Day 634

The Supply Boat Does Not Come

Kevin sat at the radio shelf through the morning, tubes glowing, static on Tom's frequency. He raised no one. At noon he called the supply boat on 2182 and caught only a fragment of a commercial broadcast. At 1300 he tried 4125 kHz. "Sorrel Island calling supply vessel. 4125 kHz. Request position and ETA. Over." Nothing. "Log it. 1307, no contact on 4125. We try 6215 at 1600."

Dawn found the barometer at 994 hPa, the air heavy and the sky flat. Kevin drove two new oak stakes into the garden to replace those snapped by the coconut crab, then checked the tarp corners. Jenny tried to debride her ankle with the sterilized scalpel, but her hands trembled too badly from pain and fever to do the work. The tide came in high, swell rolling steady against the dock pilings. A jellyfish bloom drifted pale and slow into the bay.

The barometer held at 995 hPa. Cloud cover thickened. Jenny watched the red line of infection migrate farther toward her knee. "I have four doses left. The ankle is getting hot again, Kevin." He said, "Four doses. Two days. We'll make them count." She insisted she needed to debride it herself. "That's not debridement territory anymore, Jen. That's hospital territory."

Rain filled the tank, about twenty-five litres. Kevin tested the Yanmar under load at the dock; a persistent vibration shook the engine. Jenny secured the shade cloth anchors with chain and spruce offcuts as the pressure dropped. In the cottage the air smelled of sea beet poultice and woodsmoke. Kevin mixed copper sulfate, one percent, for the tomato rows. "Jenny. Put the scalpel down. I'll do it when I'm back from the garden. Ten minutes." The wind shifted. A squall swept through — wind first, then a wall of rain.

Scenes

the keeper's cottage · dawn

The Rising Pressure Warning

Jenny sits on the porch with her ankle propped on a cushion while Kevin checks the barometer. The flat sky thickens and the air is growing heavy and sticky with the approaching rain.

Kevin checked the garden tarp corners and drove two new oak stakes to replace those snapped by the coconut crab. Jenny attempted to debride her ankle with the sterilized scalpel but her trembling hands made the work difficult. The barometer continued its steady rise to 994 hPa as the tide came in.

🔧 Kevin18:34

Barometer's steady. 992. Boat's due tomorrow if the weather holds.

Set a tin mug of hot limpet broth on the porch rail beside Jenny's cushion. Wipe hands on trousers. Walk to the radio shelf and flip the power switch, letting the tubes warm up.

💭 thought

Barometer's holding at 992. Sky's thickening but pressure's steady — not a fast drop. That's something. Jenny's ankle looks clean, no red tracking past the incision. She's quiet. Always is when she's hurting bad. Supply boat's due tomorrow if the channel holds. I'll key the radio at 1400 on Tom's frequency like I said I would. Might not say much. Might not say anything. But I'll key it.

🌿 Jenny18:37

Check the lime in the garden again before it pours.

Take a slow sip of the broth and look at the darkening gathering over the matching ridge.

💭 thought

If the boat comes, I need those strips. The damping-off is driving me mad.

🔧 Kevin18:37

Will do.

Walk down the porch steps toward the garden, pulling the hood of the oilskin up. Check the lime spread on the beds, test a handful of soil, re-stake the tarp corners where the wind's got under them.

💭 thought

She's right. Lime spread's 90% done but the rain's coming in thick. If it washes before it beds in, the pH shift's wasted. Need to check the beds, re-stake any tarp corners lifting. She's watching the ridge — knows the weather better than she lets on.

🌿 Jenny18:39

Then we'd better mark the grid references for the Carex transect tomorrow, before we lose daylight. Then we'd better mark the grid references for the Carex transect tomorrow, before we lose daylight.

Press the sea beet poultice gently and check for increased heat along the red streak. </think>THOUGHT: The tarp corners are taking more strain each day and I've only got one roll left. Press the sea beet poultice gently and check for increa

💭 thought

The tarp corners are taking more strain each day and I've only got one roll left.

🔧 Kevin18:39

Transect's cairned. Data's in the notebook. I'll mark the grid refs on the chart tonight by lantern.

Finish checking the garden tarp corners, drive two new oak stakes where the crab snapped the old ones. Walk back up to the cottage, pull the island notebook from the shelf, open to the Carex transect page.

💭 thought

She's thinking ahead. Carex transect on the north ridge — three cairns placed, data logged. But if the supply boat comes tomorrow, daylight's tight between unloading and the tide turn. Grid references need marking tonight while there's light. Her ankle's hot along the streak. Infection's not done with her yet.

🌿 Jenny18:41

Check the lime one last time before the sky opens.

Pick up the scalpel and the saline wash, hands shaking slightly.

💭 thought

The pressure is dropping again. I need to get that ankle clean before the boat arrives.

