WRIT LARGE: Ch 20, Part 2

Count Your Rainbows

We join Jeff and the captain standing in front of their SOS sign.

“Everyone okay?” Jeff asks.

We all nod. I ask if the sign is visible enough to be recognised from above.

“Reckon we could do with a fire,” says Todd. “Get some smoke signals going.” He doesn’t wait around but begins scouting the debris and the lower cliff face for the driest branches.

Sandra and Tony are sitting on boulders on the other side of the SOS formation, sharpening sticks with smaller stones. They wave as if they’re enjoying a regular beach holiday with friends and have deliberately woken early to watch the sunrise.

The captain says, “They’ll send a search party now that the storm has cleared.” He walks to the sea and crouches, studying the horizon.

“Do you think he’s right?” Olivia asks.

“Sure,” says Jeff. “This is his life. That storm was probably nothing he hasn’t seen before.”

Todd, Jeremy, and Kim have already collected a stack of dryish tinder, and Kim removes a box of matches from a polythene bag in her backpack.

Olivia shakes her head. “Did you guys actually consider every eventuality?”

Jeremy smiles. “I think I speak for everyone when I say this is a first for me, but I sure as hell am glad I’m with you guys.”

“First things first.” Tony stands and demonstrates the spears that he and Sandra have made. “Breakfast. We’ll all think more clearly when we’ve eaten.”

They wade into the sea which is surprisingly shallow considering the island was virtually underwater twelve hours ago.

I hear a flapping sound above our heads. The deflated dinghy is being pecked at by a large white bird who appears to be trying to steal it to furnish its nest.

Jeff must sense that the destroyed vessel will do nothing for morale. “Hey, it did its job and got us here in one piece. Let the gull build a condo with that one, we’ve still got the other one if we need it for raw materials. Consider it a thank you.”

“What can I do to help?” Olivia asks, staring helplessly at the pile of sticks and brush from which a thin stream of smoke is emerging.

“Come with me and we’ll collect more tinder,” says Todd, rising. “We can’t let the fire burn out once we get it going.”

I ask Jeff quietly if he shares the captain’s confidence that we’ll be rescued.

He stares at the sea which has copied the sky and winks at us with pink and gold ripples. “We’ll be back at Tioman by nightfall,” he says. “How exactly, I’m not certain, but we’ll get you back for your writer’s retreat.”

I tell him that this is quite possibly the most surreal situation I’ve ever found myself in.

He laughs. “It’s one to write about. From the other side, at least. It’ll look like a whole different ballgame in a few days when you’re sipping a glass of something and discussing your next book.”

I tell him I will never consider climbing down the side of a cliff again.

“People never fail to surprise me,” Jeff says. “We all have this inbuilt resilience, a sense of survival that never burns out, even when we’re on a sinking boat. I always remind myself that people have survived far worse than this, and if this is what has been sent to test me, then bring it on.”

I tell him that is a wonderful outlook to have and that I feel rather inadequate as my initial reaction on waking this morning was to go for a walk and find a phone signal.

Jeff shakes his head. “Hey, we’re all survivors here. You’re awake. You’re alive. You made it down from up there.” He points to the trees on the clifftop. “We’ve all walked different paths to get here. Take Tony here.” He gestures to Tony who is thigh-deep in water, spear poised, eyes fixated on any movement beneath the water’s surface. “He will have seen things that you and I might never recover from, yet his angle is, if I can use it to help others, then sure, that’s what I’m here for. Young Olivia—a great girl. Stronger than she looks. She keeps it light because deep down she’s frightened, but my guess is that she’s grateful you’re here because she sees that you’re in this together, survivors in different ways to the other guys.”

I ask Jeff if he has ever considered writing a book.

He laughs. “Words are not my strong point even though I talk to people until I’m hoarse some days, and you might think I never shut up. You on the other hand …” He lets the sentence hang.

I tell him that if he’s hinting at what I think he’s hinting at, I’d be honoured to write his biography on one condition—he gets us off this island in one piece.

“Deal.” He offers me a hand to shake, and I accept it.

Next time though, I tell him, all he needs to do is ask.

He laughs out loud and clamps a hand on my shoulder. “Noted.”

“Got one!” Sandra yells and holds her spear above her head, a small silver fish flapping frantically on the tip.

“That’s my breakfast. Cheers!” says Jeff.

Tony high-fives her with a wide grin. Jeremy wades out to take the fish from her. He brings it back to the fire, which is now crackling and spitting, Kim’s cheeks rosy as she crouches on all fours, blowing into the twigs to fan the flames.

Olivia and Todd return with bundles of twigs and tall spiky reeds, smiling when they notice the roaring campfire.

Sandra’s first catch seems to inspire a domino effect of fish waiting to be caught, and before long, six fish are cooking over the fire on stick skewers, sharpened at each end by Todd with a small rock.

Sitting in a circle, all eyes on breakfast roasting over the flames, it almost feels like we are back on Coral Island, telling stories around the campfire and drinking beer, the teambuilding challenge still ahead of us. Eating charred fish with my fingers from large flat leaves scrounged from the lowest trees is, I think, the best meal I’ve ever had. Seems that warmth and food is what we all needed to revive us in body and spirit.