“We just have to keep going,” he continued. “Keep our hopes up. Keep the faith. Keep doing what we always do, which is to keep going.”
One of the crew said they were going around in circles and didn’t see the point in that.
“Progress can sometimes be frustrating,” said Shipwreck Chippy, “but I assure you we will reach land on October 14. We just have to keep afloat.”
He talked about the solid engineering of their raft, how the planks were lashed to six drums, which guaranteed them vital support even in the most powerful storm.
He jumped up and down on the raft to prove its strength, and then gave the crew their instructions for the day – fishing, cleaning the raft, scraping off the barnacles, mending their clothes. The whole day, his grin never left his face.
TUESDAY
Shipwreck Chippy was advised that one of the planks had splintered, become loose, and drifted away in the night.
Water poured on to the raft.
“We’re afloat,” he said. “We just have to keep going.”
WEDNESDAY
Shipwreck Chippy was advised that one of the planks had splintered, become loose, and drifted away in the night.
Water poured on to the raft.
“We’re afloat,” he said. “We just have to keep going.”
THURSDAY
Shipwreck Chippy sucked hard on his ration of barley sugar and fish paste, and studied his charts. He felt sure the current was taking them towards land. He conferred with Robertson, the petty officer. Robertson, too, felt sure the current was taking them towards land.
They looked out to sea. A storm was coming in.
Shipwreck Chippy said, “What are you most looking forward to when we reach land?”
“A cooked meal,” said the petty officer.
“Describe it.”
“Steak. Two big sirloin steaks, barbecued, with hot sauce. Fries. Onion rings. A fresh salad. Fresh bread, a whole loaf of it, still warm from the ovens. Pickles. Relish. Mashed potato, with gravy, and a topping of grated cheese. Havarti cheese, but cheddar will do. A glass of white wine, of course – a cheeky riesling, or a mature sauvignon blanc. Perhaps a beer chaser. And then for dessert ...”
He talked into the night. His words were drowned out by a violent storm.
FRIDAY
Shipwreck Chippy faced the crew with a wide grin. The light of dawn exposed the damage to the raft. Most of the planks had come loose, and drifted away. Some of the crew were naked. Some were missing. The petty officer was raving about chocolate mousse.
“We’ve been through worse storms,” said Shipwreck Chippy.
The crew stared at him. They took in his cracked lips and the way the corners of his mouth fell into deep crevasses. The eyes were sadder than ever.
He dared not jump up and down on the few remaining planks, and reminded the crew of their duties for the day: fishing, cleaning the raft, scraping off the barnacles, mending their clothes.
He looked out to sea. Another storm was coming in.
