Help at last

I fall sick the next day, as I had suspected I would, and Charles’s condition worsens. He drifts in and out of consciousness the whole day, his fever so bad that it almost feels like he would combust. That evening, I manage to get us some berries to eat. Charles refuses to have any, and no amount of cajoling and crying on my part would make him eat them. I’m too weak to husk any coconuts, so I manage to catch some crabs, but end up burning them when I tried to cook them.

The lack of food, appetite, and illness weakens us the more, and on the eleventh day after we find ourselves on the island, I’m so weak that I can’t stand again. I lay beside Charles, totally boneless and unable to do anything to help either of us, not that there is much to be done in the first place. He hasn’t spoken in two days, and the only time I hear anything from his mouth is when he mutters gibberish because of the fever, and when he moans because of the pain he’s passing through.

That night, I finally give up