two sets of them, if my mind is functioning properly. Turning my head this way and that, the sounds are coming from two separate places. Assuming one set is from the rocks and the shipwreck, the other must be the shore.

         'But, which is which?'

         Deciding the best course to take, I head in the direction of one of the sounds. Shoulders are out of the water now. Plodding on further, the waves are curling around me.

         Soon my waste is out of the sea. "Oh Joy!" I yell at the feel of the sand. Collapsing on the shore, scooping up handfuls of the land in my fingers, I kiss the sand in merriment.

         Pure exhaustion overtakes my senses and sleep prevails.


         "What is poking me? Stop it!"

         A fluttering of wings as my eyes open to see a gull fly off squawking. "I'm not dead yet!" Shut my eyes again at the bright sun. Roll over and attempt to get to my hands and knees. Muscles ache at the exertion.

         I don't recall the length of time of the much-needed rest. The storm has abated and the exhilaration that fills my body gives me strength to stand and look about. 'Oh blue. The wonderful blue skies and ocean. You are a sight to see.'

         Left and right, there are no signs of civilization. The beach is long in either direction. The sand is white and deep.

         I force myself to turn and look at the path I traveled. No sign of a ship is in view. The rock shelf is fairly far from shore, maybe two hundred yards. There is some debris floating near the shore, but none of it is salvageable.

         Laughing, I see the lagoon for what it is. I swam the entire length to reach the shore near the tree line; however, the beach runs in a sort of horseshoe out toward the rocky reef. If I had turned in either direction, my swim would not need to have been so far. In truth, the path chosen was the longest possible that could be taken to the shore.

         There is nothing to see on the horizon. As far as the eye can see, there is only water. My next thought brought me to face once again the tree line. 'There has to be some water here. All these trees have to drink from somewhere.'

         The thought of taking off my boots came and went. Even though the sand would feel good on the toes, there was no knowing what lies within the dense forest.

         With hunger and thirst pushing my legs forward, the search for sustenance begins. The trees are sparse early on. Travel is easy enough. The sandy floor does not allow much to grow near the shoreline. There is no water or fruit here either.

         Fifty yards in and the foliage becomes dense. The small palm bushes grab at my arms and scratch me. The leaves are long and strong. They can be used to make some sort of twine. 'But how do I know that?' Finding a straight stick, the branches can be moved easily aside to allow passage.

         After about an hour trek, the sound of trickling water fills my ears. Weary as I may be, I can still rush to the sound. A small creek comes into view. The soundness of my mind breaks at the knowledge that thirst will be quenched. Without another thought, I fall onto my knees at the water's edge. Eagerly gulping down the water that tastes so fresh and clean. I have drunk my fill. My mind, at least the part that is remembered, has come back to me. Food is still a priority, but so is shelter and knowledge of the area that surrounds me.

         I decide to follow the creek inland, to my fortune. Bananas are growing in abundance. Most of the fruit is not yet ripe, but there are a few with delicious bunches. Two of the largest go down the gullet, with little to no taste.

         Shoving four bananas down my shirt, I follow the creek to where it was found, continuing past back toward the lagoon. The stream twists and turns, but for the most part heads in that general direction.

         Both of us reach the shore. From an unfamiliar sense, there is a surety that the lagoon is around the bend to my right. I make for the lagoon, since it is my only knowledgeable position and a good starting point for mapping the land.


         Feet are sore from walking. I return to the lagoon after my third day of traversing the land.

         Stranded. On an island that appears to have no inhabitants. The southern quarter of the shoreline is unapproachable by sea. Sharp rocks line the base of the sheer cliffs on that side. The east and west sides are encompassed by great sandbars that can be seen at low tides. The only chance for a ship to approach would be via the lagoon.

         The temporary shelter that has been built on the beach will not last long. The long palm branches provide adequate shade from the sun, but a stiff breeze blows it over too often. Decidedly, a new refuge is being built within the safety of the trees.

         "I am sick of bananas! After the shack is finished, I will start to catch some fish."

         I look out over the beautiful blue. There is no change to it. No ship to come and rescue me.

         Arm thick saplings are stacked at my feet. Each is about eight feet in length. I dig holes approximately two feet deep into the sand dirt mix. I stand four of the sapling poles into the cavities and pack each with sand. Salt water assists with the packing process. Across the tops of the poles, other saplings are tied. The palm leaves indeed make a good rope, when bound tightly together.

         Palm branches are interwoven across the sides and top of the hut. A good shaking of the abode reveals that the structure is quite sound. As long as no hurricane comes and destroys the island, my hut should withstand most storms.

         "A tree branch would make a good spear for fishing." A mangrove branch has the perfect weight and strength. A sharp rock used properly, whittles the end into a sharp point.


         The fortieth day has come to my island. I am alone in the blue. No ship has been seen on the horizon, neither spec nor dot punctures the ever blue. Uman and I can catch a fish in about ten tosses now. I wade in the shallows of the lagoon with Uman poised and ready. A dark shadow approaches from the deep water. We stand perfectly still as the large fish approaches. Ten feet from us, Uman tells me to wait, but I ignore him again. Uman flies and misses his target. Frustrated at Uman for being right again, I intend to leave him where he lies. Giving in again. Uman has been a trusted friend, and where would I find another like him around here.

         This time I listen to Uman and we strike the next fish in the side. Together, we rejoice at our catch. "No bananas for us tonight."I smile as I carry Uman and our catch to the shore. Soon, I have a decent fire in the pit and we feast.

