Stranded! (10 page)

Marshall gripped her hand tightly as they walked, almost too tight, but she was not complaining. When they got back to the hut she had him undress completely and then she took water from one of the larger water jugs and poured it over his head. He gave her a surprised look before throwing back his head and allowing some of the water into his mouth.
"More." He said and she gave him the pot to drink from as she poured water over his nude body from a different jug. When he was completely wet she had him lay down in his hammock. Marshall groaned in pleasure at the feel of it. For weeks on end he'd been sleeping on an unyielding ground. Right now he could have been floating in a cloud. Oceans grabbed a big palm leaf and began fanning him. Marshall's eyes fluttered shut at how wonderful it felt. He was really tired but he didn't want to sleep. He wanted to stare at Oceans and find out where she'd gone.
"Baby..." He murmured sleepily.
He felt Oceans grip his hand and pull it to her body. His palm was laid flat against the front of her sundress, the flesh beneath it was just beginning to round slightly. Marshall opened his eyes and glanced down in confusion. He was touching Ocean's belly and it was full and round. He met her eyes and saw them twinkling.
"Marshall, you can't die of a sunstroke. You have to be here to see your baby born."
His mouth was still hanging open. "Am I dreaming?" Oceans leaned forward and placed her lips on his. Her lips parted and her tongue gingerly touched his. Marshall tried to sit up but it was too difficult form his position, or because he was weak and powerless in that moment.
Oceans broke the kiss and stepped back so that he could see where she had smoothed the front of her dress over her belly.
Marshall was blinking. She was pregnant.
"But..."
"They say that one can have an abortion using plants and herbs...but it won't take if your womb is very strong. I guess my womb was too strong."
Marshall climbed from the hammock, not very gracefully as he was out of practice. He placed both hands on the place where his baby grew within the woman he loved. He looked deep into Oceans' eyes.
"Is—is the baby ok?"
"I feel him move, or her."
Marshall sighed. "Okay." He closed his eyes momentarily, still gently touching her belly. "We're at four and a half months, right?" Oceans nodded. He leaned down and kissed her before climbing back into the hammock. "Make me better Oceans. So I can take care of you and the baby."
Oceans took care of Marshall, keeping him in the hammock and hydrated. She spent most of her time there in her own hammock watching him sleep or talking to him when he awoke.
"Why couldn't I find you?" He murmured, just coming up from a restless sleep where he'd dreamt of skulls and wrecked ships. He hadn't mentioned the slave ship yet, or anything else about their 72 days apart.
"I went to the other side of the Island."
"Did you cut through the forest?"
"Yes." Marshall laughed. He laughed until tears streamed down the sides of his face. Oceans watched him like he was a mad man. "What, Marshall? Let me in on the joke?"
"Oh, nothing." He brought his laughter under control. "I just decided to walk around the entire Island."
Her mouth dropped. "You walked around the entire Island?"
He nodded. "How long did it take you to break through to the other side?"
"About a week. "I was back here in little less than two weeks." When she had returned to camp, she saw that he'd left. By that time she knew that she was pregnant. It was the nausea, the sleepiness, the sore breasts, and the fact that her period was very very late. She understood that the abortion hadn't taken and was anxious to get back and share the news with Marshall. She hoped that he would forgive her.
And when he wasn't there she figured he'd gone in search for her. But then the days turned into weeks and he still hadn't returned. Her mind began to find reasons; like maybe he hated her and was setting up another camp, or maybe he'd found a way off the Island and had left her there as punishment for attempting to abort their baby. But that was stupid. He wouldn't do that. She had tried very hard not to think the last option, which is that he might not be back because he was dead.
For the last few weeks Oceans was a nervous wreck. She went through her daily routine in a robotic state, trying to keep busy and hoping that the next day would bring him home. At night she cried and thought about her baby. If Marshall died, then their child would be the only thing that she would have of him. Then she was haunted by the thought that she had almost killed the last link she had to him.

It was her baby that kept her sane these last few weeks. And as he/or she began to grow and move she knew that Marshall was still here and would always be here inside of their baby. It was those thoughts that convinced her that he was not coming back.
She felt his fingers gently clasp her hand and hold it as they rocked in their own individual hammocks.
She looked at him curiously. "What happened to you? What did you see out there?" She glanced at the slices on his arms. "What did you do?"
