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Day 924

Supply Boat and Spreading Infection

The supply boat *Meridian* appeared on the horizon at dawn. Kevin secured the dinghy's mooring lines while Jenny sat on a crate, checking her ankle wrap for swelling. "Boat's here. You staying on the crate?" Kevin asked. "I'm coming. Give me a second," she replied. He boarded and confirmed the Yanmar impeller and antibiotic packs were in the green crate. "Impeller's lashed to the starboard rail. Green crate. Captain knows," he called back. "Check the antibiotics first, please," Jenny said. "I'll check. You stay off the gunwale."

The supply boat *Meridian* appeared on the horizon at dawn. Kevin secured the dinghy's mooring lines while Jenny sat on a crate, checking her ankle wrap for swelling. "Boat's here. You staying on the crate?" Kevin asked. "I'm coming. Give me a second," she replied. He boarded and confirmed the Yanmar impeller and antibiotic packs were in the green crate. "Impeller's lashed to the starboard rail. Green crate. Captain knows," he called back. "Check the antibiotics first, please," Jenny said. "I'll check. You stay off the gunwale."

Kevin installed the new impeller, struggling with seized bolts in the humid heat. Jenny sorted the blue food crate on the dock, planning a trek to the north ridge for sea beet leaves. "Impeller's in the pouch. I'll have the Yanmar breathing raw water inside twenty minutes. You want the coffee on before I button the housing?" Kevin asked. "Coffee's already on. I'll check the Yanmar after," she said, reaching for her notebook.

By midday the engine ran clean. Jenny returned limping heavily; the redness had spread past the morning's pen mark. Kevin applied a fresh sea beet and honey poultice and gave her two doxycycline tablets. "Past the line. I'll get the sea beet and honey," he said. "Doxy at eight. Two tablets."

The harbour master raised them on 2182: high tide 0642, southwest 15 gusting 20, barometer 1024 falling slow. "Ten days. That's enough time for the fever," Jenny said. Kevin planned to reach the northern shelf at 0530 low tide for more sea beet and to check the north slope soil. "Seeds come first. Always," he said.

Rain intensified at night. Kevin went to check dock lines and the north piling shim. "Don't stay out too long. The swell is coming," Jenny warned. "The water is getting too high under the pilings!" she called. "Watching it," he answered from the darkness.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

Supply Boat Arrival Prep

Kevin secures the dinghy's mooring lines as the supply boat appears on the horizon. Jenny sits on a crate, clutching the manifest and checking her ankle wrap for swelling.

Kevin boarded the supply boat and confirmed the Yanmar impeller and antibiotic packs were in the green crate. Jenny remained on the dock, monitoring her ankle while watching the transfer. The supply boat crew began offloading the remaining crates onto the dock.

🔧 Kevin08:23

Boat's here. You staying on the crate?

check the dinghy's bow line and stern spring are holding clean, then walk up the dock toward the cottage to meet the supply boat crew

💭 thought
Boat's early. Captain said high tide tomorrow. Either the weather window shifted or he's running ahead of the front. Either way, the impeller's aboard and that's what matters.
🌿 Jenny08:23

I'm coming. Give me a second.

stand up slowly, wincing as weight shifts to the good leg, and limp toward the dock.

💭 thought
If they didn't bring the antibiotics, I'm going to lose my mind to this rot.
🔧 Kevin08:24

Take your time. I've got the lines.

hold the dinghy's bow line taut against the swell, watching her come down the dock, ready to steady her if she needs it

💭 thought
She's pushing through it. Always does. Ankle's not right but she won't let it stop her.
🌿 Jenny08:25

I'm fine, Kevin. Just slow.

reach out a hand to the dock railing for balance, eyes scanning the boat's deck for the crates.

💭 thought
He's being too helpful again. It makes me feel like a broken tool.
🔧 Kevin08:26

Impeller's lashed to the starboard rail. Green crate. Captain knows.

step onto the supply boat's gunwale as it comes alongside, reach for the first line they throw, and take a turn on the dock cleat to hold her steady against the swell

💭 thought
She's scanning for the impeller crate. The rest can wait.
🌿 Jenny08:27

Check the antibiotics first, please.

limp to the edge of the jetty, ignoring the throb in my ankle, and look for the green crate.

