Chapter 2: Salvage

He awoke only a few hours later greeted by the excruciating agony of his injuries. His fire had died down to only a few glowing embers and he could perceive a lighter eastern horizon, suggesting daybreak. He groaned as his body protested even the slightest movement. The left side of his chest spasmed sharply with each breath, while his hip and thigh throbbed a steady constant misery. He was still unable to open his left eye and his fevered chills had returned with a vengeance. He knew he was deathly ill and needed to rest, but his basic needs prompted him to shed his makeshift covering and rise unsteadily to his feet.

As he relieved himself nearby, he reflected on his situation. It was still too dark to tell where the tide was, but he suspected that it had completed its flood while he slept and was receding once more. Groping for his staff, he limped painfully to the pool to drink his fill. He knelt at the water’s edge and delicately doused his head, scrubbing lightly to remove or soften the many thick scabs that covered his tender face. He relished the soothing coolness as he soaked his damaged eye.

He froze suddenly. A noise came to him from very close by. A soft rustling perhaps from a light disturbance in the gravel across the pool from him. A sense of imminent danger seeped into his wary conscience as he reached slowly for his staff. He peered intently at the source but could not discern any detail in the darkness. A breath. A snuffling was followed by another disturbance in the sandy gravel. It was definitely an animal, but its size and type he could not tell. Perhaps it was only interested in refreshing its thirst.

With painful slowness he backed away from the pool, returning to his camp at a painful crawl. His aches and pains were forgotten as he reached for several sticks and added them to his fire. He selected a heavier solid branch and placed it nearby to defend himself if needed. Raking the remaining coals together he piled more fuel on top and urged it to flame with several slow painful breaths. Once the fire took, he crept back to his pallet, club in hand, and sat heavily. His exhaustion overwhelmed him, but he resisted the urge to sleep. Instead, he peered into the darkness, trying to identify the source of his anxiety. But his night vision was further corrupted by the brightness of the flames, and he could see nothing. A silence fell about him, softened by the crackling and popping from the fire. Despite his concern, his fatigue once again claimed his tired brain and he lay back against his pallet, falling asleep once more.

His concerns were answered a short while later as he awakened to the sound of whining and growling. He looked across the pool in the dawning light and saw a small, dilapidated form rolling awkwardly on the ground. It appeared to be a wolf pup and his initial impression was that it was injured, but there was not enough light yet to ascertain how. With a painful groan, he sat upright and placed his bare feet on the cool ground. The pup immediately sprang up with a yip and started slinking away with a severe limp. He saw that it favored its left front leg and he thought he could see an object sticking from its shoulder. Then it was too far away and receding slowly.

His fire had again died down, so he added more fuel and let it rekindle at its own pace. Checking about he was pleased that all the hanging garments were dry, so he dressed himself with agonizing slowness. Finishing with his new boots, he stood and made his way to the shoreline, assisted by his staff. The going seemed a little easier this time but he still felt weak and fevered from the trauma to his body and lack of rest.

The aft end of the Starling remained perched above the water as before, and he could make out the rails and subtle shape of the closer midship portion. He could not tell if the second tide was still ebbing or not, so he sat on a log to watch and observe. Just to his left, north of the midships, he spotted another enormous log floating very close to the water’s edge. It stood high out of the water and seemed to be drifting towards the dead vessel. An idea began forming in his head and he quickly pulled off his boots and disrobed. He only had to wade out a few paces before he was able to touch the log and climb onto it. It was large enough that he was able to stand up with little movement. He delicately walked the length of it and back, noting how little his weight displaced it. It barely sank. Satisfied, he used his staff to pole it over the closer hull until it bumped against the rail. He climbed aboard and quickly cut away two lengthy pieces of rope to secure the driftwood to the ship’s rail.

There were over a dozen crates of various sizes and weights located in the undamaged part of the hold. Each was lowered into place with a heavy net, which was left in place for the items’ eventual removal. Even at full strength, he would be unable to lift even the smallest crate, but with the tide’s help, it would be a simple, if timely process.

