Day 203

Waiting for the Supply Boat

Dawn broke under an overcast sky. Kevin and Jenny stood on replaced planks, watching the horizon for the supply boat. The tide sat low, exposing rocky pools. As rain began to fall from the west, Kevin attempted to pry up a rotting section of the dock to assess the damage. Kevin checked the dinghy while Jenny observed fungal damping-off on the pepper and lettuce seedlings. A rat got into the pantry. The rain tank gained about 25 litres. In the evening, they ate gathered limpets. Kevin performed mechanical checks on the Yanmar engine. "Bendix sticking," he noted, before the engine started. "She's alive," he said. Inside, as rain hit the tin roof, Jenny organized heirloom seeds and completed salt gland illustrations in a new notebook. Kevin calculated the seed potatoes: "Thirty-two eyes, four rows, eight per."

Scenes

the dock · dawn

Waiting for the Boat

Kevin and Jenny stand on the replaced planks, watching the horizon for the supply boat. The air is thick with salt spray, and the barometer holds steady against the overcast sky.

The dawn breaks under an overcast sky as the tide sits low, exposing the rocky pools. Kevin and Jenny prepare for the arrival of the supply boat the following day, checking the barometer for any shifts in the wet season weather.

🔧 Kevin09:44

He's late.

scan the horizon west to east, hand shading eyes against the glare off the water

💭 thought

Dawn's breaking grey and flat. Mickey's late — not like him. Barometer's steady at 1028, wind's light northwest, but the swell's building from the west. Something's off. He'd have been here an hour ago if the front wasn't moving faster than forecast.

🌿 Jenny09:45

The tide is turning. He should have cleared the point by now.

Trace the grain of the new dock plank with my thumb, checking for soft spots.

💭 thought

If he doesn't show up tomorrow, the fuel for the generator will get dangerously low.

🔧 Kevin09:46

Engine trouble, or the front moved faster than the forecast.

turn toward the cottage, pull the radio handset from the hook on the porch post

💭 thought

She's right. Flood tide should've carried him round the point twenty minutes ago. The new planks feel solid underfoot — copper nails holding, epoxy cured. Good work. But Mickey doesn't miss windows unless weather or something worse stops him.

🌿 Jenny09:47

Check the log again before you assume the worst.

Reach into my pocket and grip the small tin of grandmother's seeds, cold metal against my palm.

💭 thought

It's never the forecast; it's always the island pushing back.

🔧 Kevin09:48

Log's in the wheelhouse. Last entry was his ETA and cargo. No mention of trouble.

walk back to the cottage, climb the porch steps, lift the shortwave handset and key the mic on channel 16

💭 thought

She's steady. Calmer than me. The log's in the wheelhouse — last entry was Mickey's ETA, weather window, cargo manifest. Nothing about mechanical issues. But the tin in her pocket... she's carrying the heirloom seeds like a talisman. Or a promise.

🌿 Jenny09:48

Ask them to check the visual reports from the mainland station.

Walk to the edge of the jetty and look out at the grey line where the sea meets the sky.

💭 thought

If he's not on the radio, the silence is going to get very loud.

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the dock · morning

Morning Day 203

You and Jenny meet at the dock as the sun begins to struggle behind the thick clouds, planning the final preparations.

Kevin and Jenny inspect the dock planks as rain begins to fall from the west. Kevin attempts to pry up a rotting section to assess the extent of the damage, while Jenny checks the garden and prepares for the supply boat's arrival.

🌿 Jenny09:50

The way is holding, but the wind is shifting to the west. We need to secure the wayhy before the tide comes up.

Sketch the rot pattern on the two jetty planks in the own to show Kevin exactly where they need to cut.

💭 thought

If the boat doesn't come tomorrow, we're out of flour and fuel by Friday. I need to check those rotten planks before the rain worsens.

🔧 Kevin09:52

Cut line marked?

walk to the jetty end and crouch beside the two rotten planks, studying her sketch against the actual grain

💭 thought

She's right about the wind. West means chop building on the crossing tomorrow. And she's already mapped the rot — good eye, better than guessing.

🌿 Jenny09:54

I marked it in the notebook. Cut past the soft center, or it won't hold the weight.

Point to the greyest discoloration on the left plank with a pencil.

💭 thought

He's looking at the wood, but I'm looking at the horizon. If he cuts too shallow, the whole thing sags under the boat.

