Miro looked around, giving the island a full examination for the first time. Further up from the shoreline, thick brush came down to the sand, a horde of spiky trees with gnarled trunks. He could see the land rising behind the trees, but it was difficult to tell how big the island was. The beach continued ahead to a rocky promontory, where gulls wheeled above the headland. Behind them, the opposite end of the small bay could be judged by a long stretch of rock.
The channel through which the galleon had entered was marked by water that was a deeper shade of blue. The lagoon was calm, but behind the reef the waves were huge.
Aside from the sound of tumbling waves, the cries of gulls, and the ocean breeze rustling in the trees, there was silence. Their voices jarred against the sound of nature. Miro had the feeling that even if people had once been here, they hadn't been here in a very long time.
The rock at both ends of the beach was a strange shade of red, the colour of rust. Miro now knew how Toro Marossa had come up with the name, Ochre Isles.
"Here, help me out," Amber said.
"Of course." Miro held out a hand and Amber stepped out of the longboat.
"It feels good to have solid ground beneath my feet again. Lord of the Sky, what a journey."
Miro wondered what he could have done differently.
"How will we get back?" Amber asked. "What about Tomas?"
"I'll find a way," Miro said, "I promise. For now, though, we need to think about survival. Here, help me pull the longboat further up the beach."
It took a mighty struggle, but finally Miro was satisfied they'd pulled it farther than could be reached by the highest tide. They went back for the barrels, stacking them in a row alongside.
Puffing and panting after their exertions, Miro and Amber both drank some of the water, cupping it in their hands.
They were now closer to the trees. Miro took the oars and the square of canvas out of the longboat. "We need to make a shelter while we have plenty of daylight ahead of us. Help me find a clearing with some thick branches overhead. And, Amber?"
"Yes?"
"Keep an eye out for people."
Miro searched for a suitable clearing while Amber also looked a small way away.
"How's this?" Amber called.
Miro came over to where Amber stood in a patch of sand underneath the spread arms of a huge tree. The lower branches were the height of Miro's head. "Perfect," Miro said.
He went back for the axe, and then trimmed the horizontal branches to remove the drooping foliage. Miro then used the axe to dig holes and planted the six oars in a row, with Amber assisting.
While Miro draped the canvas over the branches to make an improvised roof, Amber disappeared with the axe, returning with a willowy sapling she'd felled. It was long and thin, with green leaves and an easy spring. Amber threaded the sapling through the oars and then went back for another. Soon, she'd formed a wall.
Miro finished tying down the canvas and stood back to regard the shelter.
It was basic, with just the one wall and a roof, but it was something.
"Where will we put the kitchen?" Amber asked.
Miro turned to her and barked a laugh. Amber smiled and Miro put an arm around her.
They went back to the beach and searched the washed up clothing, salvaging a hemp sack and a sailor's woollen vest. Miro was hanging them on the branches of a tree to dry in the sun when he heard a cry.
His sword in his hand, he ran back down to the beach.
Amber stood in water to her knees, gingerly trying to take hold of a body that had come in with the tide. The sailor was floating on his stomach. Miro waded into the shallows and Amber stood back while he rolled the man over. The man's eyes stared wide, but he'd evidently drowned, escaping the sharks. Miro didn't recognise him.
"What should we do?" Amber said.
"Go back to the shelter," said Miro. "Leave it with me."
Miro dragged the body up onto the beach and then further, until he was up at the trees a fair distance from the shelter. He didn't relish this task, but while he wore a shirt and trousers, Amber still wore only a nightdress.
Miro stripped the man's shirt and leggings from him, hanging them on a tree nearby. He began to dig at the sandy ground, and kept digging until sweat dripped down his brow and his arms ached.
When he was done burying the body, Miro took the dead man's clothes back to the shelter, hanging them with the vest and sack.
Amber had been busy making a mat of thick fronds. She'd also rolled a log to the shelter, and was now sitting on it.
"You look exhausted," Amber said. "Sit down, here, have some dried figs."
Miro seated himself and then spoke while he ate. "Our needs are water, food, shelter, warmth and rescue. We now have clothing and if we tear that sack open we can improvise a blanket. Warmth shouldn't be a problem. It doesn't seem to be cold in these parts. Rescue, on the other hand, is out of the question. The only way we'll get off this island is if we do it ourselves. Which brings me to the next imperative — exploration."
"We should split up," Amber said.
Miro opened his mouth to object.
"You know we should. There's a whole island to explore, and we need to cover ground as quickly as possible. I can take the sword, while you take the axe."