The sun had risen an arm’s length above the horizon, but its angle was not ideal for peering down into the watery confines of the hull’s interior. Sighing, he decided to explore by feel and he dropped back into the frigid water. The salt burned his wounds and one good eye, but the discomfort faded as he began taking the painful saturation breaths. This too seemed a bit easier than the evening before. He would need solid nourishment and rest before his body could heal completely.

Pulling himself down. he descended to the largest crate directly below the hatchway and inspected its integrity by feel. It measured about five by five feet. He deemed it sound and found the heavy net beneath it. Resurfacing for air he peered around the gloomy hold, locating the next crate of interest. Two of the next smaller crates would contain the majority of his smithing tools and equipment, including his coveted anvil. But he could not tell which was which in the gloom. It didn’t matter as each of them would eventually be removed. Selecting the crate closest to its bigger brother, he swam down and tugged its net until he had located the 4 lifting eyes and placed them atop the box. Now he needed to find the heavy rope used for picking them up.

It took him nearly 30 minutes to locate the stowing locker and the ropes he needed. He also discovered a long pike hook, several fishing spears, and several small heavy crates that he was able to lift to the deck. His last action was to tie off the end of a heavy rope to the four lifting eyes of his selected net, then place the remainder upon the deck until he was ready. By now the tide had started to flood and he estimated it to be another hour before the deck would be submerged once again. He studied the horizon and memorized the time. Inspecting the smaller boxes, he determined that one likely contained nails. The others he had no idea of.

To facilitate his idea, he used the pike to bust away the handrail and pushed the pieces closer to shore for retrieval later. As the log rose closer to the edge of the deck, he untied one end and pushed it away so that the wooden bulk gradually lined itself adjacent to the hull. Pausing, he looked to the shore with the sun on his back. The smoke from his fire identified his camp that was otherwise obscured by the rocky shore and scattered logs. To his right, he spotted the pup again. It had wandered closer to the shore and sat watching him curiously. In the light, he could see that its coat was a deep red and it looked scrawny in its awkward growth stage. Its ears were much too large for its head, and it appeared to lean towards its right side. As he looked at the injured animal, another idea began to form.

A short time later he was able to float the bulky log across the deck and position it so that it was centered across the hatch. He quickly wrapped the heavy lifting rope twice about the log and tied it off. He only needed to wait for the tide at this point, so he debated his next move. His body shivered violently in the cold as he stood knee-deep in the water. He stared over at the nearby aft portion and considered swimming over to inspect it. His teeth chattered uncontrollably so he opted for his campfire first.

Rather than dress again he simply carried his clothing and boots with him to the fire, grabbed a length of thick cloth he had cut from a bolt the day before, and hung to dry. He wrapped himself in the makeshift robe and sat before the fire until he stopped shaking. He ate one of his shriveled potatoes and a handful of beans that he had soaked in several available oyster shells. He went to his pool and washed the salt from his face, scrubbing gently about his lacerations and swollen eye. He glanced about but could not see the pup anywhere. Deciding to lure it closer he grabbed several more oysters and took them back to his camp where he opened them and cut them from their shells. He returned to the pool and placed them next to its large footprints. He placed the food offering between a pair of large rocks and carried a couple of planks to place across them to hide it from the scavenging birds.

The urge to nap was great but he forced himself to remain alert by fashioning himself a sling from some cordage and a scrap piece of leather. He searched about for a handful of round stones to use and bided his time practicing. His accuracy was terrible at first but as he practiced, he found himself getting closer and closer to the gulls as they attempted to raid the food offering nearby. Eventually, they flew away seeking easier fare. He decided to attempt the aft hull to see if he could gain access to the armory. If successful, he would be able to hunt for meat.

He made his way back to the shore, left his robe and staff sitting on a log, and braved his way back into the frigid water. The tide had risen about a foot and still had another five to go before it reached the second flood. Favoring his right arm, he side-stroked as smoothly as possible and reached the stricken hull within minutes. He grabbed the rail and pulled himself aboard. He would have to swim down to the portal that led to the aft cabins and stern hold. By the way, the ship was tilted, he suspected the rear compartments to be mostly unflooded. After several saturation breaths, he dove below the surface and felt his way down the stairs next to the helm. He quickly found the portal and was able to pull it open with three jerks. He slipped in and rose about six feet before his head broke the surface.