He licked his lips and told her the story. At first he was matter-of-fact, repeating it as if he was a newscaster, speaking of events that weren't his own. But then he couldn't keep the passion from his voice, and he began describing the events as if they were happening all over again.
"You walked that many hours? No wonder you're sick, honey. But two months? You could have walked the Island twice."
"I did check the forest for you too. I think that deep down I knew that I might miss you. There were just too many possibilities for me not to see you or you to see me. But I kept at it." She gave his hand a quick squeeze.
"And there is no hidden resort I guess?" She joked. Marshall's eyes flicked away. But she caught it. "What? There isn't is there?"
"No. There aren't any other people...no resort."
She chuckled. "Okay, you had me scared there for a moment."
He looked at her closely. "I found something though." He described the events of finding and then exploring the slave ship. When he was done, Oceans remained quiet.
"I want to see it." She finally said.
He waited a few moments. "Okay."
***
Marshall needed two days of rest before he felt like himself again. Their relationship had shifted into another realm. She spent her spare time in the hut resting with him and they talked and held hands. There was no anxious, frantic need to grope at the other. The feeling of passion that one got from the act of sex led to a peace and well being that they had with each other, without the sex.
When he did leave the hut to lay on his mat under the shade of the trees, he was content to watch Oceans as she worked on making the bammie, or she to watch him as he stoked the fire and retrieved the roasted cassava from the ash.
Then it was time for him to return to his life on the Island and his old, yet comfortable routine. But before they could, he had to make plans to do something that he didn't want to ever do again, and that was to return to the slave ship.

~8 Month, 22 days~
They started their journey to the slave ship when the sky was still black. It didn't matter that it was more than an hour before dawn. They were wide awake and ready to begin. For Marshall he just wanted it over with. Oceans needed to see that this Island had contained something more than them. She also needed to be a witness to the suffering of the slaves that had met such a horrible end in this place.
She carried her water jug slung across her shoulder on a piece of man-made rope. She also carried a spear, taller than she was, and deadly sharp. She knew, as she'd seen Marshall throw it and spear a meer rat. It had split the large rodent in two.
He too had a spear, their pack, and his water jug and yet he still reached out to clasp her hand. She looked at him with a smile. There had not been any intimacy between them since his return. Marshall often kissed her hand or kissed her belly, but showed no interest in doing anything more. Oceans was just happy to have her man home.
The couple kept close to the water while it was dark and then began moving closer to the forest's edge as the sun rose. By mid-morning, they reached the site of their previous camp. Many months ago, Marshall had put together a nice hut, but it had collapsed over time. Still, it was a perfect place to rest and have a meal. While they ate bammy smeared with mashed fruit, Oceans leaned back against Marshall's chest and he cradled her in his arms.
He took a deep breath. "What do you think we should name the baby?" His voice was tentative. He'd been thinking about this for some time but wasn't sure if it was too soon to talk about such things.
After a moment she shrugged. "I don't know. Do you have any names in mind?" She looked up at him when he took a while to answer.
"Yes." He finally answered. "I'd like our son or daughter to have the last name Cohen. I'd also like his mother to have the same last name; my last name."
Oceans looked up quickly and then moved out of his arms to watch him fully.
"Are you asking me--?"
"I'm asking you to marry me." He finished. Oceans didn't say anything and Marshall felt himself begin to panic. "I'm not asking you this because you're pregnant, or because you're the only other woman on this Island. I'm asking you to have my last name because..." He looked at the distant Ocean; the one that made him understand why this woman's father had given her such a wondrous name. And then he looked into the eyes of HIS Oceans; the woman that he was in love with. "I can't see myself being remotely sane without you. It doesn't matter to me if I'm standing in the middle of Time Square and there are a thousand people surrounding me. I love you whether we make it back home, or whether we stay on this Island. I need you Oceans Delano."
Oceans sighed. That was what she had needed to hear. She snuggled back into Marshall's arms. "Oceans Cohen...Oceans Louisa Mae Cohen." She tested her new name, a giddy smile on her face.
"Louisa Mae..." Marshall chuckled and then gulped it down when Oceans jabbed him lightly in the ribs with her elbow.
***
They continued their journey, reaching the site of where they had first washed ashore by mid afternoon. They had returned to this place many times, yet it never ceased to cause Oceans to experience a surreal moment or two. She stood at the water's edge and stared at the endless sea.
"Eight months, twenty-two days..."