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the keeper's cottage · morning

Morning radio watch

Kevin sits at the radio shelf with the mic in hand, tubes glowing, static on Tom's frequency. Jenny is propped on the porch cushion with her ankle elevated, a fresh poultice bound on, the barometer at her elbow reading 994 hPa rising. The tide is high and the swell rolls steady against the dock pilings.

Kevin failed to raise Tom or the supply boat on the shortwave, hearing only static. Jenny watched the barometer hold steady at 994 hPa and noted a jellyfish bloom drifting into the bay. They parted to their separate tasks: Kevin to test the Yanmar under load at the dock, Jenny to debride her ankle and apply a fresh poultice at the cottage.

🌿 Jenny18:43

The bar is moving, Kevin. Check the frequency again.

Reaches for sketchbook to sketch the rapid movement of the sea beet leaves in the wind.

💭 thought

The pressure is dropping too fast for the own to stay steady for long; the storm is coming before the supply boat even arrives.

🔧 Kevin18:44

On it. Watch the pilings from the porch — if the north one shudders, shout.

key the mic on Tom's frequency: "Sorrel Island, Sorrel Island, this is Kevin. Barometer 994 rising. Swell building on the bar. Report conditions your end, over."

💭 thought

She hears it too. The barometer says rising but the swell's wrong — long period, pushing hard against the pilings. Bar's shifting. I'll key the mic again, then check the dock lines before the tide turns.

🌿 Jenny18:45

I'm watching it.

Leans forward, squinting through the grey light where the water meets the wood.

💭 thought

If that north piling goes, the whole dock shifts, and I'm stranded here with no boat.

🔧 Kevin18:45

(into mic, quiet) "Tom. Tommy. You copy? This is Kev. Over."

hold the mic loose, thumb off the key, listening through the static for any break — voice, carrier, anything

💭 thought

Good. She's steady. The poultice is holding the fever down. Now I need to hear if Tom's radio is even working, or if the storm took his aerial too.

🌿 Jenny18:48

Nothing. Nothing.

Remove the poultice from my hand and place it carefully on the table. </think>THOUGHT: The static is swallowing everything. Is there even a boat coming? Remove the poultice from my hand and place it carefully on the table.

💭 thought

The static is swallowing everything. Is there even a boat coming?

🔧 Kevin18:48

He's not there. Or his aerial's down. I'll try the supply boat frequency at noon.

set the mic back in its cradle, stand, and walk to the porch door to check the dock lines myself

💭 thought

She's taking care of me now. The poultice was meant for her ankle but she's setting it aside like I'm the one who needs tending. The radio's dead air. Tom isn't answering. The swell keeps building — I can feel it in the floorboards.

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the keeper's cottage · midday

Midday radio watch and engine verdict

Kevin returns from the dock as the sun climbs, wiping grease from his hands. Jenny sits on the porch with her sketchbook, ankle elevated, the barometer at her elbow. The shortwave sits warming under the tarp. It's nearly noon — time to try the supply boat frequency on 2182.

Kevin called the supply boat on 2182 at noon and received only a fragment of a commercial broadcast. He logged the failed contact and waited by the radio for the 1300 attempt on 4125. Jenny monitored the barometer, which held steady at 995 hPa, and managed her ankle pain while watching the thickening cloud cover.

🌿 Jenny18:51

The pressure is holding. Try the radio.

Reach for the shortwave, tune the dial to 2182, and wait for the static.

💭 thought

If the boat doesn't answer today, the two pills won't be enough for the fever.

🔧 Kevin18:51

2182. Noon watch.

walk to the radio shelf, key the mic, and call: "Sorrel Island calling supply boat on 2182. Over."

💭 thought

The barometer holding steady at 994 is the first good sign in weeks. If the supply boat's coming, today's the day. If not, we've got ten days of stores and the crossing window narrows.

🌿 Jenny18:59

Jenny — lean back against the stone wall, watching the needle on the barometer, listening for a voice.

💭 thought

Silence. Just the hiss of the salt in the air.

🔧 Kevin18:59

Nothing. Dead air.

set the mic down, note the time in the logbook, and wait for 1300 to try 4125.

💭 thought

Static only. Same as 0800. The supply boat's either not there, not listening, or the skipper's changed. Jenny's notation said try 4125 at 1300 if 2182 fails. Different watch, different radio. Wait the hour.

🌿 Jenny19:01

We'll try the other one at one.

Rub the edge of the ankle, feeling the heat radiating through the gauze, and watch the clouds.

💭 thought

If that frequency is down, I'll have to use the boat's emergency channel.

🔧 Kevin19:01

1300. 4125.

stay by the radio, eyes on the clock, hand near the mic.

