Day 586

Supply Crate and Rising Tide

The supply boat appeared off the cut mid-morning, engine chugging low. Kevin stood at the dinghy's tiller, Jenny beside him on the dock with the crate inventory. He failed to catch the heaving line on the first throw; Jenny maintained her balance on the unstable dock while coordinating the arrival. "Boat's here. Stay clear of the starboard piling — that plank's still soft," Kevin said. "I've got it," she replied.

Dawn found Kevin on the dock watching grey clouds thicken over the flat horizon as the tide receded, exposing the outer shelf rocks. Jenny sat on the dinghy bench, ankle wrapped in clean gauze. Kevin wrote a brief letter to Tom and secured it with the seed tin and spare impeller in the dinghy's dry bag, then ran the Yanmar under load — smooth, no vibration. Jenny cleaned and re-dressed her wound, noting reduced swelling, and began inventorying the recovered supply crate as the tide rose.

At midday Kevin completed a final Yanmar load test at the dock and prepared the ditch bag with the letter, seed tin E, and spare impeller. Jenny inventoried the crate contents and limped back to the cottage. By afternoon warm rain tapered to a steady drizzle. Jenny sat on the porch cot, ankle elevated, Kevin beside her with the first aid kit. "Ankle looks cleaner. Red line's gone," he said. "It feels less like a heartbeat in my joint. Thank you."

Evening low tide revealed kelp-covered rocks. They finished unloading the waterlogged crate: six tins each of corned beef and mackerel, a sealed coffee jar, fifteen metres of new half-inch rope, two full and one partial roll of heavy-duty canvas, an intact plastic tarp, and roughly twenty unmarked tins. "Six tins corned beef. Six mackerel. One jar coffee, sealed. Rope — new, half-inch three-strand, about fifteen metres. Dry," Kevin called out. "Canvas rolls. Heavy-duty. Two full, one partial. Tarp — plastic, intact. Tinned provisions, unmarked, maybe twenty tins. Can't read labels through the salt."

Night found them at the cottage table sharing corned beef and coffee. The shortwave crackled with a news fragment about unrest in France before fading to static. They ate in silence, barometer steady at 1013 hPa, tide high outside, the supply boat eight days out.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

The Low Tide

Kevin stands on the edge of the dock, watching the receding water expose the rocks of the outer shelf. Jenny sits on the dinghy bench, her ankle wrapped in clean gauze, watching the grey clouds thicken over the flat horizon.

Kevin wrote a brief letter to Tom and secured it with the seed tin and spare impeller in the dinghy's dry bag. He then ran the Yanmar under load and confirmed smooth operation with no vibration. Jenny cleaned and re-dressed her ankle wound, noting reduced swelling, and began inventorying the recovered supply crate as the tide rose.

🌿 Jenny06:19

It's going to rain soon. The sky is too flat.

Shift weight slightly to ease the pressure on the ankle and look toward the shoreline.

💭 thought

He's staring at the tide again. Always the mechanics of the water, never the person sitting five feet away from him. I feel hollow, like I've been scrubbed raw.

🔧 Kevin06:19

Rain's not the problem. Wind shift is. Southwest'll push swell into the cut.

Walk back along the dock toward the cottage, checking the mooring ring's oak wedges as I pass.

💭 thought

The barometer held at 1013 but the cloud deck's dropping. She reads it better than the gauge some days. Need to get the dry bag sealed and the letter written before the supply window opens — eight days isn't much with weather turning.

🌿 Jenny06:21

I can help with the crates if the tide drops enough.

Slowly stand up, leaning heavily on the gunwale of the dinghy for support.

💭 thought

Of course. The swell, the cut, the wedges. Everything is a structural problem to be solved. I'm just a variable in his calculations.

🔧 Kevin06:21

Tide's rising. Crate won't show for six hours. You stay off it.

Reach the end of the dock, grip the gunwale beside her, and hold the dinghy steady against the swell nudging it.

💭 thought

She's steady on the ankle but the calf's still thick. Crate work means hauling wet weight over slippery rock at low tide — one wrong step and we're back to lancing. But she won't sit idle.

🌿 Jenny06:23

I'm not made of glass, Kevin.

Gently push his hand away from the gunwale and step carefully onto the dock.

💭 thought

"Stay off it." The tone of a foreman, not a husband. He thinks he's protecting me, but he's just managing me.

