New Homeport Island

by Robert Lyon

  It’ll be okay, then they’ll rescue us and we never set to sea again. We’ll move to the desert.” Monica interjected, “Not the desert…a lake”

  Hauldbalm was doing his ghost bit again, stumbling around tripping in the sand and Charlie Mcree took pity on him taking him by the arm and guiding him to the shade saying, “C’mon master chief” Hauldbalm asked with a dry high pitched raspy voice, “Any chance of milk in those things?” Charlie smacked his butt and said, “Not yet.” Hauldbalm laughed but sounded as though he were coughing up his dying breath. Dave Artimus one time captain of a destroyer and now the senior officer of a beach collapsed near a young mess specialist and asked, “What’s for lunch?” MS3 Wildly ran his fingers through his blonde hair and said in a hush, “There’s the choice of boot leather or seaman recruit.” Dave put his arm around Robert Wildly and whispered right against his cheek, “Don’t even joke about that.” A chill shot down Wildly’s back.

  Mitch Hackel was with the gym room crowd, Tinnel,

  Washam, Candelia, and Nuema was sticking close to them as well. They decided to dig a trench to filter the water through the sand, once they started digging Hudlow further down the beach also started digging saying, “Mine doesn’t need a mote it’ll be bigger with a tower.” FC1 Forester figured ‘what the hell, why not’ and joined Hudlow making sand castles.

  As Hudlow dug he suddenly yelled out, “uh, uh huh…ooow ooow!” James Hudlow had made a discovery…it was a sand spider. He stumbled around scratching at his buzz cut

  hair kicking sand and uttering bizarre sounds. Forester had been bent over making his sand castle, he stood up and pushed his glasses up to his face and looked on in astonishment. As Hudlow continued the sandy beach version of the ‘I saw a spider and am freaked out’ dance, Forester looked around to see if anyone else had a reaction and no one did. So, forester shook his head and went back to building a sand castle calling over to Hudlow, “I think mine will have a mote.” Hudlow hoped around on one foot and then the other losing his balance but managed to reply,

  “Mine too.”

  Tammy Melad saw the sand castle endeavors and the trench and she was staying close to Michele Syre. Michele was sweet and tammy was coy they were a perfect tease when it came to the older guys, they had given up their tee-shirts for the attempt to reduce the salt content by using them as Drinking cloth and they only had a couple of buttons done on their dungaree shirts. They were supple young women, both blonde and buxom, they considered tearing there dungaree pants down to shorts and the guys were tempted to just let them, but there was no telling what weather they may need to endure or when rescue might occur; so they rolled up the bottom of their pant legs to about knee height. They strolled down the beach fleeing leering looks and keeping distracted by talking about music and movies.

  Athena Williams was also quite the looker she stuck close to Amber Alley. They had also surrendered their tee-shirts, but instead of rolling up there pant legs the hiked up their shirts and tied off the tails, their shirts would fall open in the front revealing their bra’s but it was a warm pleasant beach and everyone was conserving energy, perhaps only until the next

  night of hide and seek which up until now had been a search for a sense of security from a trusted shipmate…turned ship wreck.

  It was Tammy and Michele that had set the mood with their stroll and it moved through the survivors like an electric pulse.

  The men started gathering soft plant materials for beds and were shooting grins at the women as they made their nests, this was true of all of them with the exception of most of the married men. Athena shouted over to someone that had glanced her way,

  “You guys are getting’ any!” Amber added, “We can make beds ourselves…you want to see something, then start a damn fire!”

  The heat exhaustion had taken its toll so most of the guys just sort of fell back on their beddings. EM3 Eric Hubart laughed and called out, “It’s too hot we’ll get it going after the sun starts to set.” Amber pushed up on her breasts and did a twisting motion at the hips as she sat there next to Athena and said,

  “Okay…no fire, no play.”