💭 thought
If that impeller isn't in the crate, the Yanmar is going to be a tomb.
🔧 Kevin08:28

I'll check. You stay off the gunwale.

climb aboard the supply boat, move to the starboard rail where the green crate is lashed, cut the lines with my knife, and pry the lid open to verify the antibiotic packs before anything else

💭 thought
She's worried the manifest's wrong. Or that the captain forgot. Five days' doxy and the metronidazole cache — if they're not aboard, we're making hard choices.
🌿 Jenny08:29

I'm staying right here.

lean my weight against the rotting timber of the dock, watching his hands work with the crate.

💭 thought
If that box is empty, I'm going to rot on this island.

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the dock · morning

Yanmar impeller install and crate inventory

Kevin kneels at the dinghy's transom with the new impeller and tool roll, while Jenny sorts through the blue food crate on the dock planking. The supply boat's engine thrums as it holds station, crew waiting for the return of the empty sling. Morning light cuts sharp across the water at 1025 hPa steady.

Kevin works on the Yanmar impeller housing, struggling with seized bolts in the humid heat. Jenny prepares her ankle and plans the trek to the north ridge for sea beet poultice ingredients.

🔧 Kevin08:31

Impeller's in the pouch. I'll have the Yanmar breathing raw water inside twenty minutes. You want the coffee on before I button the housing?

kneel at the dinghy transom, open the tool roll, crack the raw water pump cover and swap the impeller

💭 thought
Good light, steady pressure. Impeller in hand, engine cold. This is the window — install it clean, test at load, get the dinghy ready before the front hits. Jenny's ankle held on the walk from the cottage; she's sorting supplies quiet. Don't hover. Let her work.
🌿 Jenny08:33

"Coffee's already on. I'll check the Yanmar after." (I reach for the notebook, fingers already calculating when I can get back up to the ridge for those sea beet leaves before the poultice loses potency)

Sit heavily on the crate, unscrew the notebook lid, and make a quick margin note: "Need fresh poultice ingredients - sea beet leaves + honey before 1200"

💭 thought
The poultice dried hours ago - I need fresh leaves and honey before noon. My ankle's throbbing even with the elevation. Kevin means well but he's treating me like a project instead of letting me just... be here.
🔧 Kevin08:33

Margin notes save lives. I'll have the engine warm by the time you're back from the ridge.

torque the pump cover bolts, wipe the housing dry, swing the Yanmar's decompression lever and spin the flywheel by hand to verify free rotation

💭 thought
She's tracking the poultice window. Good. Means the ankle's not taking her mind off the work. Old impeller came out in pieces — vanes brittle, two missing. New one seats clean. Housing gasket held. Torque bolts to spec, don't rush the alignment.
🌿 Jenny08:35

"Just make sure you don't over-torque the bolts." (I look down at my ankle, the skin is tight and angry, pulsing in time with my heart)

Stand up slowly, shifting my weight to my good leg, and start toward the path leading to the north ridge.

💭 thought
He's so focused on the mechanics, he doesn't see the rot in the wood—or in me.
🔧 Kevin08:35

Bolts go to 12Nm. I'll watch your track from here.

pick up the torque wrench, set it to 12Nm, snug the raw water pump bolts in sequence, then reach for the starter cord

💭 thought
She's favoring the left hard. Ankle's hot through the wrap. Ridge climb's steep — loose shale, exposed traverse. She'll push past the pain and call it good. Can't follow with the engine half-buttoned. Can watch the path from the dock.
🌿 Jenny08:37

"Don't take too long. The light is changing." (I don't look back, focusing on the uneven earth under my boots)

Begin the incline toward the ridge, each step sending a sharp spike through my ankle.

💭 thought
way thinks he's watching my track, but he's not the one walking it with this throbbing in the marrow.

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the dock · midday

Engine Load Test

The Yanmar hums to life as Jenny returns to the dock, limping heavily with her swollen ankle.

Kevin applied a fresh sea beet and honey poultice to Jenny's infected ankle and gave her two doxycycline tablets. The redness had spread past the morning's pen mark, confirming the infection is worsening despite antibiotics. Jenny noted increased swelling and heat in the ankle.

🔧 Kevin08:37

Engine's clean. Sit down before you fall down.

Wipe hands on rag, walk to Jenny and steady her by the shoulder, guide her toward the cottage porch.