🔧 Kevin06:23

Didn't say you were. Said the crate's underwater. There's seed trays need thinning at the garden if you want something useful.

Let my hand fall. Turn toward the cottage path without looking back to check if she follows.

💭 thought

She's right. She's not. And me hovering doesn't help either of us. The ankle's draining, the fever's gone, and she's been carrying more than her share since the storm. Let her choose the work.

Open this scene on its own page →

the dock · morning

supply boat on horizon

The supply boat appears off the cut, engine chugging low. Kevin stands at the dinghy's tiller, Jenny beside him on the dock, crate inventory in hand. The tide is high enough to cross the bar. Swell pushes from the southwest.

Kevin attempted to secure the supply boat's line but failed to catch the heaving line on the first throw. Jenny managed to maintain her balance on the unstable dock while coordinating the arrival.

🌿 Jenny06:27

They're early. Or we're just desperate.

Hold the inventory list tight and step back from the rotten planks toward the stable section of the dock.

💭 thought

Finally. I can feel the hunger gnawing at my stomach, and my ankle is pulsing with every swell. I hope they brought more antibiotics.

🔧 Kevin06:27

Boat's here. Stay clear of the starboard piling — that plank's still soft.

Walk to the stable end of the dock with the bow line coiled, ready to take a heaving line from the supply boat.

💭 thought

Supply boat's early. Or late. Hard to tell with the radio silence. Either way, the bar's covered and the Yanmar's warm. Time to see what the mainland sends.

🌿 Jenny06:29

I've got it.

Shift weight to the left leg and lean against the railing, clutching the notebook to my chest.

💭 thought

I know where the rot is, Kevin. I'm the one who spent all morning cataloguing the decay.

🔧 Kevin06:29

Take your time. I've got the bow.

Stand at the dock edge with the bow line ready, watching the supply boat's approach, letting the skipper set the pace.

💭 thought

She's favouring the ankle still. Good she's admitting it by leaning. The supply boat's skipper knows this dock better than most — he'll come in slow if he sees her on the rail.

🌿 Jenny06:31

Just get the line secured before the swell pushes them back.

Glance at the supply boat, squinting against the grey light, and check the notebook for the list of requested medical supplies.

💭 thought

"Take your time." As if I'm a fragile piece of glass. I can manage a few steps without breaking.

🔧 Kevin06:31

Ready when he throws.

Plant feet on the dock planking, bow line coiled in left hand, right hand free to take the heaving line, eyes on the supply boat's bow.

💭 thought

Swell's pushing hard on the starboard quarter. Skipper's fighting the current across the bar. He'll need the bow line fast to hold the angle.

Open this scene on its own page →

the dock · midday

Midday Inventory and Engine Test

Kevin is at the dock and Jenny is in the garden.

Kevin completed a final Yanmar load test at the dock, confirming smooth operation with no vibration, then prepared the ditch bag with the letter to Tom, seed tin E, and spare impeller. Jenny inventoried the recovered supply crate contents and began limping back to the cottage to tend her ankle wound.

🔧 Kevin06:33

Kevin — advance throttle to full, watch the tach and feel for vibration through the tiller and transom. Hold it for two minutes.

💭 thought

Engine's been smooth at idle and half-throttle. Time to see if the vibration fix holds at full load. If it shakes loose now, better here at the dock than halfway across the channel.

🌿 Jenny06:35

Jenny — write a list of every item found in the recovered supply crate.

💭 thought

My ankle is throbbing in time with the tide, and I need to know exactly what we have left before the infection takes hold of me entirely.

🔧 Kevin06:37

Kevin — throttle back to idle, let it run a minute to cool. Kill switch. Wipe sweat off my face and check the fuel filter bowl one last time — clear, no water.

💭 thought

Yanmar held steady at 3200 RPM. No vibration through the tiller, no shake in the transom. The bronze sleeve and prop shaft true held. Engine's ready.

🌿 Jenny06:39

Jenny — stand up slowly, leaning on the bench for support, and limp toward the cottage.

💭 thought

I'm starving, and the smell of salt and decay in this garden is making my stomach churn. I need to get inside.

Open this scene on its own page →

the keeper's cottage · afternoon

Ankle re-dressing and crate inventory review

Jenny sits on the porch cot with her ankle elevated, Kevin beside her with the first aid kit. The supply crate inventory list lies between them. The generator hums low from the corner. Outside, the tide continues falling, exposing more of the dock pilings.