  Michele strolled over to amber and asked, “Are you really whoring us out for fire?” Amber replied, “It’s just a motivator, their near dead from heat exhaustion anyways.” Linda Hays was laying on her back with a palm branch over her face and interjected, “Dehydration, this is dehydration.” Amber looked over concerned for Linda and said, “Okay, that then.”

  It was somewhere between two and three in the afternoon my watch was a casio databank watch and despite my love of it, it had succumbed to the depths when the great whale Paul f

  Foster found her resting place, and it was just as full of water as were our lighters. I had set the top of the boilers on and checked it for a good mating seal, it was far from perfect. I used handfuls of sand to grind down the imperfections until I had a reasonable match. I considered joining the two halves with clay but thankfully came to my senses I still needed to be able to put the

  sea water in it and clean out residual salt afterward, I figured I could make a lip for one or the other halves but my need for fresh water was urgent. I checked the deep cups and vases I made and decided they were well enough. I choose the most misshapen of the vases to carry sea water to the boiler, I made sure the vent openings in the firebox were clear and making a bellows out of paper to stoke the firebox would have to wait.

  The spackle on the fire box seemed dry and the small opening I left to insert wood was unobstructed; I had an extra brick I should have given a handle to, to block off the wood opening. I inserted the tinder and wood and added more tinder on top. Then

  I took the vase I selected and fetched some sea water, it was low tide so I was only slightly battered by trying to carry a vase into and then out of the surf. I made two trips and all the liquid was held by the boiler and vase without any leakage or softening of the clay. The fire in the trench was low and had smoldering edges, I strung dry grass around a stick and used it to carry the fire over to the boiler and lite the firebox wood. The air flow seemed insufficient so I tapped at the vent port I had left in the lower side, yet another problem to deal with after I had fresh water.

  I sat watching the fire kneeled down with my face nearly to the ground, peering in. The flame was catching well and spreading through the wood but there was no sizzle or popping yet, I sat watching. They say a watched pot never boils I guess

  I’d find out. I placed the vase to receive fresh water at the base of the nozzle propped up on some wood. Then I sat back and hoped for the best watching the flicker of flame in the box.

  I knew there would be next to no pressure and shaped the bowl so that the water should boil quickly, if I could just get it to steam I would know what I was working with. So heeding the

  old parable I listened for the popping and sizzling in the wood to start that would reassure me the fire had taken hold and would not be smothered by the now growing smoke, I ventured up the hillside to the peak again. The smoke was carried out well by the vent holes and it was a light smoke at that, though not visible for very long its smell was reminiscent of the smell of sandal wood incense. The peak of the hill that appeared to be a mountain from certain viewpoints felt as though it were under a magnifying glass under the sun, the water reflected the sun light, there were only a few clouds and it couldn’t be any later than three p.m. I scanned the horizon and skies for ships or aircraft and there was nothing, not even a high altitude passing commercial air craft.

  Chief Brosuer walked up to master chief Hauldbalm and

  STG2 Mcree and said, “Him really?” Charlie Mcree looked at him odd and said, “Well he’s older, but he’ll be alright.” Brosuer scoffed with a hiss and Hauldbalm said, “She has no idea what you mean, and I better not have the right idea.” Brosuer scratched his head and asked Mcree, “Do you like long romantic walks on the beach?” and he smiled. Charlie smiled back and then realizing what he originally meant turned pale and said,


  “Oh…I wasn’t…he and I aren’t…ah” and then giggled Brosuer said, “I’ll let you think about it.” then stumbled off and fell flat on his face in the sand which appeared to be a melodramatic performance. Mcree stretched her neck to see if he was still alive. Hauldbalm asked, “Is he okay?” she responded,

  “umm…He still breathing.”