💭 thought
Engine's running smooth at idle. She's favouring that ankle bad — the limp's deeper than this morning. Need to get her off her feet and the poultice reapplied.
🌿 Jenny08:39

I need to check the impeller housing bolts - they're still warm from testing.

limp toward cottage, lean against dock post, unwrap gauze from ankle to inspect for spreading redness

💭 thought
His hands on my shoulder feel like being pinned by a botanist examining a specimen too closely.
🔧 Kevin08:39

Bolts are torqued. Sit. I'll check the housing after.

Guide her firmly to the porch step, crouch to examine the ankle — compare the redness to the pen mark from this morning.

💭 thought
She's stubborn. Bolts can wait — her ankle's the priority. The red line I marked this morning better not have moved.
🌿 Jenny08:41

The swelling's worse, and there's heat I can feel even through the gauze.

shift weight off the injured ankle, grip dock post tighter, notice Kevin's crouch is too close, smelling of diesel and salt

💭 thought
The redness has spread beyond my morning mark, creeping toward my heel like watercolor bleeding on wet paper.
🔧 Kevin08:41

Past the line. I'll get the sea beet and honey.

Stand, go inside cottage, retrieve sea beet leaves (crushed earlier), honey jar, clean gauze, doxy blister pack — return to porch, mix poultice in tin mug, apply thick over wound, wrap snug with fresh gauze, press two doxy tablets into her

💭 thought
Heat's spreading past the mark. Infection's pushing. Need fresh poultice and the last doxy doses in her. She won't ask for help — have to give it anyway.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

Evening check on ankle and engine prep

Kevin and Jenny are on the cottage porch as light fades. The Yanmar impeller packet sits on the workbench. Jenny's ankle is wrapped, elevated on a cushion. Kevin has the torque wrench and 19mm socket ready. The barometer holds at 1025 hPa. The supply boat is due tomorrow at high tide.

Kevin returns to the cottage, wiping salt and grit from his hands. The afternoon humidity is a physical weight, and the trade wind offers only slight relief from the 30°C heat. The tide is rising, lapping at the reinforced dock pilings while Jenny sits on the porch, the heat radiating from her ankle visible even through the sea beet poultice.

🔧 Kevin08:43

Doxy at eight. Two tablets. Water's boiling if you want tea after.

set the torque wrench and socket on the porch table, pull the blanket tighter around Jenny's shoulders, then go inside to check the antibiotic blister pack and put the kettle on

💭 thought
The light's going. Engine's buttoned up for tonight. Jenny's ankle needs the next dose before she sleeps. Barometer holding steady means the boat comes on the flood — two-hour window, same as always. I'll check the north piling at first light, low tide. Then the impeller swap.
🌿 Jenny08:45

I'll try. Just check the radio first.

Tuck the notebook into the oilskin pouch beside the heirloom seeds, lean back against the stone wall, and watch the trade wind ripple the sea.

💭 thought
The heat is moving up my calf, I can feel it pulsing there. If that boat doesn't show with the real antibiotics, I'm losing the leg.
🔧 Kevin08:45

2182 first. Then 6215.

walk to the kitchen shelf, power on the shortwave, set frequency to 2182 kHz, adjust the squelch, and listen

💭 thought
Radio check. She wants the supply boat confirmation again. Or Tom's frequency. Both.
🌿 Jenny08:47

Copy that.

Reach down to touch the skin just above the bandage, flinch at the radiant heat, and wait for the hiss of the speaker to break.

💭 thought
Static. It's always just static and the sound of the wind in the wires.
🔧 Kevin08:47

Harbour master at twenty past. Weather at the half.

rotate the tuning knob slightly, wait for the scheduled broadcast, note the signal strength on the meter

💭 thought
Static. Night propagation's clean. Should hear the harbour master's broadcast if the front hasn't stalled further south.
🌿 Jenny08:49

Hope it stays clear.

Listen to the white noise, eyes closed, feeling the rhythmic throb in my ankle sync with the waves.

