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.I turned to look at the Kanaks, slumped on the deck with their wounded friend prone between them.They gazed at their hands and dozed in the oppressive heat.I don't know if they saw me throw the pearls overboard, and if they did, they must have thought that I was making a sacrifice to a god not much different from theirs.But I hadn't done it to appease any god.I'd done it for myself, out of a sense of duty.The sun set just as it had every evening since the dead calm gripped us.That first night it had looked like a red bullet heading for my heart.Now it was even darker—not like blood, but like the bullet hole itself.The whole world was prey, killed by an unknown hunter.A crackling sound woke me.At first, still surfacing from sleep, I guessed fire had broken out on board, the heat having caused the Flying Scud to ignite spontaneously.Then I realized that it wasn't the crackling of dry wood ablaze but something slamming hard on the awning stretched above us.I raised myself on my elbow and felt a puff of air on my face.The wind was rising.And it was bringing rain.I stood by the rail and opened my mouth.Cold, heavy drops of water fell onto my face.They hit my shoulders and naked chest and a shudder passed through me, as if everything inside me was returning to life.I heard movement behind me and turned around.The Kanaks came over, supporting their wounded comrade.Together we stood along the rail and let the rain soak us.I'd never known real thirst before, and I've never felt grateful the way I did when those first drops of rain wetted my lips.I snapped at the air for more, and for a moment I forgot who I was.The sea began to stir and when the first waves lapped tentatively against the side of the ship, she reacted with a slight swaying, as if she had been long awaiting an invitation to start moving again.The first wave broke, its top glowing white in the moonlight, and the gaff above us flapped heavily in the wind.A storm was brewing.We bustled about, preparing the ship.The awning was sagging beneath the weight of the rainwater that had already collected in it: before we took it down, we filled our barrels.Our throats were no longer parched, but we hadn't eaten for days, and as we worked it was clear how weak we'd become.But no matter: not even the prospect of facing a storm with no provisions could dampen our joy at the return of the wind and the rain.Every time I yelled my orders through the resurrected wind that howled in the rigging, the Kanaks replied with the only words I ever heard them say in English—"Aye, aye, sir!"—like a chorus responding to a solo.It might sound strange—even reckless—to say that we sailed into the storm with exhilaration, but there's no other word to describe our mood as, utterly drenched, we watched the waves toss around us, sending up huge sheets of flying foam that merged sea and sky.We'd double-roped the flying jib, but soon we had to drop all but the foresail to prevent the mast and rigging from going overboard.I lashed myself to the wheel as the vast waves thundered over us, clearing the deck, from bow to stern, of anything that wasn't strapped down.I stayed there for two days.I could have ordered one of the Kanaks to relieve me every four hours, but I didn't.Not because I didn't trust them, but because I had something to prove to myself.I think they understood that.They'd stretched ropes across the deck to cling to when they moved around the ship, but most of the time they were lashed in place, like me.They'd tied the wounded man to the rigging where the waves couldn't reach him, and from time to time they'd climb up with a mug of water to wet his lips.One of them brought me water too.When a wave washed a tuna fish onto the deck, I took it as a sign.Before, the fish had stayed away; now they came to us.The sea was generous.In a brief break between two waves, one of the Kanaks hurled himself at the fish, slashed it with his knife, and brought me a hunk of live meat that still trembled in his hand.During the two days the storm lasted, I remained in a state of undiminished rapture.I stayed on my feet with the wheel in my hands, tied to my post by the rope.If I was tired, I never noticed.Finally, on the third day, the wind died down, so I untied the rope and allowed myself to be relieved.For a little while I just stood swaying on the deck—until suddenly exhaustion overwhelmed me.I thought I'd faint, and I had to return to the wheel to support myself, fixing my eyes on the deck as I tried to regain my balance.When I looked up again, the Kanaks had formed a circle around me [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]