  Atrisia was standing in the surf to cool off, with little water in their systems their sensitivity to heat had increased; it may have been as hot as eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit. She walked up as the crashing waves came in and then standing in the wet

  sand, watched and felt the water recedding pulling sand over her toes, up the arch of her foot and cradling her heels. She wiggled her toes revealing them from beneath the sand exposing her

  French pedicured nails, she arched her back and deeply inhaled, stretching her arms then running them through her tight curly blonde hair, and with a couple of twisting movements to relax her lower back she noticed everyone was watching her and she blushed, with that blush Ebony Allick sitting about twenty yards away let out a soft moan, it was then that Atrisia realized they were stranded on an island for god knows how long with only the clothes they were wearing and she was wearing Tweety bird panties.

  Scott Tinnel noticed the trend so he took his coveralls down to his waist tying them off with the sleeves; he had already given up his tee-shirt as well to the pile of drinking cloths. Scott walked out to the water and took a couple of handfuls and slowly caressed his well sculpted abs and putting both his hands behind his head, he flexed his biceps and leaned back throwing his legs further apart and also did a twisting motion loosening his lower back. Charlie Mcree seeing this started drooling, which was a remarkable accomplishment amongst so many dehydrated sailors, cast a shore in whereabouts unknown.

  Becky Clarkson and Joanna Spayner had joined the corpsman lying under a palm tree with a palm over their faces.

  They had taken off their shoes and socks to dry and there was a definite odor, they had hiked up their pant legs and loosened their belts slipping their pants down slightly and I pulled up their shirts, they did still have their tee-shirts and Becky hadn’t shaved her legs in a week. The sight of that reminded many of the women another thing that was in store for them. Atrisia had gone over to the pentagon to check for progress as if there would

  be a computer or console of some kind she could check, once there she starred at the wood pile trying to figure out how to lite a fire. Ebony was laying on her stomach twisted at the hip and now looking at Ensign Clarkson’s hairy legs and letting out an occasional, “uh huh” with a slight laugh to it.

  As it grow later a cool humidity moved over the island and we were relieved of our nagging thirst though still in need of water. It was a sudden change and many of the plants visibly perked up, some flower blooms a yellow orchid looking ‘thing’ opened all a crossed the island, and a floral scent wafted over us all. There were only a few streakes of white clouds in the sky of the stratus type, no real danger of rain. Between the sudden moisture alerting the former crew to the need to be able to catch rain water and the fresh floral scent causing them to inhaled deeply through the nose leading them to the discovery of body odor, they started milling about all on the same task but in total silence. They needed to catch any rain water.

  I stood up on the hilltop and uttered, “Cistern” We needed a cistern to hold the purified water and catch rain water that would prevent contamination, we didn’t need any parasites. I wandered back down to the boiler, and there it was about two cups of fresh water in the vase, it dripped down as condensate. I used a small reed that had aged and hollowed as a straw and drank some, no salt taste at all! I had started this project away from the others to avoid embarrassment should it fail, now I had to make sure it was going to stay reliable and make sure the water in the boiling bowl was completely evaporated or at least mostly. It seemed to be near five O’clock and I was tired of all this guessing, I needed a sun dial, a compass, a shelter, and three more boilers to cover water rations for the ‘ship wrecks’, I also needed a fishing

  net and spear and at least a fallen tree to fish from, and there was one last thing I needed…a damn rescue plane or ship.

  Chapter Five

  ‘Jupiter’ the rise of Chaos

  Without a foreseeable rescue and with no reasonable expectation of rescue we knew we were trapped, fated to be consumed into the life cycle of this island. Hope was neither lost nor discovered it just wasn’t considered.

  Artimus stood starring into the turbulence of the sea and saw utter chaos; he had lost control of everything, all the platitudes and gratuities were now hollow and meaningless this was his summation; this abject failure was his mantle. They had flattered him so often he came to expect it, the respect he demanded from men working in the trenches, no longer deserved…he had betrayed everything and everyone with his failure. He stood being deafened by the crashing waves trying to find a way out of the disgrace that found him. His crew took their chances just like everyone else but visions of his wife led to visions of their families, wives, children, and worse their parents. From his dehydration and fatigue images that were absurd sprung forth, the Forestall fire and its captain, the

  Thresher and its captain, the Challenger and the seven astronauts lost because an O-ring failed.

