Chapter 1: The Island

Pain! Hot searing pain! A pain so intense that left no room in his brain to process any other thoughts; a pain that shoved every thought out of his head. He couldn’t remember feeling such intense pain in his life; a pain where his entire body was bathed in complete agony. Even though disoriented, he still felt the damp coarseness of the sand against his face and the grit in his mouth against his teeth.

Slowly he opened one eye, but the reflection of white sand made him quickly close it. The disorientation was total. “Where am I?” He wondered. “And why is there so much pain,” The thought moved through his head he was on a beach, but where? How had he arrived on this beach and most of all; why did his body ache so much?

Water started lapping at his feet and he realized he needed to see if he could move. Marshaling his strength, he tried to push his body up. When he pushed himself up with his right arm he screamed from the pain, and quickly fell to the sand as his arm gave way. He couldn’t believe how one action started his whole body hurting again. And the arm he tried to use wouldn’t obey.

Lying on the beach, he tried collecting his thoughts. He forced his brain to think about what had happened. What transpired to cause him ending up lying on a white sandy beach? Trying as hard as he could, nothing came to mind. The throbbing pain wracking his body kept all but one thought at bay, the pain.

One memory finally slipped through the pain. He recalled a ship and being tied up in a port at ... and the memory ended. What port? Any memories about the ship were beyond him?

The sun beating down on his prone body disturbed his revelry. The intense bite of the sun made him think it must be midday. The sun directly above was becoming unbearable by the minute. He knew he needed to crawl further up the beach, or he would not be alive when the sun finally set. Through the pain, he understood he had to get out of the sun. However, knowing something and doing something about it were two different things. He didn’t know if his body would obey enough to allow him to move. He’d already discovered his right arm didn’t work so he decided to try and use his left one.

Pushing down, the arm seemed to work, even though the pain of moving his body almost rendered him immobile. He knew he had to force his body up the beach to the shade in the stand of trees if he was going to live.

Crawling forward, once he glanced up the beach towards the trees and quickly realized what a mistake it was; the shade seemed to be miles away. Becoming discouraged by how far the shade was from his tortured body he decided it best not to look up again. He’d just keep pushing himself over the sand until either he was out of the sun, or he passed out.

Slowly, and with great difficulty, he pushed himself up the beach until finally he was nestled in the relatively cool of the shade. The exertion of moving kept his body in pain and once in the shade, he passed out.

The next time he woke he was aware time had passed and it was getting close to sundown. With a little movement he was able to move his body enough to sit and he watched the sun slip into the sea. He gathered if he was watching a sunset, “I must be on the west side of...” His mind stopped. The next thought kept running repeatedly through his brain, “the west side of what?”

Laying there, he tried to remember more of where he could be, or how he got there. New bits and pieces would float to mind, and then quickly flee. He forced himself to hold onto the next memory.

Suddenly, he remembered fighting, a lot of fighting. He closed his eyes, and he remembered orders screamed in fear, then new orders countermanding the previous ones. He recalled chaos everywhere. Sweaty, bloody bodies fighting and finally the loud noise and then the searing pain. His eyes popped open, and the pain reminded him of his right arm.

The pain in his arm helped his mind start to clear. He recalled parts of what happened. There was terrible pain in his right shoulder, and he remembered the moment it happened. He’d been climbing the mizzen shrouds, fighting two men below him with a cutlass in his left hand and then there the loud noise, the searing pain in his right side and losing his grip on the rigging, falling into the water below. After that, nothing. How he had managed to get from fighting on the ship to this beach ... he had no idea.

Thirst! His tongue was swollen; he was thirsty ... even though he wondered where he was, now more consuming was the location of water. He drifted off and when he awoke, morning was slowly coloring the sky. He watched the clouds become pink, move through scarlet and then the colors finally fade.

Hunger and thirst demanded he make some effort and try to move. Using his left arm again, he found he could push himself up to a sitting position. Not too far away was a palm tree and he pulled his body to the base of it. Using the tree, with great difficulty, he pulled himself to a standing position. He quickly found standing was a new experience in pain ... the world seemed to be spinning and he held tightly to the tree to keep from falling.

After a while, his head started to clear, and he noticed not too far away a small stream flowing into the bay. He was pleased it was not too far away. He didn’t want to let go of the palm tree, but he knew the only way to water was to let go. Staggering forward and falling once, with great difficulty, he got up and finally made it to the shallow stream. This time he allowed himself to just fall and let the brook move around his body, its water cool, and felt so good. Taking a careful sip, he was relieved to find there was no salt taste ... it was safe to drink. He knew better than to drink all he wanted, but instead took small, careful sips. He didn’t remember falling asleep again, but when he woke, the sun had moved overhead. He pulled himself carefully further up the stream until trees shaded him. Once more, the exertion of the move made him pass out.