Stick with John for now.

The creaking wreckage of the ship lay limp in the surf. The Lucky Ducky had been a two-masted schooner close to three times older than you with countless repairs, fraying lines, peeling paint and a finicky diesel that failed to start as often as it worked. In spite of her age, if it had not been for the unexpected coral shoals you are confident that with her sails tightly reefed the ship would have weathered the vicious storm, and in a way, it is as sad to see the old girl stranded on the reef as it was to see the fresh graves along the tree line.

The stern of the schooner is completely destroyed. The radio, engine room, captain's quarters as well as the ship's boat are all gone ... and the bow end is starting to creak and splinter as the waves twist it mercilessly. The first priority is to see if there are any survivors still aboard the Ducky. The swim out to the listing boat is actually refreshing and you see dozens of fish that dart away from you in the clear water between the reef and the beach. You climb carefully onto the deck hoping for the best and expecting worst but find the boat completely abandoned.

A wave rocks the wreckage badly and you set to work salvaging whatever you can find. Soon there is a small pile on the fore deck. A life-ring and hand axe, a flare gun with two flares all soaked with saltwater. In the passenger cabins are some abandoned suitcases and a Rolex that is probably worth more than a year's salary for you. In the small foremost cabin, you find a Mormon bible whose leather cover is worn with use and a small black suitcase that had several sundresses and women's undergarments. You shake your head sadly as you vaguely remember last seeing the young woman in the storm, her long cotton nightgown plastered to her body like a second skin. Someone must have dragged her from her cabin without even giving her a chance to get dressed because she would never have gone out like that on her own. Did she make it to the ship's boat? It seems so unfair that someone as earnest and sweet as Jasmine could have her life cut short like this.

From the galley you collect three sharp knives, some pots and a frying pan along with the few remaining cans of beans and beef stew that seemed to be the ship's menu for most meals. Sadly, all three potable water containers are missing as are the bins that held the oats, rice and beans. With the galley items stowed in a canvas bag added to the pile of luggage along with several coils of rope there is little left onboard to salvage and using the life ring as a makeshift raft you slowly tow the goodies back to the shore.

After collecting what you could from the schooner, you turn your attention to the supplies that litter the beach and remembering Amala's strict order you start hauling anything that moves up out of the surf before the tide turns and everything is washed away. Bobbing in the waves is the red insulated water cooler that the crew drank from with maybe a couple liters of fresh water sloshing around in the bottom. A ten-foot boat hook is another pleasant find as well as a few articles of clothing and one worn sneaker. Other than those items most of what you find washed up on the beach are planks and rigging from the wrecked boat. The jib with its long sheet still attached was almost intact unlike the mainsail that had been ripped to shreds on the sharp coral.

The captain's wife isn't back yet, but in an effort to impress Amala, you erect a tent on the beach with the sail from the schooner and the boat hook as a tent post. It takes a while to get the ropes rigged right and even longer to pile sand along the sides to hold the down the material, but you are pretty happy with the results. It looks like a cozy spot to spend the night.

By the time you are done, sitting in the late afternoon shade and chewing on some coconut you are becoming more and more worried about your only companion. The idea that something happened to her makes you kick at the sand angrily and conclude you should have insisted on sticking together so you could protect her. Thinking back to your last conversation you wonder what you could have said to influence that confident woman in any way. It is another twenty minutes later when you see her trudging towards you dragging a makeshift sled.