A Long Stay Ashore
A woman and her fiance become castaways of a different sort...
“Addy, Addy!”
Adelaine wasn’t aware of much, other than she was prone and her head pounded fiercely. Slowly, her senses came around: bright daylight crept into her pupils as she fluttered her eyelids, and her mouth tasted like salt and sand.
“Addy, are you alright?”
Gentle hands grasped at her shoulders and coaxed her to sit up. She coughed, clearing her throat of sea water. Finally, with some effort, Adelaide opened her eyes. Benjamin’s worried blue eyes stared transfixed back to her face, searching for recognition.
Her coughing fit through, she strained to get out, “Ben! Oh, Ben, you’re safe,” grabbing her fiance as he pulled her into a long hug. Her dress clung to his shirt with a saturated squelch as little pebbles and bits of sand rolled off her back.
“What happened, Ben dear, where are we?”
“I’m not sure, love. The storm must have taken the ship, but I must admit I don’t remember much. I think we’re on some sort of island. Do you feel alright to stand? We ought to go find some help, quickly.”
Adelaide nodded and Ben helped her up to her feet. The Cunard liner was nowhere in sight and the horizon offered nothing more than endless green rollers working their way to crashing upon the shore.
The dregs of storm and shipwreck were all around: cracked ceramic dinner plates, a chest of drawers, and a lady’s parasol, apparently new and unused, still wrapped in a pink bow. They all looked frightfully out of place, intermingled with great lumps of jellyfish, their translucent flesh baking in the rising heat of the sun.
Further up the beach, shoots of grass broke through the dunes and carved out a trail leading up the bank and out of sight.
“Ben, look, there’s a path up there. Do you suppose there is a town?”
“It could be. Come, let’s see if we can’t find a place to stay or some dry clothes.”
Miss Adelaide Thompson, age 26, soon to become Mrs. Benjamin Hayles. Until very recently a contented first-class passenger on an ocean liner bound for a destination wedding and honeymoon. In just a brief moment, Miss Thompson will find her willpower tested by a quaint little Edwardian era town with all the trimmings and trappings of the perfect summer. A vacation destination that’s perhaps just a little too comfortable for comfort. You see, Miss Adelaide Thompson has just washed ashore on an island she won’t find on any map, for it exists only in the furthest reaches off the end of the world…in the Deadlight Zone.
Beyond the beach, the path was tree-lined, full of cypress firs and stout shrubs, and the young couple kept spirits up by small-talking and holding hands as they walked.
Abruptly, the path widened and the firs gave way to a picturesque view of a small town. The street was neatly kept and lined with parked carriages, although there wasn’t a horse in sight. Tidy shops and storefronts continued up the main boulevard ahead of the couple. At the top of a distant hill, a wide inn rested atop its wraparound porch.
It was idyllic, the sort of island town one wanted to spend the whole summer vacationing on. For a brief moment, Adelaide considered that she may be happy honeymooning here, given she had already returned home and had a proper wedding with her family witnessing.
“My, it is picturesque, Addy” Ben started, and then with a jerk of her hand interjected, “Why, but where are all the people?”
He was right. She scanned the whole of the street, stoop to stoop and porch to porch. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Not in front of the general store, or sitting upon any of the carriages.
Then Adelaide turned her attention, somewhat fixated, on the inn. She grew more attracted to it the longer she looked at it. Its architect had done it up in the Queen Anne’s style, and beneath every window hung a flag and a planter. And on the porch—people!
“Ben, Ben dear look over there! There’s people sitting!”
There indeed were people gently rocking back and forth on chairs on the extensive front porch of the inn. She broke into a run and Ben, saying nothing, joined in the sprint. Adelaide’s feet, aching and scraped up by the dirt lane, at last carried her up the front steps of the inn.
A spectacled, thick-set man with a puffy cheeks tilted his head at Adelaide.
“You look like you just went for a swim,” he remarked, gesturing at her clothes, still plastered to her skin with seawater.
“What?” she stammered, surprised by the comment. “We were shipwrecked, we don’t know where we are. Can you help us?”
“Shipwrecked you say?” he muttered, almost to himself, stroking his chin and rocking.
Ben interjected, “Yes, man, I’m afraid it’s quite dire, you see, we’ve lost all our things. We don’t know if there are others—Do you know if there was a rescue ship? Will it be back to pick us up?”
“Oh, there’ll be another ship along soon. This is a nice place to stay.”
Before they could continue, a dapper gentleman with a thinly waxed mustache stepped onto the porch through the double doors. He bowed slightly, and greeted Adelaide and her fiance with some ceremony.
“Greetings, dear guests, my name is Redvers, and I shall be your hotelier,” here he paused, looking somewhat serious as he studied the couple’s clothes and Addy’s bare feet, before continuing, “Dear me, it appears that you are in some distress.”
Adelaide jumped in, “Yes, Mister Redvers, please you must help us, we’ve been shipwrecked.”
“Shipwrecked, you say? Oh dear me, that is dire.”