The warm rain tapers to a steady drizzle against the cottage roof. Outside, the low tide has fully retreated, exposing the slick rocks of the tide pools and leaving the salt-crusted wooden crate bobbing near the dock pil.

🔧 Kevin06:41

Ankle looks cleaner. Red line's gone.

clean the scalpel in the basin, wipe it on clean gauze, set it back in the kit

💭 thought

The silence between us isn't empty anymore. It's full of things we don't need to say.

🌿 Jenny06:43

It feels less like a heartbeat in my joint. Thank you.

reach for the inventory list and slide it toward him.

💭 thought

He's right, but he says it like he's reporting on a piece of machinery. I wonder if he even notices I'm shaking from the hunger.

🔧 Kevin06:43

Mm. Good.

pick up the inventory list, unfold it, scan the columns with a calloused thumb tracking down the page

💭 thought

She's reading me. Always has.

🌿 Jenny06:45

There are more tinned proteins than I expected. We should probably check the expiry on the beans.

lean back against the cot and watch his thumb move across the paper.

💭 thought

I can tell he's looking for the hardware. He doesn't care about the seeds or the newspapers, just the things that can be bolted down.

🔧 Kevin06:45

Beans don't expire. The tin does. We'll check seals when we store them.

tap the column for tinned provisions with a fingernail, then fold the list slow and deliberate, set it on the cot between us

💭 thought

She's watching my hands more than the list. Let her.

🌿 Jenny06:47

Right. Everything's just a seal.

pull the blanket higher over my lap and shift my ankle slightly.

💭 thought

"Beans don't expire." Typical. Everything is a binary to him—sealed or leaking, functional or broken.

🔧 Kevin06:47

Everything's a seal.

reach for the tin mug on the porch floor, blow across the steam, hold it out to her without looking

💭 thought

The blanket. The shift. Small things she does that aren't small.

🌿 Jenny06:49

Is this tea?

take the mug with both hands, feeling the heat seep into my palms.

💭 thought

He's doing it again. The clinical care. He knows I'm weak, but he won't ask if I'm okay; he just provides the fuel.

Open this scene on its own page →

the old shrine · evening

Evening at the low tide

The tide is at its lowest point, revealing the kelp-covered rocks and the submerged base of the dock. Kevin works to organize the crate while the rain begins to pick up.

Kevin and Jenny finished unloading the waterlogged supply crate at the dock, inventorying six tins each of corned beef and mackerel, a sealed jar of coffee, fifteen metres of new half-inch rope, two full and one partial roll of heavy-duty canvas, an intact plastic tarp, and roughly twenty unmarked tins. The crate itself was salt-crusted and heavy, left floating near the dock for the next low tide.

🔧 Kevin06:49

Kevin — pry open the waterlogged crate with the crowbar and begin inventorying contents, checking tin seals and rope condition

💭 thought

Low tide's the only window to get this crate clear. Rain's picking up — need to inventory fast before the tide turns and the dock gets slick.

🌿 Jenny06:51

I can help with the list, Kevin. Just... leave the heavy lifting.

Limp slowly toward the dock, leaning heavily on a piece of driftwood for support.

💭 thought

I can't just sit here while he does the counting. I'm the one who knows how to actually catalog things. But God, my leg feels like it's being squeezed by a vice.

🔧 Kevin06:51

Sit on the crate. Keep the list dry. I'll pass you what comes out.

brace the crate against the dock piling with one knee, pry the lid wider, and start handing up tins and bundles to Jenny, keeping the heaviest items low and centered

💭 thought

She shouldn't be on this dock with that ankle. Wet timber, swell moving the crate — one shift and she goes down. But she'll stay if I argue. Let her write. I'll move the weight.

🌿 Jenny06:53

Thanks. Just... slowly. No need to toss them.

Sit carefully on the edge of the crate, open the notebook to a fresh page, and begin recording the items as they arrive.

💭 thought

He's being efficient. That's the only way he knows how to be kind, I suppose. I need to make sure this list is precise; we can't afford to lose track of a single tin.

🔧 Kevin06:53

Six tins corned beef. Six mackerel. One jar coffee, sealed. Rope — new, half-inch three-strand, about fifteen metres. Dry.

lift each item clear of the crate, pause to let water shed, then set it in her reach; keep the heavier tins coming first so the crate stays ballasted low

💭 thought

Good. She's off her feet. Crate's stable enough wedged against the piling. Rain's steady now — ink'll run if the notebook gets wet. I'll call it out, she writes, we move fast.