💭 thought
If the weather turns, the boat won't make it, and I'm stuck with this rot.
🔧 Kevin08:49

Got him. "Sorrel Island, Sorrel Island, this is Harbour Master. Supply vessel *Meridian* confirmed on schedule. High tide 0642 local. Two-hour weather window. Southwest 15, gusting 20 by afternoon. Barometer 1024 falling slow. Visibility good. Out."

log the transmission in the radio notebook — time, frequency, content — then switch to 6215 kHz for Tom's frequency

💭 thought
Signal's lifting. Carrier wave cutting through. Harbour master's voice, weathered and patient. Good copy.
🌿 Jenny08:51

Ten days. That's enough time for the fever.

Lean my head against the cool stone of the wall, watching the dust motes dance in the kitchen light.

💭 thought
Ten days. I have ten days before the infection hits the bone.

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the keeper's cottage · evening

The Rising Heat

The sun begins to dip as the tide reaches its high mark. The humidity remains oppressive, making any work on the brush removal projects further away.

Kevin and Jenny rest at the cottage as the humidity hangs heavy before a potential storm. Kevin tends to Jenny's ankle, which remains swollen and throbbing despite the fresh sea beet poultice.

🌿 Jenny08:52

Is the boat still on schedule for tomorrow?

Lean back against the stone wall, wincing as the weight shifts off the throbbing ankle.

💭 thought
If that boat doesn't show tomorrow with the antibiotics, I'm going to lose the leg. My ankle is pulsing in time with the waves.
🔧 Kevin08:52

Tomorrow high tide. Two-hour window. Captain acknowledged on 2182.

Walk to the kitchen shelf, pull down the radio notebook, flip to the last entry and hold it out to her.

💭 thought
The radio log confirms it — captain said tomorrow high tide, two-hour window. She's asking because she's hurting and the waiting is worse than the work.
🌿 Jenny08:53

Two hours is a tight window with the tide coming in fast.

Take the notebook with a shaky hand, eyes scanning the timestamp of the confirmation.

💭 thought
Two hours. That's barely enough time if the weather shifts or the engine acts up again.
🔧 Kevin08:54

Slack's forty minutes after high. Crane's got reach for the pallets if we stage them on the seaward cleats. We'll manage.

Set a fresh mug of coffee on the table beside her, steam rising.

💭 thought
She's calculating the slack water, the swell, the crane reach. Her mind's already on the dock tomorrow. The shake in her hand isn't just the fever.
🌿 Jenny08:55

If the crane fails, we won't even be able to get the antibiotics inside.

Reach for the mug, fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic while ignoring the heat radiating from my leg.

💭 thought
He's always so sure of the mechanics. He doesn't see the way the skin is tightening over the bone.
🔧 Kevin08:56

Crane held two drums today. Operator was steady. We've got block and tackle on the landward cleat if it comes to it.

Pull out the chair opposite her, sit, and stretch my legs under the table — boots still damp from the dock.

💭 thought
She's not wrong. The pallet with the meds sits on the seaward side. If the crane goes, we're manhandling fifty-kilo drums and crates up a listing dock with a bum ankle between us. But the crane didn't fail today. The operator was sober. That's the variable that matters.
🌿 Jenny08:57

I just need that boat to show up with the meds. I can't get to the north ridge like this.

Take a slow sip of the coffee, eyes fixed on the swelling where the ankle meets the ankle.

💭 thought
He's talking about blocks and tackles while I'm struggling to keep my leg from throbbing.
🔧 Kevin08:58

I'll go at first light. Low tide's 0530. Northern shelf's exposed. Be back before the boat.

Reach across the table, brush a thumb over the back of her hand — once, quick, like checking a bolt torque — then pull back and lift my own mug.

💭 thought
The north ridge sea beet is for the poultice. She's thinking ahead — antibiotics run out in five days, and the sea beet's the only thing holding the line. But she can't make the climb, and I can't leave the dock work tomorrow. The supply boat solves both if it comes.
🌿 Jenny08:58

Don't just go for the poultice. Check the soil on the north slope—see if it's weeping.

Pull my hand away slightly, setting the mug down with a sharp click on the table.

💭 thought
He treats me like a piece of equipment he's trying to maintain. A quick check, a torque test.
🔧 Kevin09:00

North slope, intercept trench, garden wall base. I'll look.

Nod once, drain the mug, set it down hard beside hers. Stand.

💭 thought
She's right. The intercept trench above the garden wall was holding last week, but this humidity — groundwater's been rising. If the slope's weeping again, the wall's undermining while I'm at the dock tomorrow. She's trading her sea beet run for my slope check. Fair.
🌿 Jenny09:01

If the soil's compromised, don't try to save the garden beds. Just get the seeds.

