Delirious, rocked by the ocean, he lies in an officer’s bed, quite senseless of the hands which replace upon his brow a cold rag. At times he moans, and she whose hands they are sits and listens to his cries. She hears his speech and wonders, for his addresses are to Death. She stares at his ugly, sunburnt face, whispering prayers for his life. Again, the rag is replaced. She brings a little water to his blistered lips. He sputters, but soon his breathing slows. A calmness comes over him, and the weary sailor passes into deep and peaceful sleep.
Drabble Series: Driftwood
Tale Told 