Stranded. Marooned at sea, paddle’s out of reach and now its gonna storm. If my calculations are correct, it’s Friday. Somebody up there likes me. I spent the last two days holding on for dear life. To a part of the ship. Our ship. I was deathly afraid. Not afraid of drowning. Just that circle of black swimming around me. Sharks. I watched them circle around me for awhile before blacking out. And now I’m here. On an island. And I guess I’m in shock. As I stir I see my bare arms. Scratched and bleeding from the rocks and coral. I’m worried about my legs. Sharks. As I look down I expect the worst. I am so relieved to discover that all my limbs are intact. Oh, I’m wounded but intact.

Wednesday morning had been a righteous one. Nary a cloud in the sky. Our first mate was on watch that morning. Perhaps he had too much grog the night before. Because he missed the French frigates on the morning horizon. I had just made my way on deck when the first cannonball hit. It punched a hole through the deck not twenty feet in front of me. Splinters and chunks of wood everywhere. A spear-sized splinter found my cheek. And then more cannonballs. We didn’t stand a chance. There would be no need to take us as a prize. We were sinking. As I saw men fall I caught my first glimpses of the sharks. They tore into us. And now here alone on this island. I have been exploring. It was rough going at first. Not one part of my body wanted to move. The island is small. But I’m resourceful. Everything I need to survive is here. And just think, I could’ve been stranded ... xoRJ