Day 538

Barometer’s at 981 and dropping. Tide’s coming in. I’ll check the dock ring after first light — low tide’s in about three hours.

stand up, pour water into the kettle, set it on the stove to boil.

I'll take the come-along and the new warp. Won't be on the planks long.

set the kettle back down, pull the heavy weather line and come-along from the shelf by the door.

I’ll stay. Help me rewrap it — clean gauze, sea beet, mint. Then we’ll check the kit.

kneel beside Jenny’s stool, take the old poultice from her hands, unfold a clean gauze pad from the medical kit.

I’m going down to the dock to give the ring a final tug. Back in ten.

walk to the dock, inspect the mooring ring under load by pulling the dinghy’s stern line hard, then return to the cottage.

I’ll keep to the sheltered side. Shout if you need anything.

walk carefully along the shore toward the dock, staying on the higher gravel where the spray won’t pull me off, eyes on the incoming swell, then reach the dock and test the mooring ring by jerking the dinghy’s stern line sideways and fore-a

Won’t be long. Just need to see if it’s holding.

reach the dock, grab the dinghy’s stern line, put my weight into it sideways and forward to test the mooring ring for any shift, then release and jog back toward the cottage, head down against the rising wind.

It’s solid. Coming in now.

run up the path to the cottage, burst through the porch door, and slam it shut behind me, then move to the window beside Jenny to watch the sea rise.

Sorry. Getting out of these wet things now.

pull off my soaked jacket and boots, shrug out of my wet layers, and stand in my undershirt and trousers while Jenny hands me the towel, then begin drying myself quickly by the stove as she feeds kindling into the fire.

On my way. Wind’s backing west—looks like it’s going to sit on us.

walk up to the cottage, step onto the porch, and pull the storm latch on the door shut behind me.

Barometer’s crashing. I’ll secure the aerial and bring the set in—then we’ll check that ankle proper.

grab the coiled spare coax from the porch, climb the mast steps quickly, and disconnect the shattered aerial from the insulator, lowering it to the deck while keeping tension on the feed line.

Coming down. I’ll wrap the coax in tape and stuff the set in the dry bag—then we’ll hit the antibiotics.

climb down the mast, shake rain from the coax, wrap the connector and exposed shield in self-amalgamating tape, then carry the radio and dry bag inside, setting them on the kitchen table away from the wind.

I’ll get the water on. Hold still while I clean it—this is going to sting.

fill the kettle from the rain tank, set it on the wood stove to boil, then take the antibiotic cream and clean gauze from the first aid kit and place them on the table beside Jenny.

(quiet) “Hold tight, Jenny.”

move to the dock, inspect the mooring ring bolts, tighten oak wedges and steel doubler plate further.

I’ll keep it short. Just checking the ring won’t shift under this surge.

finish securing the mooring ring, then head back to the cottage, shaking water from my sleeves at the door.

Tastes like home.

eat the beans and limpets, then wipe my hands on my trousers and lean back in the chair, watching the light go from the window.

Yeah. Tastes like we're still here.

finish my portion, then stand and fill Jenny's tin mug from the water bucket, setting it beside her elbow where she can reach it without moving.

Kevin — sit still in my chair, hands loose on my knees, watching the last light fade from the window until the room goes grey.

Yeah. I'll check the shutter fastenings after dark.

stand slowly, stretch my back where it's stiff from sitting, and walk to the window to press my palm against the glass—feel the vibration of the rising wind already in the frame.

I'll be careful. Just need to make sure the shutters won't tear loose in the gusts.

pause by the window, then turn and walk slowly to the cottage door, testing my weight on the bad ankle with each step, keeping my hand on the wall for balance.

I know. I'll be back before the first squall hits.

step onto the porch, close the door softly behind me, and move south along the wall toward the shutter fastenings, stepping wide to avoid the loose gravel where the tide washed it up.

On it. Just securing the stern line and checking the reef points.

walk to the dock, inspect dinghy mooring lines and sail reef points for chafe or looseness, tighten any slack with sail twine, secure loose ends.

I’ll finish tightening the reef points, then head back. I’ll keep a close eye on the tide.

inspect the mooring line skirt for wear, replace a chafed splice on the stern line with new half‑inch rope, lower the dinghy a bit to relieve load, secure the sail reef points, walk back to cottage.

Coming in now.

sprint back to the cottage porch, shake off excess water, hang the flashlight on the hook by the door, step inside and close the door firmly against the wind.