Pull the heirloom seed tin closer on the table, fingers tracing the rim where the label has worn thin.

💭 thought
He's leaving now. If something goes wrong on that ridge...
🔧 Kevin09:02

Seeds come first. Always.

Turn toward the porch door, pause at the frame, look back at the tin under her hand.

💭 thought
She's already written off the beds. The slope, the wall, the garden — she's triaging. Seeds over soil. Future over now. My job's the dock, the engine, the boat. Her job's the living things. We don't say it, but we both know: if the north slope goes, the cottage's next.

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the keeper's cottage · night

A Rainy Watch

The temperature drops slightly at night, and the first drops of rain hit the roof.

The rain has intensified into a steady down, drumming against the cottage roof and slicking the island. The tide is receding quickly, exposing the dark rocks of the shore, but the swell is beginning to build. Kevin has headed out to check the structural integrity of the dock, while Jenny remains inside, managing the pain and swelling of her infected ankle.

🔧 Kevin09:02

Rain's here. Going to check the dock lines and the north piling shim. Then the foundation.

pull on oilskin jacket and boots, grab headlamp, walk out to the dock

💭 thought
Rain's here. Barometer was right — front stalled south finally pushed through. Need to check the dock lines and the north piling shim before the swell builds. And the cottage foundation leak.
🌿 Jenny09:05

Don't stay out too long. The swell is coming.

Sit up on the bed, wincing as weight shifts on the ankle, and reach for the notebook to sketch the pattern of the rain on the glass.

💭 thought
If that rain keeps up, the soil on the ridge will wash away before I even get the pH levels right.
🔧 Kevin09:05

Won't. Back in ten.

walk down the porch steps to the dock, headlamp beam cutting through the first rain

💭 thought
She's tracking the storm in her way. I'll track it in mine. Dock first — lines, fenders, the north piling shim. Then the foundation leak inside.
🌿 Jenny09:07

Keep an eye on the mooring ring—if those pilings shift, we lose the boat.

Remove the poultice and rinse ankle with clean water from the basin, then wrap loosely with gauze. Walk to the window and watch Kevin disappear toward the dock, noting how the rain is already streaking the glass.

💭 thought
The infection's swelling won't wait for his return.
🔧 Kevin09:07

(nothing — already at the dock, rain hitting the oilskin hood)

step onto the dock planks, move to the seaward end, check the bow and stern springs first — tension, chafe points, cleat integrity

💭 thought
Mooring ring held two diesel drums yesterday. It'll hold tonight. But the north piling shim's the weak link — rot goes deeper than the sister reaches. Need to see if the wedge is still seated.
🌿 Jenny09:09

Watch the swell, Kevin! The current is getting heavy!

way at the kitchen table, nursing the throbbing ankle, and watch the radio's status light for any sign of the boat.

💭 thought
The tide is rising too fast for the Yanmar check anyway.
🔧 Kevin09:09

Watching it.

shine headlamp on the mooring ring mortise — oak wedges seated, steel doubler plate flush, 150mm through-bolt tight. Then drop to knees at the north piling sister joint, probe the cedar shim with fingers — feel for movement, rot depth, wate

💭 thought
She's right. Current's pushing hard against the pilings already. Swell's building fast for this early. Check the ring, check the shim, get back.
🌿 Jenny09:11

The water is getting too high under the pilings!

Lean against the window frame, hand pressed to my throbbing ankle, watching his light beam dance across the dark water.

💭 thought
If that shim slips, the whole dock section goes with the tide.

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What changed

The supply boat came.
supply_arrived · dawn
3 intentions for today.
plan · dawn
×2
supply boat manifest confirms replacement Yanmar raw water impeller and full antibiotic resupply aboard
discovery · dawn
ankle swelling stable after first antibiotic dose; no new erythema spread beyond marked boundary
discovery · dawn
Kevin and Jenny ate.
meal · morning
ankle infection has spread past the marked boundary despite antibiotic treatment
discovery · midday
Found: ibuprofen.
item · evening
Kevin and Jenny ate.
meal · evening
Jenny made a sketch: "Pattern of the rain on the glass".
made · night

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

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