"Trust letter contents, Day 964

Trust letter contents, Day 964 The boat's gone. Properly gone. Storm took the mooring clean off the bedrock three nights back. Found the bow cleat washed up at Miller's Cove, forty clicks south. Rest of her is fish habitat now. Radio's still working. Picked up a French naval broadcast two nights ago — routine traffic, nothing for us. Battery bank's down to three cells holding charge. Solar array took a tree limb last winter; been nursing what's left. Food: forty days if we stretch. Less if the generator packs up. Diesel's at two hundred litres, contaminated with water from the cracked tank. I can clean it slow through the separator, but the pump's bearings are singing their death song. Got a spare shaft in the workshop, no bearings. Been machining bushings from the old propeller shaft bronze. Three days work, maybe four. Jenny's not sleeping. Walks the perimeter at night with the headlamp off. Says she hears the boat's engine still running. I hear it too, some nights — that particular vibration in the chest cavity. Phantom diesel. Tom would know what to do. He always did. Not sending this. No one to send it to.