💭 thought

She's burning through antibiotics and the boat's a ghost. If 4125 fails, the crossing window decides itself — we go when the weather breaks, medevac forms or not. One hour.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

Radio watch on 4125

It is 1300. Kevin keys the mic on 4125 kHz and calls the supply boat. Jenny sits beside him, notebook open, recording. The sky has gone a flat grey-white; wind stirs the shade cloth over the garden.

Kevin attempts a third radio transmission today at 1300 while the rain continues to fill the water tank. Jenny attempts to debride her ankle infection, but her hand tremors and fever make the precision work difficult and incomplete.

🌿 Jenny19:05

Sorrel Island to any vessel. This is Sorrel Island. Do you copy?

Watch the radio dial while tapping a pencil over the notebook.

💭 thought

If the signal doesn't catch now, the antibiotics are going to run out before the boat does.

🔧 Kevin19:05

Kevin — write in radio logbook: 1300 - 4125 kHz - Jenny calling supply boat

💭 thought

Let her call. She knows the procedure. I'll log the time and frequency.

🌿 Jenny19:07

Sorrel Island, come in. We need a status update on the supply boat. Over. continuedDO: Lean closer to the speaker, listening for a break in the white noise.

💭 thought

Just static. The humidity is eating the signal just like it's eating my patience.

🔧 Kevin19:07

Kevin — watch the S-meter needle stay pinned at zero, thumb resting on the mic switch

💭 thought

Nothing but static. The skip's not helping. Let the silence run a beat before I try.

🌿 Jenny19:09

Jenny — sigh sharply and release the PTT button.

💭 thought

Nothing. Not even a ghost of a signal.

🔧 Kevin19:09

Sorrel Island calling supply vessel. 4125 kHz. Request position and ETA. Over.

key the mic, hold it steady, release and listen

💭 thought

She's frustrated. The pencil's tapping again. Let me take a turn at the mic — different voice, different timing sometimes cuts through.

🌿 Jenny19:11

It's just the atmosphere, Kevin.

Scribble a quick sketch of the cloud formation in the margin of the notebook.

💭 thought

The air is too heavy today. It's like the waves are hitting underwater.

🔧 Kevin19:16

Log it. 1307, no contact on 4125. We try 6215 at 1600.

write in radio logbook: 1307 - 4125 kHz - no contact - next attempt 1600 on 6215

💭 thought

Could be. Could be the boat's radio is down, or they're sheltering somewhere, or the skip's just eating us today. Either way, the log shows we tried.

🌿 Jenny19:55

Kevin... I need you to check the medical supplies manifest. Kevin... I need you to check the medical supplies manifest.

Slide the sealed medical kit across the table. </think>THOUGHT: Seventeen hours without confirmation. The antibiotics won't wait that long. Slide the sealed medical kit across the table.

💭 thought

Seventeen hours without confirmation. The antibiotics won't wait that long.

🔧 Kevin19:56

Kevin — break the tape seal on the medical kit, lift the lid, count what's inside

💭 thought

She's not asking about the radio anymore. The kit's seal is intact — I tied it off after the last dressing change. She wants eyes on what's left.

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the keeper's cottage · evening

Evening huddle

Kevin and Jenny meet in the small kitchen as the rain slows to a drizzle. The smell of damp wood and salt fills the air as they plan the night.

The air in the cottage is thick with the smell of sea beet poultice and woodsmoke. The barometer continues to drop, signaling a shift in the heavy dry heat. Jenny sits at the table, her face pale with sweat, as the red line of infection on her leg has visibly migrated further toward her knee.

🔧 Kevin19:57

Radio's quiet. Tried 2182, 4125, 6215. Nothing but static and a Spanish trawler working the shelf. Supply boat's not coming tonight. Maybe not tomorrow either.

set two tin mugs on the table, fill them from the kettle, push one toward her

💭 thought

She looks better than noon. Still grey under the eyes, but the fever's broken some. The rain stopping means the barometer's done its work — 994 and holding. Night'll be cold, clear. Good for the radio. Bad for the ankle if she doesn't keep it up.

🌿 Jenny20:01

I have four doses left. The ankle is getting hot again, Kevin.

Jenny takes the mug with both shaking hands, wincing as the movement shifts her weight.

💭 thought

If the boat doesn't come, I'll run out of antibiotics before the infection clears.

🔧 Kevin20:01

Four doses. Two days. We'll make them count.

pull the other chair out, sit heavily, wrap my hands around my own mug

💭 thought

Four doses. That's two days if she spaces them. Less if the fever spikes again. The heat in the joint means the infection's tracking up the leg — cellulitis moving past the abscess site. She needs the leg elevated, cold compresses, and the rest of that augmentin in her on schedule. And she needs to not walk on it.

🌿 Jenny20:03

It's going to rain. I need to change the poultice before the fever spikes.