         I lay under the stars tonight and wonder if I will ever be found. "Is there anyone who would know me?" I ask Uman, but he doesn't know. The name Uman, I wonder where I came up with it. I remember carving the spear, and the name just fit. "Tomorrow, we build a storage pit, you and I."

         The new morning comes much like the ones before, bright sunshine and not a cloud in the sky. I remember that I want to build a pit today. Uman helps me to break up the earth under the sand. Uman stands aside as I clear away the loose soil. "Would you look at this?" I say pointing to the hole. "Another friend has come to help us in our endeavors." Uman doesn't help me at all, pulling out William. "He reminds me of a William." I say to Uman and William. Neither argue, so the rock became William.

         William was rather large and hard headed. He displaced much loam. Dragging him clear of the hollow, William is set in the hut next to where Uman sleeps. I make sure he is all right before heading back to my task. William listens better than Uman, and he doesn't tell me what to do. He feels right at home in the shade and is thankful for his spot.

         Returning to the pit, I give Uman a reproachful glance. The pit is over half complete with the removal of William. "Tomorrow we will get provisions for the storage pit." Uman just gives me that same expression. "I don't know why we need provisions. Maybe there is some type of season change here, or maybe monsters of the deep come to feed from this island. Why do you ask me questions that I cannot answer?"

         I say not another word to Uman during my digging.

         It is late when the task is finished. With just the three of us, the storage pit can hold about three months worth of food. Fruit will not last that long, but the cooked fish will stay well kept.


         I have lost track of the days. The winds and rains have come twice to the island. The hut needed significant repairs after the last ones.

         Uman and I have explored the island, thrice. William volunteers to remain behind and guard the campsite. I think that he intends to pilfer extra food from the stores, but I make sure to take an accurate inventory before each expedition.

         Uman and I walk the beach once again. hope has faded that I will ever be rescued. I am sick of the constant blue. Uman tells me that I am crazy. I just laugh at him.

         Boots have fallen to pieces today. No matter, the path is well worn along the creek to my bountiful Eden. We go east today. Uman says we should go the other way, but I ignore him.

         Part way along our walk, a lone palm drops one of its large seeds. It rolls only a short distance from me. It looks familiar to me. "Margaret? Is that you?" I rush to pick her up. "Yes, it is you, my stringy brown haired lady.

         "Where have you been hiding?"I have found William and Uman so long ago. I am glad that you are here."

         Margaret smiles at me in that knowing way of hers. I comb her hair back with my fingers and the trio heads back to camp. She sits next to William, and Uman lies in his makeshift cot. I sit across from the three and listen to them in their reunion.

         After sitting for a while, we decide to head down for a swim. William is always the last to make it to the water. I tell him that he appears to be gaining weight, but he does nothing about it. I wade into the shallows, only ankle deep. The others wait expectantly at the shore. "Why don't you all come in?" They refuse. Not understanding, I grab William and pull him into the water. He fights me the whole way, reminding me that he cannot swim. It is only to his ankles, but he is steadfast to go no further.

         Margaret tries to back away as I approach. She slips from my grasp as I lead her to the water. She falls to the sand and does not move.

         A sudden recollection enters my mind. 'I have seen her fall before.' I take a step back from the scene and I accidentally step on Uman. He shifts under my feet and I fall. Pressure and pain engulfs the back of my head. I landed on William.

         I can no longer feel my arms and legs. The warm water caresses my face and tickles my ear, but I cannot move to avoid it.

         As I look into the blue sky, understanding arises in me like a full sail on a windy day.

         I remember where I came from, who I am. I am aware of the orders that were given me. My name is James Mills. The identification feels foreign to me now, but I know it. I am first mate to the infamous pirate, John Evans.

         We had just captured a sloop, when the skipper ordered the release of the Lucretia. He had said that the schooner was too slow for his purposes. He sent a crew of seven, along with myself, to the island of Disseada in the year 1722.

         The Captain had pulled me aside before the release of the Lucretia. I remember his words well. "None are to see the port." He said to me. I nodded my understanding.

         The Lucretia was released and I led the small crew toward the islands. William was the easiest and first to go. He was a cook that could not swim. One night, I knocked him out and threw him overboard.

         Uman was the toughest. He had been an expert harpooner. He was of African decent, and always wary of the English. It was hard to get near him without his being alarmed. He and I had known each other a long time. He probably trusted me more than any other. His mistake. When the chance came, I ran him through with his own harpoon.

         Four others came next. I knew not their names or their origins. They had come from the captured sloop. Each one died that same night, in their sleep. Throats are easy to cut in the night.

         That left Margaret. She and I were to take the Lucretia and sell her for a hefty sum. Together, we could've lived a long time in these islands, or even journey to St. Augustine. Alas, she did not see things my way. She knew I had been the one to kill the others. She thought I was to kill her too. She would not listen to me. She climbed the main mast and out onto a yardarm as I followed. I made it halfway up the mast when the winds from an approaching storm hit. The ship was tossed about. I cared not about the storm. I only wanted my brown haired lass back. The wind threw the sails to and fro. I looked down in time to see the rocks approaching. There was nothing that I could do. Peering back, I witnessed a section of the sail tear and whip Margaret. She was knocked off the yardarm and fell to the deck. She did not move again.

         Just then the Lucretia hit the rocks. The main mast snapped below me and I fell. the hatch to the hold was open. I went in, and the mast crashed over the top, closing off the hatch as I entered.


         Now I lay looking at the blue. The water is creeping over my chin. I try to laugh, but cannot. In reflection of the simple irony, Captain Evans' orders were followed through. No one made it to Disseada. Also, the crew got their revenge.

         The water is covering my eyes. I wish to close them, but muscles will not work. Even with my head submerged, there is still the blue.