🔧 Kevin09:55

Notebook's here?

reach for the pencil, trace my thumb over the marked line on the left plank, feeling the spongy give under pressure

💭 thought

Notebook's in the cottage. She carried it down. She's thinking ahead.

🌿 Jenny09:56

Right here. Don't push too hard or you'll put your finger right through it.

Hand him the notebook, open to the sketch page.

💭 thought

He's touching the wood, but he's almost touching me. It's been a while since we were this close without a tool between us.

🔧 Kevin09:57

Good work.

take the notebook, flip the page to the sketch, compare it to the plank, then tuck the pencil behind my ear and stand

💭 thought

Sketch is clean. Measurements noted. She's been measuring while I slept.

🌿 Jenny09:58

Go get the waybar. We need to pry these up before the swell gets too high.

way the salt spray from my eyes and look toward the cottage.

💭 thought

"Good work" is all he says after I've spent hours documenting the decay. The rain is getting heavier now.

🔧 Kevin09:58

Back in a minute.

jog up the path toward the cottage, boots hitting the wet boards of the porch steps, grab the wrecking bar leaning by the door, and turn back toward the dock

💭 thought

Wrecking bar's in the cottage porch. She's already moving — good. Tide's pushing.

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the dock · midday

Midday Storm Prep

The rain intensifies, turning the dock into a slick surface. Kevin and Jenny meet under the shelter of the porch to discuss the priority list for tomorrow's arrival.

Kevin spends the midday at the dock checking the dinghy preparations for the supply boat's arrival. Jenny focuses on the garden, noting the fungal damping-off on the pepper and lettuce seedlings. The heat remains oppressive as they prepare for tomorrow's delivery.

🌿 Jenny10:00

We need to be specific with Mickey. I don't want a generic crate of 'supplies'—I need actual fungicides and a specific potting mix if they can source it.

Lean against the porch railing, watching the rain turn the dock into a mirror.

💭 thought

I can feel the humidity clinging to my skin. He's probably thinking about fuel and grease; I'm thinking about the damping-off in the cells and the seeds still in the tin.

🔧 Kevin10:00

I'll write it on the radio log. Copper sulphate, sulphur dust, peat-free ericaceous mix — twenty litres minimum. And tell him to bring the big tarpaulin, the green one, not the blue. Blue shreds in a week.

make list: supply boat priority list

💭 thought

She's right to be specific. Mickey brings what he thinks we need, not what we ask for. If I write it down, he'll follow the list. Mostly.

🌿 Jenny10:02

Thank you. And a new set of fine-tipped tweezers. Mine snapped.

Rub my thumb and forefinger together, mimicking the precision of the tool I lost.

💭 thought

He's actually listening to the details for once. It's almost enough to make me trust the list, but the blue tarps really are garbage.

🔧 Kevin10:02

Tweezers. Fine tips. Stainless if they have them.

make list: supply boat priority list

💭 thought

She's been doing delicate work. Seed work. The damping-off in the peppers and lettuce — she's trying to save what she can, one seedling at a time.

🌿 Jenny10:04

I'll add it to the list. We can't afford to forget.

Pull the notebook from my pocket and scratch 'STAINLESS TWEEZERS' in the margin of the radio log.

💭 thought

Stainless would be better. The salt air eats everything else eventually.

🔧 Kevin10:04

Got it.

walk to the cottage

💭 thought

She knows where I keep the log. Knows the shorthand. Twenty-three years of marriage and the silence between us has its own grammar.

🌿 Jenny10:06

Jenny — stay on the porch, watching the rain lash the dock, then turn and walk slowly toward the garden shed.

💭 thought

He's retreating. Every time the conversation gets too focused on the needs, he finds a reason to walk away.

🔧 Kevin10:06

Kevin — walk to the cottage

💭 thought

She's checking the tarp on the seedlings. The corner was flapping earlier. Wind's southeast — drives rain straight at the garden.

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the dock · afternoon

Preparation for the Boat

The sun begins its slow dip as the air remains still. They meet at the dock to review the manifest for tomorrow.

The sun hangs low over the island, casting long shadows across the decaying dock planks. The tide is receding rapidly, exposing slick, salt-encrusted rocks along the northern shelf. The humid air is heavy with the scent of salt and drying kelp as the pair makes the final preparations for the supply boat's arrival.

🔧 Kevin10:08

Manifest's in the wheelhouse. Diesel first, then the crate with the injector parts. Water pump impeller goes on the porch — don't want salt spray on the bearings.