🌿 Jenny06:55

Got it. Corned beef, mackerel, coffee... and the rope.

make list: Recovered Supply Crate Inventory - Day 586. Write the items down in a clean, disciplined column.

💭 thought

Corned beef and mackerel. Again. It's a monotonous diet, but the protein will help the tissue knit back together. The rope is a godsend; the old lines are practically lace.

🔧 Kevin06:55

Canvas rolls. Heavy-duty. Two full, one partial. Tarp — plastic, intact. Tinned provisions, unmarked, maybe twenty tins. Can't read labels through the salt.

haul the canvas rolls up one at a time, shoulder-high to keep them clear of the rising water; stack them on the dock planking; peel the tarp free and shake it once before passing it up; pull the unmarked tins out in twos, wiping salt crust

💭 thought

Crate's lightening. Good. Less weight to haul when the tide turns. Rain's cold on the hands — rope'll be slick. Need to coil it clean so it doesn't kink later.

🌿 Jenny06:57

Unmarked tins... great. Just put them in a pile, I'll scrub them later to see if the labels are just obscured.

Record the canvas rolls and tarp in the notebook, then leave a gap for the unmarked tins to be categorized.

💭 thought

Unmarked tins. That's frustrating. I hate not knowing exactly what's in the pantry; it makes planning the nutrition impossible. But the canvas is a win.

Open this scene on its own page →

the keeper's cottage · night

Evening meal and radio watch

Kevin and Jenny sit at the cottage table with tins of corned beef and mackerel opened between them. The shortwave radio crackles under the tarp, aerial shattered but receiver live. The barometer holds at 1013 hPa. Outside, the tide pushes up the beach, and the supply boat is eight days out.

Kevin and Jenny shared a quiet meal of corned beef and coffee at the cottage table. The shortwave radio crackled with a news fragment about unrest in France before fading into static. They ate in silence, the barometer steady at 1013 hPa, the tide high outside.

🔧 Kevin06:57

Eat the fat. Salt and calories.

Fork a piece of corned beef onto my tin plate, chew slowly, watch the radio's power light flicker steady.

💭 thought

The corned beef fat renders clean in the pan. Good sign — means the seal held. Eight days. Engine's holding. Letter's in the bag. Just need the boat to show.

🌿 Jenny06:59

I can feed myself, Kevin.

Push the piece of beef around the plate with a fork, then take a small, slow bite.

💭 thought

He’s still treating me like a patient or a project. I can feel the hunger, but the clinical way he feeds me makes my throat tighten.

🔧 Kevin06:59

Didn't say you couldn't.

Cut another piece for myself, chew, let the silence sit.

💭 thought

She's steady enough to push back. That's something.

🌿 Jenny07:01

Jenny — look away from him and stare at the radio's flicker, chewing the beef slowly.

💭 thought

That particular brand of silence. The one where he thinks he's being patient, but he's actually just waiting for me to be grateful.

🔧 Kevin07:01

Kevin — wipe the fork on the tin plate, reach for the coffee pot, pour two mugs without asking, set one at her elbow.

💭 thought

She's waiting for the static to break into a voice. So am I.

🌿 Jenny07:03

Thanks.

Wrap fingers around the warm mug and take a sip, feeling the heat seep into my palms.

💭 thought

He doesn't ask; he just provides. It's efficient, but it's like being cared for by a machine.

Open this scene on its own page →

What changed

Jenny is well again.

healed · dawn

The season has turned wet.

season · dawn

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

Found: spare impeller.

item · dawn

supply crate contains greenheart planks suitable for dock sistering

discovery · dawn

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

Jenny made a list: "Every item found in the recovered supply crate".

made · midday

Found: supply crate inventory list.

item · midday

Supply crate contained 6 tins mackerel, 6 tins corned beef, sealed coffee jar, 15m new rope, fishing gear, newspapers, spare spark plug, and new water test kit

discovery · midday

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · midday

The waterlogged crate contains preserved provisions and rope.

discovery · afternoon

Jenny made a list: "Recovered Supply Crate Inventory - Day 586".

made · evening

supply crate contained usable heavy canvas, new rope, and sealed tins despite waterlogging

discovery · evening

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

← Day 585 Day 587 →

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