Page 22 of Shipwrecked

Mathieu and Cillian exchange a worried look. Cillian leans in to study my face. “Do you have a headache? Why aren’t you arguing?”

“I’m tired.”

Cillian squeezes my arm. “We need to get some calories into you. Seán saw fruit trees inland, so I’m going to go with him to gather food for everyone.”

“I can help,” Mathieu offers.

“I’d rather you stay here with Jules. Make sure he ‘acts’ injured.”

“Should I tie him up?”

“If you need to.”

“Guys.”

“I’ll set some vines aside,” Cillian continues.

“You’re not funny. Either of you.”

Mathieu makes a sorry sound in his throat, petting my hair. “Was someone telling jokes?” he asks.

I scowl.

Cillian chuckles. “Alright, you get the idea. Just take it easy.”

I’m the last to get up. The clouds are gone, and the sun shines down brightly on the beach. The others drag out the fronds we slept on to use as cushioned seats. Mathieu won’t let me help. I’m not the only one who’s tired, and I can see it in everyone’s faces that they’re equally disgruntled about not being able to brush their teeth.

Cillian returns with a bunch of bananas, while Seán has a bundle of figs stuffed into his makeshift sling, alongside a large handful of green leaves. My stomach is more settled than last night, and I eat everything Mathieu puts into my hands. I make sure my gaze doesn’t cross Darren’s, but I feel his stare as Mathieu continues to stick to my side.

“This, you are all going to appreciate,” Seán announces. He gives everyone a handful of the green plant.

I sniff it and brighten. “Mint?”

“Thank God!” Mary exclaims.

We all chew, and whether it’s the fresh taste or the food in our stomachs, the mood rebounds.

I cast a look over the group and push Darren’s accusations aside as I draw in a deep breath. “Should we move our setup?”

There’s a series of puzzled looks.

“We’re exposed to the wind here. It’s warm now, but I was cold last night.” A few people nod. “Even just a few feet into the treeline would be a good buffer.” We all look to the wall of jungle. I wince. “Or maybe walking to the other side of the island so we’re sheltered by the jungle? Either way, I think we need to do something.”

Darren’s mouth hooks at one corner. I hear the sardonic we? in his gaze.

“That being said,” I rush out before he talks, “I’m having a hard time even turning my head, so the work would be carried out by you guys…”

“Seán and I were discussing this when grabbing food,” Cillian says. “I noticed a natural break in the treeline about a kilometre that way that I think would make a good spot. We can have the shelter without fighting our way through that.” He gestures at the wall of green.

My shoulders loosen at Cillian’s agreement.

“We’d keep the yacht in sight that way too,” I point out. We all look to where it’s sitting half-submerged. The punishing waves have gone, and the water doesn’t look dark and menacing any more. It’s not any different from the beach we were snorkelling at a day ago.

“Sounds good to me,” Mary says. “Though I’m the same as Jules. I can’t help with the heavy lifting.”

Charles leans over and pecks her on the lips. “Your job is to heal up that ankle, and I’ll do the heavy lifting for you.”

“Mary, if you could help weave together leaves, getting some layered walls done would be a great help,” Seán tells her. “We need more to keep that rain off us.”