5) I heard a knock. I called out, 'Yes' or 'You!' or 'Pustefix'. And someone tried to enter. The chair was now braced against an intruder. The door knob rattled again. Silence. Though the wind was driving the cold like bolts and nails, one of my natives was blown in on his feet through the deck door. I had not thought to lock it. He was cross. He placed my meal, by now very cold I am sure, on the table, removed the chair barring the door, and he took it with him as he left. Now I have nowhere to sit but on my bed or on the floor. No bother. Tomorrow we were to dock. I sat on the floor to eat what I could salvage. Another knock. Stupidly, I kicked my plate upside down getting up and stepped on a far flung slice of sturdy toast. I was barefoot. I don't sleep with my shoes on but keep them very near me. Whatever. I opened the door to find a bottle of French wine, a bright little Pouilly-Fuisse.
Chilled, naturally.
I thought my food ruined, but after half a bottle of this lovely white you can be sure I was down on all fours nibbling and snacking away. I dispatched the rest of the bottle in no time. I had just gotten up, maybe an hour before, yet I had already crammed in a day's activities and mentation. Gently swaying at my deck window I looked outside and thought I saw my wife floating on her back in the Murray Narrows. Was she with child? Was it mine? Good Lord. I've all day to tease it out. I must find more wine!