Day 405

Copy.

walk to the left corner of the shade cloth, pull the tension line tight through the oak stake cleat, and secure it with a half-hitch

On it.

walk to the south edge of the garden, lift the tarp where it's pooled, and wedge a flat stone under the corner to create runoff toward the drainage swale

I'll cut a trench if it's already brackish.

kneel at the south edge, scrape a shallow V-channel in the soil with the hand trowel to redirect runoff away from the tomato roots, then taste a fingertip of the damp earth to check salinity

We'll shift the seedlings at low tide, when the wall's dry and we can move without sinking.

stand, brush dirt from my knees, and walk to the cottage to fetch the spare tarp and wooden stakes for temporary bed marking

Let me see that. Hold still.

Gently take her leg, rinse the wound with clean water from the bucket, pat dry with a clean cloth, then reapply fresh antibiotic ointment and rewrap the ankle with a sterile gauze strip, keeping it snug but not tight.

The antibiotics are working. Takes time to catch up. Keep your foot up on the stool. I'll get you water and something hot in you — broth, maybe.

Set a mug of hot limpet broth on the table beside her, pull the stool closer so her leg stays raised, and sit down opposite with the radio log notebook to monitor the frequency while she eats.

The boat's due tomorrow at 0600. Barometer's rising. Window's holding.

Reach over and push the seed tin a few inches closer to her, silent, then turn back to the radio log and make a notation: 0600 supply boat ETA — confirmed. No traffic on Tom's freq since last check.

The beds aren't going anywhere. You are staying in that chair until the boat comes or I carry you to the dinghy myself.

Pick up the tin, unscrew the lid, and set it in her lap — close enough to touch, close enough to weigh something real — then go to the stove and top off her mug with the last of the broth.

Take your time.

Sit back in the chair opposite, keep the radio log open on my knee, and listen to the static on Tom's frequency — just in case — while the barometer climbs slow and steady on the shelf.

Aye, feels like it. I'll go check the mast stays and weight down the tarp. You rest that ankle—elevate it if you can.

walk to the porch, grab the spare ratchet straps from the tool bag, and head toward the radio mast to begin re-tensioning the storm lashings.

Will do. The generator tarp too, or just the porch?

grab the tool bag from beside the generator, pull out two spare ratchet straps and a length of heavy line, and head out to the radio mast to re-tension the storm guys.

On it. Radio check first — want the supply boat frequency hot in case they call early.

Walk out onto the porch, pull the shortwave off the shelf, power it up and dial to the supply boat working channel. Listen for traffic while scanning the dock lines through the rain.

Tin's under the porch overhang. Tarp's battened. It's dry.

Step back inside, set the shortwave on the table beside her notebook, squelch open on the supply boat frequency. Cross to the wood stove, ladle hot broth from the pot into a tin mug, set it next to her elbow.

Frequency's quiet. No traffic yet. I'll keep the speaker up so we both hear it.

Pull the folding chair from the wall, sit beside her at the table. Keep one eye on the radio dial, the other on the rain-lashed window where the dock disappears into the grey. Wait for the tide to turn.

Wind's shifting. Going to check the mooring ring bolts before it gets dark. You stay put — broth's good, rest your ankle.

Push back the chair, grab the crowbar and torque wrench from the porch hook. Step out into the rain, hood up, and jog south toward the dock where the mooring ring sits in its mortise.

Algae's thick at the low water mark. I'll stay on the planks.

Step onto the dock, boots finding the grip strips I nailed last month. Crouch at the mooring ring mortise, crowbar ready. Check each of the four 150mm through-bolts — torque wrench set to 35Nm, verify no play.

I’ll go down and ring the bolts tight, then run a second line from the bitt to the ring. You keep the radio on Tom’s frequency—if he’s listening, he’ll hear us.

walk down to the dock, grab the wrench and spare line from the tool locker, check the tightness of the four through-bolts on the steel doubler plate, then secure a second stern spring line from the dinghy’s forward eye bolt to the dock bitt

Bolts first. Then the line. Be right back.

tighten the four 150mm stainless through-bolts on the steel doubler plate with the torque wrench set to 35Nm, then splice the spare half-inch three-strand rope into a second stern spring line from the dinghy's forward eye bolt to the dock b

(nothing — focused on the splice)

finish the long splice on the half-inch three-strand rope, serve the eye with sail twine, shackle it to the dinghy's forward eye bolt, lead it aft to the dock bitt and take up the slack with a rolling hitch

Line's on. Boat won't drift. I'll check the ankle when I'm back—clean it, rewrap.

walk back up the jetty to the cottage, grab the antiseptic, clean gauze, and the antibiotic blister pack from the shelf by the door

Broth's hot. Eat while it holds heat.

ladle limpet broth into two enamel bowls, set one on the table by her chair, take the other to the porch rail

Not asking if you're hungry. Telling you to eat.

sit opposite her at the table, blow across my own bowl, watch her hands on the spoon

Sketch looks right. Gland structure at the mid-marsh zone.

drink broth straight from the bowl, set it down, reach for the notebook to turn the page carefully

North transect confirms. Beet's the only thing keeps growing past the tide line.

tap the notebook page with one finger, glance at the seed tin on the counter