Check the dinghy's forward spring line chafe point, then walk the dock planks one more time, tapping each with the crowbar to confirm the new copper nails hold.

💭 thought

The tide's falling clean. Good holding ground for Mickey's anchor. Just need to make sure the spring lines take the load when he swings.

🌿 Jenny10:08

Did they confirm the tonnage on the diesel? I don't want to be short again.

Lean against a sturdy piling and watch him tap the planks, stomach growling.

💭 thought

He's treating the manifest like a checklist for a machine. He hasn't mentioned the food or the mail, just the hardware.

🔧 Kevin10:10

Two hundred litres on the manifest. Mickey said he'd top it to two-fifty if the tide holds. We'll dip the drums before he casts off.

Finish the plank check, then climb into the dinghy to verify the Yanmar starts cold — thumb the decompression lever, spin the flywheel, feel for compression.

💭 thought

She's right to ask. Last time Mickey shorted us forty litres and blamed the pump calibration. I didn't catch it until the generator sputtered at 3 AM.

🌿 Jenny10:10

Don't flood it. You're too eager.

Step closer to the edge of the dock, watching the movement of his hands on the flywheel.

💭 thought

That engine is the only thing he seems to trust these days. I wonder if he thinks the diesel is more reliable than we are.

🔧 Kevin10:12

Not flooding. Just checking compression. Three blades, she'll catch.

Spin the flywheel once more, slow, feeling each cylinder bite. Then thumb the decompression lever closed, set the throttle cracked, and hit the starter button.

💭 thought

She knows that engine better than she lets on. Watched me nurse it through three winters in the shed. Her ankle's swelling again — can see the brace cutting in above the boot.

🌿 Jenny10:12

Come on, turn over. Just once.

Wipe sweat from my eyes with the back of a hand, watching the engine block for any sign of life.

💭 thought

If it doesn't turn over, I'm going to lose my mind. The heat is already too much.

🔧 Kevin10:14

Bendix sticking. Give it a tap with the hammer while I hold the button.

Hold the starter engaged, reach for the ball-peen hammer on the gunwale, tap the starter motor body sharply twice — then release the button and listen.

💭 thought

Starter motor whines but the bendix isn't engaging — that worn spline Mickey warned me about. Battery's got juice, cables are clean. Just the bendix dragging.

🌿 Jenny10:14

Careful! You'll crack the housing.

Lean forward, holding my breath, listening for the sound of the diesel catching.

💭 thought

He's too aggressive with that hammer. One wrong strike and we're rowing.

🔧 Kevin10:16

She's alive. Number two's dripping. Tighten the union nut when she warms.

Let the engine settle to idle, hand on the throttle lever ready to bump it if she hunts. Watch the exhaust for blue smoke.

💭 thought

Housing's cast iron. Hammer won't crack it. Bendix just needed the shock to seat the splines. Engine caught — running rough on one cylinder, white smoke from number two. Injector's still weeping.

🌿 Jenny10:16

She sounds steady enough. Now turn it off before you waste the fuel we're waiting for.

Step back from the dock edge and stretch my arms, glancing toward the cottage.

💭 thought

Finally. Now he can stop obsessing over the bendix and maybe remember we haven't eaten since lunch.

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the dock · evening

Evening preparations before the arrival

The tide continues to drop, leaving more of the rocky tide pools exposed as they gather their tools for the morning light.

Kevin and Jenny meet at the dock as the air thickens and the pressure begins to drop. They prepare for the supply boat's arrival by securing the dinghy and preparing a meal of gathered limpets.

🔧 Kevin10:18

Kevin — walk to the dinghy and check the forward spring line, then run a second stern line to the cleat

💭 thought

The light's going fast. Need to get the dinghy lines doubled and the fenders out before dark — Mickey won't wait if the weather turns.

🌿 Jenny10:18

It's not going anywhere, Kevin. The tide is practically gone.

Lean against a sturdy piling and watch him, rubbing my chafed ankle through the fabric.

💭 thought

He's obsessing over the lines again. I can feel the hunger making my hands shake slightly.

🔧 Kevin10:20

Habit.

coil the extra line and hang it on the cleat, then walk back toward the cottage

💭 thought

She's right. Tide's out, boat's sitting on the bottom anyway. But Mickey comes in hot and I'd rather have too much line than not enough.

🌿 Jenny10:20

I'm coming. I think I can smell the limpets from here.

Push off the piling and walk slowly toward the cottage, favoring the braced ankle.

