Page 99 of Adrift

“Hey.” I lean over the edge. But that’s when I see a little metal ladder. It’s eight feet long and hooked under the edge of the rail. I’m moving like a cat, listening for any signs the whole ship’s going to tip over. But it feels more solid than a ship tethered to a dock. “Give me a second. Stay there,” I say to Easton.

The U-shaped brackets that hold the ladder in place are snug, but with a little prying, I get it out and lower it to the rock below. “Think you can get up here with that?”

“Definitely.” Easton spends the time getting the pointy ends of the ladder positioned on the rocks and catapults himself up the ladder. I grab him by the wrist and help him on board. “Damn.”

“Spot on.”

“What’s in there?” Easton points to the wheelhouse as he steps toward it. The boat creaks, and we both freeze.

“Are you guys okay?” Haley yells.

“We’re good,” I reply. But I know my eyes are as big as Easton’s. “Step on the beams. Find the nails,” I answer before he asks.

“I know construction. I helped my dad build a barn. Or rather, we helped the contractors.” We step more gingerly to the wheelhouse. He pulls the door open. It’s damp inside but not wet. The roof has held. “Jackpot.”

“Exactly.” This is better than winning in Vegas. Not that I’ve ever been. I’ve been to Monte Carlo, but not into any of the casinos—too busy washing the boat. But damn. The room is a mess, the contents of the cabinets spilled out over the floor. A tattered bed is along one side of the wall. There are bird feathers all over it, but thank fuck, no current birds. But my eyes flick to the potbelly stove in the corner and then the cooking pots on the floor. I pick up a decent-sized kettle and start filling it with utensils from the floor. Two knives, a ladle, and a frying pan. Hallelujah, this is the absolute jackpot. Dante is going to be chuffed when he sees this. I rub my hands together, almost not knowing where to get started.

From the wall, Easton pulls a beaten orange metal box. “First aid kit. There are scissors, a little knife, and some old gauze.”

“Grab it.” Then, from underneath the bed, a flick of orange grabs my attention. “What’s this?” I push the tattered bedding away. It’s a net, and it’s solid. The rope in it doesn’t show any wear at all. I put the pot down and tug at the net. Easton joins me, and when it’s out completely, it dominates the room.

“I’ll take it out to Calvin.” Easton has his hands overflowing with net.

I nod at him. “Cal’s going to want to come up. I don’t think the three of us up here at the same time are a good idea, though.”

“Agreed.” Easton disappears out the door. With Calvin’s mass, I’m not sure he should come up here at all.

There’s stuff everywhere. When this was an operational ship, I bet every surface was covered and every inch of the wall had something hanging on it, every nook filled. I don’t know what I’m specifically looking for. Already the net, stove, and cooking gear are more than we could have hoped for. Behind the door, I find two large plastic water containers. Easton pops back into the room, and I hand the containers to him. “Take these out.”

There’s a trunk in the corner. With a lock. I pull on it, but it doesn’t open. Poking out from a broken crate on the floor is a hammer, and my heart sings. I think about giving the trunk a good whack with the hammer but decide against it. We have more than enough to carry. As soon as we can, I want to come back for the stove. We’ll be back for sure.

“Zane.” Calvin’s voice booms from below. “Get what you can and let’s get back to camp. It looks like rain.” It’s a command, not a request. Rain isn’t going to hurt anything here, nothing that hasn’t already been damaged.

I gather the pots and cooking gear. And I’m not sure why I do it, but I toss the covers back on the bed. There, in the corner of the bed frame, is a little dark bottle. I uncork it and smell it. “Whoo.” It’s strong alcohol, whatever it is. I put it in the pan and head out to the deck, making sure to shut the door to the wheelhouse behind me. I give it an extra pull. “We’ll be back.”

When I turn to the deck, Easton is lowering things off the port side to Calvin. Calvin’s got a long wingspan, and they’re almost able to hand things directly to each other. The net is down, as well as the water containers. There’s a pile next to Calvin of other things Easton must have found on deck. I give Easton the pot, and he passes it down. Cal’s right. Angry storm clouds are building behind us. And the wind has picked up significantly since we climbed up here.

Easton’s over the starboard side to the ladder. When his feet hit the rock, he holds the ladder for me. I tuck it under my arm and carefully make my way back around to our pile of loot.

Haley’s bouncing with excitement. “Dante is going to be so happy.”

Calvin has the net managed into a tight pile. His large ass is in the air as he finishes the packing of it.

“Happy?” Easton says. “I thought he had only one emotion: sarcasm.”

Haley rolls her eyes and playfully smacks Easton’s arm. But we all know he’s right. “He’s going to be happy, and you know it.” She takes the cooking gear under her arm. “What else can I carry?”

“Just keep tending to your ankle, Little Bird.” I give her a kiss on her head.

“Let’s go,” Calvin says in a gruff voice. He takes the massive net and heads into the jungle, leaving us with some of the other small things and a chair. Easton puts the chair over his arm like a bag, and I gather as much of the rest as possible.

Fat warm raindrops begin to fall as I look back at the boat. I can’t help but wonder what happened to her. Did she get thrown off-course in a storm? Or was it something more sinister? The slave trade in these parts doesn’t only affect women. Hundreds of sailors and fishermen are captured and forced to work on major ships every year. I might have gone down a rabbit hole on Reddit last summer when I learned we were going to Asia, but I’m keeping that to myself.

Looking up, I see the others are already making their way back to the jungle. I gather the rest of the stuff: two books, the first-aid kit, the alcohol, the ladder, and two of the water jugs.

We’re toddling at a snail’s pace down the trail. Even Calvin is being mindful of Haley’s leg, keeping the pace slow. He turnsevery few meters, looking back at Haley. The muscles on his neck are bulging. The driftnet is at least a hundred pounds.

“It didn’t feel this long to get there,” Haley says.

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