“Could you be so kind as to put us up? I’m afraid we’ve lost our things and haven’t any money,” Ben added.
“My dear couple, please come in, you stay as long as you like. Here, let me draw up some hot water for you and we’ll get you some dry clothes.” Their host bid the couple into the inn and began to fuss about making them comfortable.
The inn was as beautiful inside as it was outside. Adelaide felt far more comfortable here than on the disastrous beach or in the barren town. Perhaps it was just a very lazy seaside town, she thought to herself. As it was, it mattered little as she settled into a hot bath and scrubbed the brine off.
Dinner, too, was exquisite. Adelaide didn’t want to be a bother, but by the time they arrived downstairs Redvers had everything laid out for them. She and Ben each had their fill and then some, chatting with the other guests as they ate. They forgot their troubles long enough for Ben to even partake in a little cognac.
At one point he leaned over to his table mate, the same bespectacled man from the porch who they now knew as Emerton. As it turned out he owned the general store in town, although he didn’t spend much time manning his store, for he couldn’t detail precisely the last time he had been behind the counter.
“I’m a collector of used books, you know. Tomes, almanacs, sometimes rare first editions. Everyone in this town is a collector of something. It’s a sort of trend, you know,” he would carry on.
Addy chuckled at the idea, replying, “And what does Redvers collect I wonder?”
At this, Mr. Emerton yawned, hardly covering his mouth, before answering, “Well, as a hospitality man, I suppose you could say he collects people.”
Before the clock struck ten, night had fallen, and fireflies were dotting the lawn and street before the inn. The rolling of the waves lulled Adelaide to sleep in the finely-appointed four-poster of their room. With Ben’s arm around her, she was sound asleep instantly.
The next morning, Adelaide made a point to seek out Redvers and offer him her gratitude.
“Madame, the pleasure is all mine in being able to serve you. If there is anything at all I can do to assist you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Actually, Redvers, do you know when we may expect the next ship? You see, Ben and I are traveling for our wedding, and our families will be expecting us.”
“Oh, there’ll be another one along soon. In the meantime, please make yourselves comfortable and do not hesitate to ask for anything.”
It didn’t matter who Addy asked, she always go the same answer. There was Jeffries, the game hunter, who had been at the inn for several months now resting on his around the world expedition. And Mrs. Partridge, who was just vacationing before going to see her son, although she couldn’t remember when or where she was to meet up with him.
Adelaide found it peculiar that nobody in the inn seemed in a particular hurry to go anywhere or do anything. It was a wonderful place to rest, sure, but she imagined one would get bored of it after a while. Ben didn’t seem to mind, taking to reading on the porch or sitting in the smoking room with the other gentlemen.
As the hours passed on, she wondered whether there would be another ship. Regardless, she wanted to be ready for it. As she bedded down for the evening, Adelaide committed herself to checking out as soon as possible, and finding her own way off the island with Ben. She felt uneasy, but Ben seemed less and less bothered the more he enjoyed himself.
The next morning, Adelaide made her way to the front porch again. Ben was already sitting down in a rocking chair, reading. She took up a chair next to him, trying to start conversation about leaving the inn, but finding some difficulty in interrupting his studies.
At length, Ben lifted his nose up from his almanac, his reading glasses sliding down a bit. His eyes looked wide, even shocked, but he calmly and cordially prompted Adelaide as if he were making small talk.
“Looks like a steamer out there, Addy, just offshore.”
Her heart leapt into her throat. Ben, we need to go now, let’s catch it! Adelaide tried to say the words, to shout them, to scream them with all the air in her lungs, but her voice failed. All that came out was, “Oh, don’t worry Ben dear, there’ll be another one along soon.”
“This is a nice place to stay,” he added, his eyes growing puffy and wet.
A nice place to stay? Her legs and arms made no attempt to move, but instead sat comfortably crossed and showed no sign of agitation. Within, her mind called out with ferocity, begging her to move, scream, anything.
Redvers rounded the corner, and she looked up at him with plaintive eyes, pleading eyes. Yet she smiled despite herself.
“Is everything to your satisfaction, Miss Thompson?” he asked with a small bow.
“Oh yes, thank you Redvers, everything is just delightful.” What was she saying? She fought to bury the words, but they spilled out uncontrollably.
“Excellent, madame, I do hope you will stay with us for a while. For as long as you wish.” At this, he flashed a wicked smile, turned on his heel, and trotted off to serve his other guests.
An island, a town, and an inn. The sort of thing you’d read about in a brochure. One of the many rooms here is occupied by one Miss Adelaide Thompson, a guest just as much of her cushioned Victorian suite as the padded cell of her mind. Here, her journey comes to an end. Not violently at the tragic sinking of a ship. Miss Thompson’s existence will now forevermore be marked by the sinking sensation of being out of control of one’s own actions. Miss Adelaide Thompson, adrift and without a rudder in…The Deadlight Zone.
This post was a part of Nat 1 Publishing’s Summer Court writing challenge! You can read the final, edited draft in their published anthology and participate in the challenge every year on Discord.