Day Twenty-Five: Sudden Arrival (Part One)

I believe I am still quite fortunate. So many setbacks, yet none have managed to bring me down.

Today, I have many things to accomplish. Little Black is much better now; his wound has started to scab. With this kind of penetrating injury, the greatest dangers are poor healing and infection. But now, the pus and blood have stopped oozing, and a thin layer of clear fluid covers the wound.

This has greatly eased my worries.

Today, the first thing I did was head to the seaside. There’s something I must do—I need salt! Without salt, I find even my appetite has diminished.

Salt is not easy to come by, so I decided to try another method: making sea salt.

I know you can’t do this on the sandy beach; even if you dig a pit, it would soon seep away, and I can’t possibly pick salt grains from the sand. I wandered along the shore for quite a while, circling several rocky outcrops, but none were suitable.

I had to keep searching.

I’d already left the beach far behind when, finally, I found a spot that fit my requirements on a seaside rock. It was a hollow, roughly eighty square meters in size—not very deep, no more than eighty centimeters at its deepest.

I examined the pit carefully; there were no holes.

Excellent, though it was a bit large. This spot was about twenty meters from the sea—not too far. But I knew that if I wanted to fill it with seawater, I would have to spend a lot of time and energy.

Fortunately, I wasn’t short on either. Once I’d made up my mind, no matter how difficult, I would persist.

The two large plastic bottles I’d found before became my main tools for carrying water. They were the biggest containers I had, each holding about five liters.

It was noon; the sun was merciless. I’d already drunk a fifth of the two bottles of fresh water tied to my body with vines, and sweat poured off me as if it cost nothing.

When I poured the first load of seawater into the stone pit, steam immediately rose, and bubbles sizzled as the water spread. Nearly ten liters of seawater quickly evaporated by more than half.

I noticed that, at the edge of the remaining water, a white residue had already appeared where it had dried.

I approached, dipped a finger in, and touched it to my tongue. Yes, salty.

This discovery lifted my spirits. At least now I had hope—my efforts weren’t in vain.

If I worked hard and transported more water quickly, it would at least be enough for my daily needs.

Again and again, I ferried water between the sea and the stone pit. Though it was hot, I remained full of confidence. The seawater evaporated much faster than I could carry it, and after all my trips, only a faint watermark was left in the pit.

The stone pit had been baked scorching hot by the sun, and it was only now that I realized it was far too big. At my current pace, it would take many days to fill it.

I needed a larger container.

But I had none.

A trace of frustration crept into my heart.

But I had forgotten something even more serious…

I began to feel dizzy, nauseated, and on the verge of vomiting.

Yes, I had forgotten to rest, forgotten the sun’s ferocity, forgotten the signals from my body.

In fact, my skin was already burning hot, and my hair felt as if it would catch fire.

I had heatstroke.

Before I could react, the food still digesting in my stomach surged up my throat.

I bent over and vomited. But as soon as I lowered my head, a wave of vertigo hit me. My vision went black, and I collapsed.

Yet fortune still smiled upon me—my head struck a rock, and I woke up again.

I could feel the pain in my forehead, blood trickling down to the corner of my eye, but I didn’t care. The vomit was stuck in my airway, nearly suffocating me.

With all my strength, I rolled over onto my side.

Coughing violently, I finally expelled the culprit, and in that instant, the sweet flow of oxygen returned to my body. Once again, I narrowly escaped death.

But I wasn’t out of danger yet. I felt terribly ill; my stomach was churning, my skin burned even hotter, and my mind began to blur.

I must admit, my will to survive was exceedingly strong—that alone had kept me alive until now.

The coconut grove was some distance away, and I wasn’t sure I could make it there.

So, in a very short time, I made a decision.

Into the sea! Yes, I would cool down in the sea.

I had suffered heatstroke before and knew well what to do: lower my body temperature, rehydrate—and if possible, drink saline.

Now, I had only one option: get in the sea, hide in the shadow of a reef, escape the sun’s direct rays, and let my temperature drop as quickly as possible.

It took me ages to prop myself up and start toward the shore.

Heavy, laborious steps—each one wrung from me with cattle-like gasps, every breath failing to meet my body’s demands, each footfall requiring several efforts.

Several times, I thought I would collapse, that I couldn’t go on, but in the end, though my body swayed, I managed to hold on.

If I had fallen, I doubt I’d have had the strength to get up again.

“Almost there, just a bit further, soon I’ll be in the sea,” I kept telling myself, forcing myself onward.

I had no strength left at all—my head felt like it would split open, my mouth parched, my throat ablaze. The only thing keeping me going was sheer willpower; I could not give in, could not relax, could not give up.

Five steps to go, and it felt like my blood was boiling.

Four steps, and my vision began to blur.

Three steps, and I was close to suffocating—I could barely breathe. My mouth was wide open, but still, I couldn’t feel any fresh air entering.

Two steps left—I could do it! I had to do it. I could no longer feel anything; it was as if my senses had shut down completely.

One last step—and I made it.

The moment I stepped into the sea, my entire body collapsed.

Relief, salvation, comfort, the return of breath, coolness…

A flood of positive sensations washed over me as I lay back in the seawater beside the reef, letting the waves sweep over me.

I had not an ounce of strength left. I felt like a red-hot iron bar suddenly plunged into cool water; though there was no sizzle, every pore in my body began to close, locking in what little water I had left inside.

I was so sleepy—it was the same feeling I’d had on my first day here.

But I warned myself not to sleep. If I did, I might die—by drowning, by freezing, or by dehydration. I had to replenish water as soon as possible, and it had to be salty water…

Carelessness is always the greatest danger…