Marshall was wiping away the sand from the reflective metallic pieces. They formed an arrow that pointed towards their camp...but for whom? Who would ever see the makeshift arrow? And furthermore, some pieces here could be very useful to them back at camp. He looked up and watched her and the way the breeze whipped back her sundress and the way the cloth was snug over her belly. Marshall's brow knitted. Later, before the baby was to be born he would return to this spot and collect the rest of the wreckage. He needed to do whatever he had to do to make their NOW as comfortable as possible.
A slave ship had set on this Island for hundreds of years and not one person had ever seen it but him. No one was coming to this Island to save them.
The two continued on their journey. With their frequent rest breaks, it was dark before they finally caught sight of the broken down ship in the distance. Marshall insisted that they make camp and even though Oceans was excited, she agreed that it was best to make a fresh start bright and early the next morning.
Before the sun had risen, Oceans was awake and preparing the last of the bammy that she had packed for their journey. She insisted that they eat while they walked and Marshall did not object. He was unusually quiet but Oceans did not mind. She too had a mixture of emotions about this journey. The fact that there had been others here, gave her a sense of relief that she and Marshall were not the only ones to know what it was to be stranded on this Island. However, the knowledge that those very same people had never gotten to see the Caribbean sun shine down on them made her feel angry and even more powerless. Reconciling these two very different emotions was difficult.
When she was finally standing mere feet from the wreckage, Oceans reached out her fingers and touched the weathered wood. This is the wood that had enclosed the humans that had been hauled from continent to continent for the purpose of enslavement. While she reflected on this, Marshall undid the bedroll and pulled from it the two torches that he had made the day before. He tossed them onto the deck and waited, making sure that they did not roll off the edge before walking over to the silent woman.
"Are you okay?" She pulled herself from her imaginings and nodded firmly. His eyes lingered on her before he circled back around to the broken end of the ship. After a running start he leaped and grasped the decking overhead, pulling himself up and over. This time it was much easier as he was no longer suffering from heat exhaustion, yet he still wasn't back to his full strength and his muscles quivered and strained. He hurried to the broken mast and rolled the heavy wood until one end fell off the edge and landed onto the sand below. They had already planned this and the wooden pole landed perfectly for Oceans to shimmy up its length.
As she did this, she could not help but to think that in about 2 more months she would be much too big for this type of thing. Marshall hung on to the end that leaned against the deck, a look of worry on his face. He could picture her falling off...
But she didn't and he grabbed her and pulled her onto the deck even though she could have done it herself.
She chuckled at the hold he had on her. "Honey, I'm an Island girl. I knew how to climb a tree almost as soon as I knew how to walk!" She was more concerned about the small rip that she had made in her dress. She had no sewing kit to repair tears and once her clothes were shredded there would be no more forthcoming.
Marshall located the torches and lit them carefully, handing one to Oceans. She took a few moments to walk from one end to the other, examining things that he hadn't bothered to look at the first time. He joined her but other than for firewood, nothing on deck was usable.
After coming up from the cargo hold days before, he had not bothered to replace the lid and so was able to climb down quickly in order to light the stairwell for Oceans. When she had come safely down the first stairwell, he moved towards the second set of stairs but Oceans stopped him.
"No, just me."
"Are you sure?" He frowned. She moved past the second broken hatch door, and down the narrow stairwell until her feet touched the floor. She wasn't as tall as Marshall and still her head didn't clear the ceiling. She ducked and carefully used the torch to illuminate the hold, making sure that the actual flame was kept in the stairwell. She feared that if she actually brought it down into the cargo it might touch the ceiling and the ship would go up like a tinderbox! As her eyes adjusted and took in the sight before her, she thought that burning up this place might not be such a bad idea--only not with her and Marshall trapped inside.
Marshall had described what she'd see but nothing could have prepared her for this. The many iron manacles didn't even look like metal. They were calcified to such a degree that she would not have guessed what they were if not for the many skulls that appeared to topple from them.
Her head popped back up into the hatch and she handed the torch to Marshall.
"Hold this. I'm going in."
He wanted to object but didn't know how. Instead, he just reached for the torch, stooping down so that he could illuminate the hold for her. He had not wanted to look at the skeletons again and so kept his eyes glued to her stooped form. Oceans moved forward through a small aisle that separated the two sides of the ship. It was a long aisle to walk in a stooped position. Being buried in the sand had evidently protected this lower portion from breaking away and being carried out to sea as the upper deck had.
