Day 334

Aye. Leave the dock for when the tide eases. I'll take the radio shelf—see if Tom's frequency's cleared up. You keep at those seeds; they'll need the lime we saved.

walk to the radio shelf, lift the shortwave aerial insulator (repaired with epoxy and ceramic), tune to Tom's frequency, listen for any sign of life through the static.

I'll hold the paper down if the breeze kicks up. You go ahead and sprinkle the lime once they're surface-dry—don't want to burn them.

place my hands flat on the corners of the newspaper to weigh it down, watching the seeds spread out in the morning light, waiting for the first sign of dryness.

Take your time. The lime isn't going anywhere.

keep my hands on the newspaper corners, eyes drifting to the shortwave—watching the dial glow, waiting for a voice that hasn't come in eleven months.

Tide's dropping clean. Give it twenty minutes, we'll see the mortise proper.

lean against the dock rail, watching the water recede, one hand on the warm wood

Wedges held. No shift I could see from up top. But your eyes are closer.

walk down the dock to stand beside her, shading the mortise with my body so she can see the bolt heads clear

Yeah, I felt a whisper of movement when the last swell hit. Salt's winning this round.

pull the crowbar from my belt and lever the ring up just enough to slip a feeler gauge into the mortise gap — checking for play at top and bottom

How deep?

drop to one knee beside her, pull the nail puller and probe the mortise walls — feeling for the sound wood line, jaw tight

We'll have to chop it out. Sister in a new plug — greenheart if we've got it, or treat the core and plug with epoxy.

stand, stretch my back, and walk to the dock shed to check the scrap pile for a sound greenheart offcut long enough to make a mortise plug

Aye. It's eaten right through. This scrap's no good for a plug — too short. We'll have to cut out the bad and sister in a longer greenheart piece. Hand me the crowbar and the saw.

take crowbar and saw from dock shed, begin cutting away rotted wood around mooring ring mortise to expose solid timber for sistering.

I'll saw the perimeter first. You want to run the tape measure along the sister piece? Need to know how deep we're going.

saw a clean rectangle around the rotted mortise, cutting through to sound wood, then set saw aside and pick up chisel and mallet to remove the decayed core.

Three inches it is. I'll deepen the cut to match.

deepen the saw cuts to the marked lines, then use chisel and mallet to carefully remove the rotted core in sections, working inward from the edges to avoid splitting sound timber.

Hold it steady — I'm going to check the overlap.

kneel and inspect the fit of the new timber against the existing plank, ensuring proper overlap for bolting.

Got it. I'll drill from the top — keeps the water from pooling in the hole.

pick up the brace and bit, align with Jenny's pencil mark, and begin drilling the first bolt hole through the new timber into the old.

Slow and straight. Bit's sharp.

maintain steady pressure on the brace, keeping the bit perpendicular to the grain, drilling clean through both timbers.

On it.

shift the brace to Jenny's new mark, clear the hole of chips, and drill the second bolt hole through both timbers.

Here.

hand Jenny the heavy wrench from the tool bag, then pick up a bolt and start threading it through the first hole by hand to catch the threads clean.

Holding.

grip the protruding bolt end with the adjustable wrench to keep it from turning while Jenny torques the nut flush.

Evening's coming on.

walk up the ridge path toward the old shrine, the softwood scrap warm in my pocket

Kevin — stand beside her, eyes on the carved wood nestled in the stone gap, the trade wind steady in my face

Kevin — let the silence hold, the sun low behind the cliffs, the sea quiet below

Aye.

turn and follow Jenny down the ridge path toward the cottage, the shrine fading behind us

Sound good. I'll check on the mint after.

keep pace with Jenny down the slope, the cottage lights just visible through the trees

Won't forget.

walk the last stretch to the cottage porch, the mint sprigs waiting on the rail, the shortwave humming low inside

Jenny, tide's out. I'm heading to the dock to check the mooring ring — see if those oak wedges have worked loose. Want me to grab anything while I'm down there?

walk down to the dock, keeping pace steady despite the hunger gnawing at me. The exposed pilings gleam wet in the fading light, and I scan for the mooring ring as I approach the shed.

Will do. Back before full dark.

reach the dock and crouch at the mooring ring, running my fingers around the mortise joint to feel for any shift or play in the ring itself. The wood's wet and cold.

Ring's tight. No play in the mortise. Wedges are doing their job.

straighten up and grab the heavy wrench from my belt, testing each of the four 150mm through-bolts on the doubler plate — feeling for any looseness in the nuts, any rotation under torque.