  Mr. Mormus was his only peer; the master chief was actually significantly older and had more scars. Mormus had passed out over an hour ago, and by Captain Artimus’s reasoning would not live to see the morning. As the sunset he was haunted by an image in the corner of his eye, bodies wrapped in sea weed washed ashore. But all the crew had survived, who were they? Was it a vision of the future? He was afraid to look, he was educated and knew it was possible to hallucinate such things under these conditions, but he also knew it were possible to be so delirious that the shock of the sight of such a thing could block out the ability to recognize what he was looking at. He could assess himself, he could barely breath. He could only stand there lost in despair and continue to will his heart to beat.

  Hauldbalm had allowed his age to meter his efforts and despite being older and of a slender build he was still well, the older officers were at a critical point of age, they did not slow themselves down having experienced a degree of frailty, they pushed on well past the safe limits of their bodies. For the master chief just having gone to sleep helped slowdown his system and helped him endure, nothing had been accomplished and yet a potentially fatal over exertion had occurred for

  Mormus and Artimus, not exactly the poetic meaning of wisdom but a very real meaning none the less.

  As the sun started to set Forester and Hudlow were safely tucked into their sand castles which had dry motes. The captain strolled back to the pentagon and measure off lines to build some walls, so he would not be thought to have witnessed behaviors forcing him to interject himself or to be seen as

  condoning the behaviors. Athena Williams and Amber Alley lay buried in the sand wiggling their toes and playing I-spy. Ens.

  Swishzel was treading water just beyond the crashing waves and

  Ens. Lees was struggling to make a cross tying two sticks together with twine he had had from grass. Hauldbalm had played the old man role and rolled over lying next to Charlie

  Mcree resting his hand on her breast ‘accidentally’ pretending to be asleep, Charlie reassured herself by saying, “At least I’m not a chubby chaser.” Haydel was sticking close to the survivors of her shop, the only girl surrounded by guys. Monica Villa had staked her territory with Francesco and they were waiting for

  ‘what goes bump in the night’. Atrisia was trying to figure out how to conceal the cartoon character on her panties, while

  Jeremy Washam, Mitch Hackel, and Scott Tinnel, all lay peeking through squinted eye lids to watch. Scott Strut and

  Chris Gillis were driving themselves hoarse in the voice with an unending argument about who was supposed to pump out the bilge. Elpers, Gruble, River, Ricky, and Ri
ch were trying to use the lighter flints to start a fire by smashing them in between rocks lined with tinder. And I was waiting on water to boil once again.

  I needed one of the vases to be at least half full before I took it over to the landing. I noticed the floral scent and thought

  I must have been near death; I could smell that before I drank some fresh water. I would need to hurry so the other survivors wouldn’t die before I got them the water rations. I walked over to the ridge at a hasty pace; the clearing was all wet again the tide must be up. I reached the ridge and noticed it was just after sunset with a beautiful glow just above the western horizon, and noticing that I realized my sense of east and west were reversed,

  I had been working on the eastern side of the island and the

  landing was on the western side. The sudden cool humidity that had washed over the island revitalized me more so than the few sips of fresh water I had gotten out of the vase. It had also revitalized the rest of our former crew.

  They were arguing over exactly who’s stupidity was why they couldn’t start a fire, it was contagious they had observed

  Hudlow calling out ‘behold fire’ only to watch him repeatedly fail which robbed them of their confidence and hope, they had seen all the members of auxiliary division cover a rock with dry plant material then take a flint out of a lighter and smash it with another rock proving the definition of futility to everyone, they had seen people with glasses try to focus sun light to create a fire and noticed those people with their glasses off can’t see how focused the light was, like a blind person trying to invent a light bulb; the fact that they didn’t trust anyone else with their glasses was understandable after all they were apparently blind without them.