💭 thought

Habit. That's all we have left—habits and silence. I need to eat something before I crash.

🔧 Kevin10:22

Kevin — fall in beside her, matching her pace, and rest a hand on the door frame as she goes in first

💭 thought

She's moving slower than yesterday. The streaks haven't faded. Antibiotics in the tea won't be enough if it's tracking past the knee.

🌿 Jenny10:22

Check the stove. I want to get those limpets going.

Walk past him into the kitchen and head for the tin of tinned mackerel.

💭 thought

He's just standing there. Waiting for me to say something that isn't about the boat.

🔧 Kevin10:24

Kevin — light the stove and fill the pot with seawater from the bucket by the door

💭 thought

She's forcing herself to move. If she didn't need to eat, she'd be in bed. Light the burner under the pot, get the water boiling — limpets cook fast, and she needs the protein.

🌿 Jenny10:24

Thanks.

Open a tin of mackerel and slide it onto a plate, staring at the steam starting to rise from the pot.

💭 thought

He's moving in sync with me, but it feels like a choreographed dance rather than a conversation.

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the keeper's cottage · night

Waiting for the Tide

The two of you sit inside as the wind finally picks up, and the first heavy drops of rain hit the tin roof.

The air thickens as the pressure drops, signaling a shift in the wet season weather. Kevin performs final mechanical checks on the Yanmar engine for the boat's arrival, while Jenny organizes the heirloom seeds and monitors the damping-off in the seedling trays.

🌿 Jenny10:26

It's starting.

Stir the pot of limpets on the stove.

💭 thought

The barometer is falling. If it hits 1010, the boat won't make it. I can't focus on the silence when the air feels this heavy.

🔧 Kevin10:26

Aye. Wind's backing northwest like the glass said. Mickey's window's tightening.

check the shortwave radio's power and squelch, listening for Mickey's call or any weather traffic

💭 thought

The barometer's drop matches what I'm feeling in my chest — this front's moving faster than Mickey said. Four hours at first light might be generous.

🌿 Jenny10:28

If the wind shifts any further, he'll stay in the harbor.

Ladle the limpets into two bowls.

💭 thought

He's already calculating the window. He always does. I wonder if he's calculating if we're actually getting off this rock or just waiting for more tinned beef.

🔧 Kevin10:28

He'll come if he can. If he can't, we've got stores.

take the bowl she hands me, blow across the steam, and eat — hunger's been sitting low all day

💭 thought

She's not wrong. Northwest backing west puts the harbor entrance ugly. Mickey knows these waters better than most — he'll read the same signs and make the call. But he also knows what we're waiting on.

🌿 Jenny10:30

Stores aren't the same as a plan, Kevin.

Sit down at the table and eat slowly.

💭 thought

"Stores" aren't a life. We're just stockpiling calories while we wait for the island to swallow us.

🔧 Kevin10:30

No. They're not.

set the spoon down, the limpets half-eaten, and reach for the notebook where I sketched the seed potato grid — the closest thing to a plan I've made in weeks

💭 thought

She's naming it now. The thing I've been turning over since the letter arrived — since before. Stores keep you alive. A plan gets you somewhere. I've been confusing the two for eleven months.

🌿 Jenny10:32

What?

Lean in to see which part of the sketch he's looking at.

💭 thought

Why is he looking at the grid now? He usually ignores the garden unless it's in the way of a tool.

🔧 Kevin10:33

Seed potatoes. Thirty-two eyes, four rows, eight per. If the blight doesn't take them, they're calories in November.

tap the pencil sketch — neat squares, spacing marked — then flip the page to the blank back where nothing's written

💭 thought

She caught me hesitating over a garden grid when the real plan — Tom's letter in the waterproof bag, the medevac forms on the table, the dinghy moored and ready — sits unspoken between us. The potatoes are the only thing I've committed to paper.

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What changed

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · dawn

Jenny made a sketch: "Rot pattern on the two jetty planks in the own to show Kevin exactly where they ".

made · morning

Kevin made a sketch: "Gainst the actual grain".

made · morning

Jenny made a sketch: "Page".

made · morning

A rat has gotten into the pantry.

rat · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

Kevin made a list: "supply boat priority list".

made · midday

×2

A jellyfish bloom has drifted into the bay, pale and slow.

jellyfish · midday

Detailed salt gland illustrations complete on new notebook page

discovery · afternoon

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

Jenny made a sketch: "He's looking at".

made · night

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a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.