On the ninth day, a bountiful harvest of treasures by the sea

Yesterday, luck was against me. All I wanted was a few coconut palm leaves. Climbing trees isn’t my forte, but for the sake of adding a roof to my shelter, I forced myself up. With just one blow from a stone, I managed to knock down a leaf, but in the process, I slipped and fell from the tree. Yes, from several meters up, I landed badly—my leg twisted, swelling into a large lump. I couldn’t tell if it was broken. I barely managed to crawl back to my shelter and spent the entire day lying on my “bed.” An entire day, just like that.

This morning, I woke to find my left ankle still swollen, but I pushed myself up regardless. My time is limited. I cannot afford to waste any of it. None of this was in my plans. Today, I must go to the seaside and search for anything useful. Stepping onto the ground, the pain was still intense. I thought it had improved, but only now did I realize it hadn’t—pain that penetrates to the bone. Though I tried to plant my foot firmly, reflex forced me to lift my heel. There was nothing for it; I spent ages searching for a sturdy branch to support myself.

Finally, I arrived at the shore once more. Staring at the ceaselessly rolling tides, I asked myself, “What are you holding on for? Why are you persisting?” The answer, ultimately, is fear of death—I want to survive. Surviving is far harder than I ever imagined, I tell myself. Many times, a voice inside urges me to step into the sea, to let myself dissolve into the water. But in the end, I shake my head and walk away.

Today’s trip wasn’t in vain; I found some good things: a suitcase, several tattered fishing nets, a few broken planks, and even an old, worn-out slipper. Though the haul wasn’t much, each item could serve a purpose. Just as I was preparing to haul my spoils back, I noticed the tide receding rapidly, exposing rocks previously hidden beneath the waves. Numerous seabirds swooped down, reminding me that this was my chance to gather seafood.

The first thing I found was a starfish. I’d seen it grilled at barbecue stalls—it was edible. Approaching a nearby rock, I was surprised to discover oysters, my favorite. I frantically grabbed a stone and hammered away at the rocks. After a long while, I managed only two oysters, just two. Still, it was better than nothing. Then, I searched around the rocks and caught a few small crabs, along with some tiny fish. Unexpectedly, I even caught an eel, about a pound or so. Reluctantly, I left the oyster-laden rocks behind. I would’ve loved to eat more, but time was short and my condition forbade it; I had to maximize my energy with minimal effort. I didn’t understand the rhythm of the tides—if I indulged my appetite, I could easily be swept away by the surging waves. I told myself I’m afraid of dying, so the oysters would have to wait for another opportunity.

I stuffed my finds into the battered suitcase, managed to close it, and dragged it back toward my shelter. Passing through the coconut grove, a rustling from beneath the trees caught my attention. I gently set down the suitcase, gripped my supporting branch tightly, and crept toward the source of the sound. Sweat poured from my palms, my heart raced uncontrollably. I dreaded some terrifying creature leaping out to startle me. But curiosity always conquers fear.

At last, I was only three steps from the coconut tree. The rustling seemed to sense my approach and abruptly stopped, making me even more nervous—sweat beaded on my forehead. Those final three steps brought me face-to-face with the source: a huge spider! On closer inspection, it was encased in a shell—this must be a coconut crab, something I’d seen on television. Never had I seen one so large; its body was bigger than my head. Its massive pincers waved threateningly, as if trying to scare me off. I considered beating it with my branch, but my childish plan was quickly dashed—it snapped my branch in two with a single pinch. Still, it stood its ground, pincers raised, trying to intimidate me.

But it underestimated my intelligence. I turned back, grabbed the suitcase, and slammed it down over the crab. Then I jumped onto the case with all my strength. As expected, accompanied by a cracking sound, I won. It was heavy, probably around ten pounds. Today was my lucky day—so many delicacies, I quickened my pace back to the shelter.

Before nightfall, I made it back, lit the bonfire, and celebrated. With so much food, I’d be able to eat my fill. I placed the two oysters by the fire; I wanted to eat them raw, but feared diarrhea, so I just grilled them lightly—enough to eat them safely. The starfish went straight onto the fire. The small crabs and fish I stuffed into a soda can I’d found days ago, carefully adding some of the salt I’d dried earlier. The can heated quickly beside the fire.

I divided the coconut crab into several pieces—the body roasted by the fire, the legs skewered on branches angled beside the flames. On top of all this, there was an eel, which I threaded onto a branch but hadn’t yet started grilling; I simply couldn’t keep up.

The oysters cooked fastest—the shells popped open soon enough, the juices boiling inside. With a quick flick of a branch, I revealed the snow-white flesh. I scooped it out, and before it cooled, popped it into my mouth. It was scalding, and I exhaled in great breaths. But soon, waves of happiness flooded my senses: soft, tender, slightly sweet, fresh, smooth, tinged with brine and the taste of the sea. I savored it—it was exquisite. The second oyster followed, devoured in one bite.

With the oysters gone, the steaming starfish signaled it was ready. I’d never eaten one before, only seen others do so. Truthfully, its innards were somewhat revolting; anyone with a phobia of clusters might find it unbearable. The smell was reminiscent of the muddy rot of forest leaves, but the taste was a bit like crab roe, albeit with a strong flavor.

Next came the coconut crab—the highlight of the day. I hadn’t expected it to taste so wonderful: firm and springy, especially the legs, which were delicious. Its meat reminded me of crayfish, particularly the chewy texture.

Best of all, today’s soup turned out perfectly. I could taste the delicate saltiness, enhanced by the fish and crabs. The whole can of soup was gone in an instant.

I ate so much that, in the end, I didn’t even touch the eel before drifting off to sleep.