Chapter Ten: On the Beach
Pam awoke just after sunrise to find Dore preparing breakfast. She had cleverly arranged a pile of volcanic stones into a simple oven, and was using it to bake what looked like muffins. Pam decided right then that the woman was some kind of miracle worker. Nearby, Gerbald, Löjtnant Lundkvist, and the bosun were conferring about their situation while the sailors and soldiers slowly roused themselves. Pam, her legs and back stiff from the lack of a mattress, lurched over to join them. The Swedes greeted her warmly, glad that she was up and about while Gerbald flashed her a grin.
"Look, Pam, it is just like in The Swiss Family Robinson, isn't it? We are marooned on a desert island! How thrilling!" Gerbald told her in a far too chipper tone, obviously hoping to cheer her up, but only succeeding in annoying her thoroughly.
"Back off, Man Friday, I ain't had no coffee," Pam answered in a menacing croak. Gerbald nodded solemnly at her medical emergency, but didn't lose his smile. He always seemed delighted with adversity, often to Pam and Dore's chagrin.
Dore gave Pam a very apologetic look. "Pam, I am so sorry. The coffee was lost in the storm."
"It's not your fault, Dore! You have gone way beyond the call of duty! Look at this breakfast, it's fantastic!" All those gathered murmured their sincere agreement, and Dore went back to her ceaseless work, satisfied that she had done everything she could to ensure they had food to eat, and under very dangerous circumstances to boot.
Pam turned to the bosun. "Any idea where we are, Herr Bosun?"
The stout, windburned Swede scratched at his gray-streaked, red beard. He used a stick to draw a rough map in the sand.
"Not with perfect accuracy, mind you, Frau Pam, but I have some idea. We were approaching the southern tip of our destination when the attack happened. We fled to the north and west. The storm carried us some five miles, our progress slowed as we were taking on water. So, we are somewhere on the south coast of Mauritius. Even after looking at the up-time maps I have no idea where. They show very little of the island's topography." The sun could now be seen poking its head above tall, green hills.
"What do you think became of the rest of our fleet?" Pam turned to Löjtnant Lundkvist, a serious fellow in his early thirties, an adept leader who would likely go far in the royal service. She tried to keep a growing sense of fear and loss out of her voice.
"Frau Pam, when last sighted, the colony ships were fleeing the opposite direction from us, heading east toward the southern tip, and most likely up the island's east coast. They would have been looking for a sheltered harbor and I recall seeing one on the map. . . . I hope they made it that far. They weren't alone, I fear. We saw other foreign sails, of a kind the heathens use. No doubt mercenaries hired by the French to aid in this foul endeavor. There can be no doubt our little warship was captured, and most likely the colonist's ships, as well, God save their souls. They were flying French colors, and we are still effectively at war with the French."
"The fucking French. Those bastards." Pam was startled at the seething hate she heard in her words, but it was there. These weren't the charming, thin-mustachioed, beret-wearing fellows seen in daytime TV documentaries about wine, cheese and fine cuisine. This was another age and these were the enemy. She had lost nearly everything; the expedition was in ruins. They were just lucky to be alive and she wasn't sure how long that would last. She looked around at the men gathered, all grown quiet as the direness of their situation grew ever more apparent.
"Gentlemen, doesn't it seem a bit convenient to you that in all this wide ocean, a French man-o-war was lurking around a remote place like this, just in time for our arrival?"
They all nodded grimly.
"Richelieu," Lundkvist said the name as if pronouncing a particularly offensive obscenity, "has spies everywhere. He wouldn't have even needed them this time. Our journey was very public, widely promoted in newspapers and on radio while the princess and her offices were fund-raising for it. As for why he would attack us, I think that's clear enough—"
Pam jumped in before he could continue. "Because in the up-time history this island became a French colony and he doesn't want to lose it to Gustav. Once developed into a way station on the journey around Africa to-and-from points east, I guarantee you this place will be an economically valuable, and strategic holding."
Lundkvist grinned at her. "Well put, Frau Pam. Have you ever served in a military? You seem to have the mind for it."
