Ankomst by Gøhril Gabrielsen

Author:Gøhril Gabrielsen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Peirene Press
Published: 2020-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

The captain is busy loading the crates into the RIB as I park the scooter near the cabin. I wave and call out, and he returns my greeting with two fingers to his forehead. The full moon, combined with the high pressure, has caused an extremely low tide, exposing seaweed and kelp and pebbles. He drives the RIB as close as he can, but pulls up the engine as he approaches the shallows and hauls the boat further into land with an oar. The aluminium hull scrapes against the pebbles with such a loud clanking and grating that I shudder, unaccustomed as I am now to the metallic sounds of civilization.

I come down to join him and set to work. The urgency of the task precludes any pleasantries. The boat must be moored before it glides out with the tide. I take the rope, tie it to a rusty iron ring and then immediately wade out to the boat. The cold invades my boots. I have to keep moving so my toes and feet don’t freeze. I take the crates from him, barrels of water, petrol cans, and go back and forth across the shallows and up onto the shore as smoothly, as quickly, as I can. I notice a look in his eyes nonetheless, a scepticism mixed with a hint of concern. I’m still limping, despite my efforts to stride about normally, and there’s the gash on my cheek. No doubt he’s wondering what happened.

He swings himself out of the boat and, pulling his parka around him, takes the last box from the thwart, lifts it onto his shoulder and wades to the shore, from where I have started carrying the supplies into the shed. We work well together and after a few trips all the boxes are in place.

Coffee?

He nods, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. I feel the moisture trickle down my spine and the cold spread across my shirt. I am sweaty but also frozen to the marrow in my hands, legs and feet, and when I point to the door with a wizened finger and invite him into the warmth, my voice cracks like glass between my rattling teeth.

Safely indoors, I stoke up the stove, boil some water for coffee and put out a little selection from the fresh supplies: bread, butter, some cheese and jam. The captain is watching me with interest, so as I walk back and forth between the kitchen and living area I try again to move easily and normally. Unfortunately I knock into the rocking chair on the way to the kitchen counter and he’s instantly at my side, pointing at my foot and asking if I need help. I brush him off with a little laugh, saying that I’ve managed on my own this far. That’s clear, he answers quickly, before asking: How did it happen? Oh, there’s not much to tell, I reply with my back to him. One has to expect the occasional mishap.

Soon

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