There were lanterns on the walls, but no oil in them. Also there were no windows. As she stepped carefully through the skeletons, careful not to step on the human remains, she took note of each person; each child, each man and each woman. When she reached the end she turned back to Marshall.
"There is an iron grate here. It leads to the lower level."
"Come back, Oceans!" He spoke in alarm. "I'll go down!"
"I'm not going down." She spoke, trying to see down into the black depths. "I can't see down there, it's too dark. I need the torch."
"Uhm..." He hesitated, but then dropped down into the hold, crouching low. He held the torches inches from the floor so that the flame was not in jeopardy of touching the low wood ceiling. His skin prickled as he walked down the aisle between the two rows of broken skeletons and yet at the same time felt sweat dripping into his eyes and plastering his clothes. It was hard to breath in the dark place, as if this were his coffin.
"Can you lift the grate?" Oceans asked, taking the torches from him. Marshall dropped to his knees, now curious about what could be below. He was afraid too, for some strange reason. Perhaps the ghosts of the past would attack the only living white man. But that was stupid, and there couldn't possibly be anything worse down there.
He hooked his fingers into the grating and pulled. It didn't budge. It was a few moments before he realized that there was a latch, keeping it closed. With a well placed kick, he dislodged it and easily pulled up the grating. It creaked but had not frozen in place.
Now there was another set of stairs.
"Let me go down." Oceans requested.
"Hell no." Was his response. He took one of the torches from her and crept down into the lower hatch. Wow, he thought. This is bigger. His head had cleared the ceiling and he still hadn't reached the floor below. When it finally did, he felt the bile rise in his throat. The floor was wet. His sneaker clad feet was ankle deep in cold water.
Dangerous. That meant the floor could be rotted. He moved the torch forward in order to light this lower hold. Oceans was coming down as well and he looked up at her long enough to caution her to stay on the stairs because of the wetness.
"What do you see?" She asked. She couldn't get down the stairwell far enough with Marshall blocking her. She suddenly saw his light eyes staring up at her. His face was very pale in the dark despite his tan.
"Bones."
She sighed. "Anything else?"
"Not human bones." He disappeared into the hold, creeping forward and Oceans was able to climb down lower being careful to keep clear of the stagnant water. It was hard to see, even with the two torches.
Marshall was stooped, examining something that gleamed in the darkness. He turned to her.
"I think these are pig bones."
"Ahhh." Was her slow response. Then she could see the bones that floated atop the murky water. Some pigs had escaped the wrecked ship, but not the slaves...
Marshall made a strangled sound and then she saw him dart down the long aisle of the ship, water splashing in his wake. He was running towards something, not away from it but it still alarmed her. He reached out and grasped something that had been hanging on the far wall. She couldn't tell what it was but he took a few moments to light the far end of the ship before returning to her.
In his hand was a machete.
Neither felt the need to linger any longer and quickly climbed from the depths of the ship, continuing until they finally reached the light of the sun. By unspoken agreement, neither even wanted to take a moment to rest on deck. Marshall flung the torches out to sea and then dropped down to the sand. Oceans dropped down into his arms, not for a moment concerned that he wouldn't catch her.
After placing her back onto her feet, Marshall immediately walked into the sea until he was submerged to his calves. He needed to rid himself of the feel of the slime from the lower hold within the cleansing tide of the ocean.
"Baby, are you okay?" He asked when he looked back and saw her sitting on the sand.
She nodded but her color was off. He hurried to her, kneeling beside her. Suddenly she turned her head and vomited.
"Better?" He asked after a moment. She nodded. When she was ready to stand they moved down the beach at a quick pace, wishing to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the wreck.
"Do you want to rest?" He asked thirty minutes later.
"No." She was setting the fast pace. "Let's get home tonight. I don't want to sleep out here." Marshall nodded. It meant that he didn't have an opportunity to examine the machete. It was rusted but still in good condition. He kept it gripped in his hands loving the weight of it. With it, there was so much they could do...with it, he felt comfortable going out and hunting one of the larger wild boars. They needed more fat in order to make more soap, and some pork would be a welcome addition to their diet. Also the hide of the pig could be used for the baby, to line the cradle. The prickly hair could make a needle. There was so much that a large wild boar could afford them. Life could be a little easier on the Island.