Perhaps you'll remember...

The continuation of a story that began here. It is not a direct transcript of, but is still almost completely taken from a dream that I had.

~ It has been a full two days now since our engines died and according to the mechanics there is nothing to be done for them. Our engineers, some of the best it should be said, have been ordered by the captain to keep at it, but having looked over the damage myself, I am doubtful that there is any hope of resuscitating the behemoths.

Our ship was blown so far off course in the storm that I believe we are quite distant from the usual currents. We do not seem to be drifting anywhere fast, and as of yet not one other sign of life has been spotted. Allow me to correct myself, there has been one sign of life. A fisherman in a dinghy. Apparently his skiff took damage in the storm. He stayed with her until it was obvious that she was going down, at which time he retired to his lifeboat, taking with him only the barest essentials, aka what he could lay his hand to on his way out.

Just barely riding out the storm in the small dinghy (over which fact I am still at a loss, as I would have sworn that nothing short of a miracle would allow a boat like that to stay afloat in a storm of that magnitude) he spotted us as a speck on the horizon around dawn and rowed his way towards us. He finally reached our ship the following morning (aka, this AM), looking near dead from exhaustion and cold. The captain lowered pulleys and brought his entire dinghy on deck, pulling the poor man out with his own hands and wrapping him in warm blankets.

The man is in the sick bay now, under the care of our ship's doctor and nursing staff. I am pleased to be able to help the poor fellow, and sorry for his own troubles of losing his skiff, which is also his mode of livelihood; but having been put in charge of rationing both food and water for all of the passengers and crew of the Lillianna, I must say that I am more than slightly concerned. The individuals who stocked this ship certainly did not have an emergency such as this one in mind when they did it.

We were meant to be landing in Port Calveston in only slightly more than a week, less than a fortnight to be sure. I have been quite stringent in my rationing as I have no idea how long it will be before we are rescued, and as a result I believe that I am at the brunt end of some hard feelings. The crew and lower classes seem to understand the restrictions and accept them without complaint, but it is the higher class citizenry that may prove to be a problem. I refuse to give them special consideration in this matter.

I have no patience for arrogance in a situation like this. I expect the same treatment for every life aboard this ship; we will all suffer together, and we will die together if it comes to that. The one and only consideration that I have made was to urge the galley staff to reserve whatever canned milk that they have for the young children that are with us, regardless of class. As of yet the kitchen crew has been able to do an incredible job, even with my restrictions, and for that I am grateful. Their prowess is certainly helping me to stretch the supplies that we do have on hand.

I am to bed now, and pray God that some good news will greet us with the morning. ~