February 20

I arrived back in AZ on Saturday, long day.
Here is some more of Water Borne. I guess I better do some more typing.

PART II

CHAPTER 1

Bob  trotted up the trail, a makeshift packsack made from a piece of canvas and strips of lawn chair webbing was slung over his back. He stopped at the fork and picked up the two full water pails he had left there that morning. The light rain that was falling felt good on his bare skin and although the air was getting cool now that summer had passed his body was warm from the rapid pace he had set for himself.

Although trotting was out of the question because of the water, he continued on up the cabin trail at a fast walk

It was late afternoon, he had just finished fishing from the reef after having circumvented the island for the second time that week.

Wearing nothing but a breechclout made from the same piece of canvas that his packsack came from and a mismatched pair of thongs on his feet, his skin was tanned to a dark bronze and with his a beard covering his face and his hair starting to touch his shoulders; he had the appearance of a creature from some primal time.

When he arrived at the cabin he paused briefly to survey with satisfaction, the small garden, now cultivated and showing some signs of recovery. Along the sunniest side of the cabin he had constructed a cold frame and growing inside were half a dozen tomato plants that he had started from the seeds of a tomato that he had found on the beach. Likewise there was a small apple tree almost eighteen inches high that was the result of an apple also found on the shore. It was carefully staked and enclosed in fence of sapling poles.

He set the pails beside the door then strode around to the back and taking off his pack he carefully dumped the contents out on the wood chips that littered the ground. Two nice rock fish tumbled out first  followed by the cleaned carcass of a large dungeoness crab, then the leaves and grass that they had been lying upon, moving to one side he shook the packsack, out tumbled four cork net floats, and a red canvas case with a white cross on the front.  He hadn’t taken the time other than to take a quick glimpse inside when he had found the case.

He was eager now to see what all would be in the case but he muttered aloud, “No first things first, lotsa time for that later.”

He reached around to his hip where his filleting knife now encased in more of the canvas,  hung on a leather thong. He quickly filleted the two fish then after skinning the fillets carried the remains around to the front and dug them into the ground at one end of the garden.

Going back to the lean-to he tossed the cork floats on the wood pile then picking up the rest of the day’s yield, went back around and into the cabin.

Bob opened the door of the barrel stove and nodded when he found that the ashes were still hot, he poked them with a stick and saw that there were still some glowing embers.

He carefully built up the fire frowning as he did. “I can’t keep wasting wood while I’m not here, and the sun is almost no help now, I need matches.”

Once the fire was drawing well, he put on a pot of water and a frying pan.