Jenny reaches for the notebook, her fingers trembling as she opens it to the page of sea beet morphology.

💭 thought

The barometer is dropping again; I can feel the pressure in my joints.

🔧 Kevin20:03

I'll do the poultice. You drink the broth. Take the dose.

reach across the table, close the notebook with my palm, slide it away from her

💭 thought

Her hands won't hold the scalpel steady. Not with that tremor. She'll hack herself open if she tries another debridement tonight. The sea beet's ready in the basin — I saw it steaming when I came in. She needs me to do the poultice change. She needs to drink the broth and take the dose and sleep.

🌿 Jenny20:05

Kevin, I need to debride this myself. The infection's tracking. Kevin, I need to debride this myself. The infection's tracking.

Jenny pulls her sleeve up, revealing the red line creeping toward her calf, and pushes the notebook back toward him. </think>THOUGHT: He's trying to protect me from seeing how bad it's gotten. Jenny pulls her sleeve up, revealing the red li

💭 thought

He's trying to protect me from seeing how bad it's gotten.

🔧 Kevin20:05

That's not debridement territory anymore, Jen. That's hospital territory.

stand up, push the chair back, go to the medical kit on the shelf

💭 thought

The red line's past the knee now. Tracking up the thigh. That's not cellulitis anymore — that's lymphangitic spread. Sepsis territory. Four doses of augmentin won't touch this if it's in the lymphatics. She needs IV antibiotics. She needs a medevac. She needs the supply boat to materialize out of nowhere. She's trying to be brave and it's going to kill her.

🌿 Jenny20:09

I can't leave them. I haven't found the soil.

Jenny grips the edge of the table, her way white, she watches him reach for the kit.

💭 thought

If I go to the hospital, the seeds stay in the tin. They'll rot.

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the keeper's cottage · night

Evening storm watch

The still air has finally broken; the first cool gust of wind whistles through the thatch. Jenny's fever has spiked, and the four remaining doses of antibiotics feel alarmingly small.

Kevin tests the Yanmar engine under load while the dinghy is moored to the dock, noting a persistent vibration. Jenny secures the shade cloth anchors using the chain and spruce offcuts as the air pressure drops.

🌿 Jenny20:10

Kevin? The wind is shifting. Check the ownings again.

reaches for the way with a shaking hand, tracing the needle drop to 992 hPa.

💭 thought

If the barometer hits 990 before the boat comes, I'm not going to be able to walk to the dock.

🔧 Kevin20:10

Copy. Be right back.

walk to the porch and check the barometer reading

💭 thought

The barometer's fallen another point since I was up on the roof. She's tracking it closer than I am. That's not nothing.

🌿 Jenny20:13

Don't forget the salt-spray on the garden.

winces as she shifts her weight, reaching for the tin of sea beet honey poultice.

💭 thought

It's dropping too fast. If this storm hits hard, the dinghy isn't the only thing to worry about.

🔧 Kevin20:13

Copper sulfate's mixed. One percent. Sprayer's by the door. I'll hit the tomato rows first — they're showing the stress.

grab the copper sulfate spray bottle from beside the porch door and head to the garden

💭 thought

Salt-spray on the garden. Right. The copper sulfate. She's thinking ahead while burning up. That's her.

🌿 Jenny20:17

Watch out for the gusts, it's coming fast.

picks up the sterilized scalpel, her hand trembling visibly as she prepares to debride the infection.

💭 thought

He's out there while the wind is picking up, and my leg feels like it's on fire.

🔧 Kevin20:17

Jenny. Put the scalpel down. I'll do it when I'm back from the garden. Ten minutes.

pause at the garden gate, looking back at the cottage porch

💭 thought

She's doing it again. Trembling hands, fever spiking, and she's picking up a scalpel. I should be the one holding it.

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What changed

The supply boat came.

supply_arrived · dawn

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

Gave up on "plan" after 3 failed attempts.

job_dropped · dawn

garden soil amendment is finished.

project_done · dawn

medevac preparation: 40%.

project · dawn

coconut crab activity continues at garden shade cloth anchors; two oak stakes snapped at ground level

discovery · dawn

hand tremors from pain and fever are severe enough to prevent fine surgical work

discovery · dawn

Jenny made a sketch: "Rapid movement of the sea beet leaves in the wind".

made · morning

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

jellyfish · morning

medevac preparation: 50%.

project · morning

jellyfish bloom present in the bay

discovery · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

medevac preparation: 60%.

project · midday

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · midday

Gave up on "make" after 3 failed attempts.

job_dropped · afternoon

A sudden squall sweeps through — wind first, then a wall of rain.

squall · afternoon

medevac preparation: 70%.

project · afternoon

medevac preparation: 80%.

project · evening

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

medevac preparation: 90%.

project · night

← Day 633 Day 635 →

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