"Nope, I just did my homework. I spent more time at the library than at home before we left. But the thing I didn't think of that's killing us right now is how desirable this island might be to other foreign powers. I should have bugged the princess to get us a bigger warship."
"Pam, you ask too much of yourself," Gerbald told her gently.
Lundkvist nodded. "Frau Pam, we are military trained, and we didn't see this coming either. In any case, another ship would have been impossible. The king's assets are all tied up in Europe. We got the Muskijl only because she was being retired. It was to be her last voyage as a Swedish warship. We planned to donate her to the colony."
Mention of their ill-fated colony caused them all to fall silent, their concern for the colonists weighing heavy on their minds. What more was there to say? It might be another year or more before anyone friendly came looking for them. Meanwhile, they were stuck on an island where they were heavily outnumbered with no ship. To put it bluntly, we're screwed. Pam kept the thought to herself.
Still filled with anger, she made herself unclench her fists and looked around at the three men. She realized that now they were waiting for her to say something. Why were they waiting for her? The bosun's tired and bleary hazel eyes watched her patiently. Yes, this was a man awaiting orders, a man ready to go to work. More surprising, she felt the same vibe from the lieutenant. She realized that with the captain and first mate missing, she was ostensibly in charge, the brilliant up-time lady scientist appointed to lead the expedition by their beloved princess. Oh, Hell! I don't want this job! All Pam wanted to do was curl up under a tree and cry herself to sleep. With a kind of mental shove she made herself look up, knowing it was up to her to do something.
"All right, then. Thank you, gentlemen. We must hold on to hope that Analise and Ide won free. We may be shipwrecked but we aren't completely lost. We know what island we're stuck on, and the people back home will eventually come look for us here. We may be outnumbered and outgunned by the French and their allies, but we are far from helpless. I have great faith in all of you. Let's stay vigilant, and keep working while we ponder our next move." That actually sounded pretty good!
"We should make another sweep of the beach to see if anything has washed up overnight." She had hung on that word "anything" for a second longer than she wanted to, thinking of what things might have arrived with the tide that she might not want to see. "We are going to need fresh water. Gerbald, can you take that on? This sure isn't Germany, but you're the best woodsman we've got."
"Of course, Pam. We may be far from home, but this is still the world of our birth, and where there is greenery, there is water. I will find it."
"Good. As Crystal would say, 'You the man.' " They shared a quick smile, and Pam began to feel better. It was a small, weak kind of better, but still a step in the right direction. The Swedes were already heading off to organize the search party. She called after the bosun.
"Herr Bosun, can we take the pinnace out today to see what's left of the Redbird?"
"Yes," he said, coming back to her side "but we must wait for a better tide. Right now it is too shallow. See the coral reefs out there? In a few hours the tide will come in and we can go. While we wait, I will send the men down the beach."
"Taking the pinnace out to the wreck, that's exactly what they did in Swiss Family Robinson!" Gerbald was back to his boyish delight in being marooned. "I do wish I had that book with me now." He sounded like this was all a cheerful Sunday picnic, earning him a roll of the eyes from both Pam and the bosun.
Pam turned to the grizzled seaman. "Thanks, Herr Bosun. When you go, I want to come along. I have to see how bad it is with my own eyes. . . . It was kind of my ship, you know?"
"I understand completely. I am so sorry we lost her for you. It is a shame myself and all our men feel most strongly. Today the seas are calm and I believe it will be safe enough. And now, to work." The bosun, with tasks to accomplish before him, sounded almost like his old cheerful self as he rousted the still-sleepy men, and gave them their orders.
Gerbald stayed with Pam a minute longer, his always startling blue eyes regarding her calmly from beneath his monstrous mustard colored hat, which had unfortunately survived the wreck along with him. Pam met that stare with her own metal-flecked grays and said "What?"
Gerbald flashed her a truly sunny smile. "I am just pleased to see you have adjusted to the circumstances so quickly, Pam. You are truly the toughest, and most resourceful woman I have ever met, excepting Dore, of course. There is no one else I would rather be shipwrecked with . . . except, perhaps, Ginger and Mary-Anne." He had a dreamy look on his face.
Pam flipped him the bird that one doesn't find in any field guides, and marched off to join in the search.