By first light Adam could see the rock clearly.
It was closer than a kilometre now, about the size of a supermarket car park.
The side facing him rose steeply from the water.
Birds covered the flat top and much of the grey rock below it.
He could hear them whenever the swell quietened.
The foam went past him toward the rock and a little to its left.
He watched it through several swells.
The current would carry him past, perhaps a hundred and fifty metres out.
His pole could not reach that far.
[Wooden Paddle: 3 Wood.]
He took the fence post and two short planks from the slot, laid them side by side and confirmed the recipe.
The planks softened and joined the post.
One end flattened into a broad blade; the other rounded into a grip.
Five minutes later the paddle was finished.
It was heavier than the pole and easier to hold.
[Wooden Paddle: 100/100.]
He ate the two raw fish before they spoiled.
Then he filled the intake with half a bucket, wedged the bottles in their corner and put the hook pole where he would not step on it.
He knelt at the front right corner and put the paddle in the water.
The raft turned away from each stroke.
Four pulls on the right swung the nose left; three on the left brought it back.
Changing sides took most of the work.
He tried paddling harder on one side, but that only turned him farther from the rock.
He shortened his strokes and switched sides sooner.
The raft began to cross the foam line instead of following it.
He gained little ground while the raft rose on each wave.
As it dropped, he pulled hard before the next one came.
His shoulders ached first, then his forearms.
Soon he felt the two raw fish sitting heavily in his stomach.
The rock was close enough for him to see individual birds landing.
The foam passed along its side.
Thirty metres remained.
[Stamina 30%]
His Stamina was low, but the raft was close.
He paddled the last thirty metres, changing sides whenever the nose turned away.
The water was calmer around the right side of the rock.
He paddled in and caught a piece of rock that stuck out at head height.
Foam moved past faster than the rock drifted.
The rope would have to hold the raft against that current.
He tied his one good rope around the projecting rock.
The raft pulled the rope tight and settled on the sheltered side, bumping the rock with each swell.
He waited through three bumps before he stood.
The boards stayed level, but the gap between raft and rock opened and closed by half a metre.
He jumped when it narrowed and caught the lowest step with both hands.
The birds had noticed him some time ago.
Now they came down.
The first bird hit him before he was off the raft.
A grey gull, bigger than the white ones, struck the top of his head from behind.
He did not see whether its feet or beak had caught him.
His hand came away bloody.
The smaller white birds dived at his face and pulled away just before they hit.
He climbed with one arm over his eyes.
Another grey gull cut the back of his right hand.
He tucked that hand under his jacket and climbed with the other.
The sheltered side had wide steps he could climb.
Birds nested all along them.
Each nest was a shallow scrape in the white droppings, lined with feathers and dried weed.
Eggs lay in most of them.
Some eggs were no bigger than the top of his thumb, pale brown with darker spots.
Others were nearly the size of hen’s eggs.
He picked up one of the larger eggs.
The panel labelled it Egg, and the inventory showed Eggs, 1.
Its parent stood a metre away with its wings half open and screamed at him.
When he reached for the next nest, the gull lunged.
He pulled back before its beak reached his fingers.
It stayed beside the eggs, so he moved farther along the step.
He took one egg from each nest of three and left the smaller nests alone.
His right hand hurt whenever he opened it, so he used his left.
At the seventh nest a grey gull landed behind him and drove him down against the rock.
He covered his head until it flew off.
The egg he had been holding was still whole.
He took two more, then stopped.
Nine eggs were enough to carry back without staying beneath the birds any longer.
Feathers lay everywhere.
He gathered a handful of soft down and long white feathers and put them in the inventory.
The panel counted them as Feathers.
He did not read the number.
He was kneeling in a thick layer of bird droppings.
The top had dried into a pale crust; underneath it was dark and damp.
He touched it, and the panel identified it.
[Guano.
Fertiliser.
Requires: container.]
Both bottles were full of water.
He went down to the raft and chose the dented green one for guano; the clear bottle still fitted under the purifier’s spout.
He drank the green bottle rather than throw out its water.
It was warm and tasted of plastic.
He put the empty bottle in his jacket and climbed back up.
He scraped guano into the bottle with a strip of steel.
The dry crust broke into pieces too large for the neck.
He set those aside and used the damp material underneath, feeding it in a little at a time.
A gull struck his hood and knocked the bottle against the rock.
He caught it before it rolled down the step, then wedged it between his knees while he worked.
Nearly an hour later the panel read Bottle: Guano (1 L).
The sheltered side had caught driftwood.
Boards and broken lengths were stuck in cracks near the water and along the lowest step.
He pulled out what he could with his uninjured hand and passed each piece down to the raft.
The first board missed.
It struck the raft’s edge and fell back into the water.
He waited for the raft to swing close before dropping the next piece.
When he had a small pile aboard, he climbed down and stored the wood before a wave could wash it off.
The inventory showed Wood, 8.
A thick beam remained jammed in a crack near the water.
He tried to lift one end, but it did not move.
His hand hurt, and he was too tired to keep pulling at it.
He tried to untie the raft.
The wet knot had pulled tight, and his sore fingers could not loosen it.
He sawed through the rope with the edge of the drum plate.
The loop stayed around the rock; the rest came free, shorter and frayed.
[Rope: 1.
Durability: 70/100.]
He pushed off with the paddle.
The current pulled the raft away before he could make a stroke.
The paddle read 96/100.
He watched the bird-covered rock shrink behind him.
The purifier’s trough had overflowed while he was away.
His clear bottle was still full, so he drank the water left in the trough.
The two fish on the back wall were dark and hard after two days in the sun.
The panel labelled them Silverfish (Dried) and said they would keep for thirty days.
He put them in the inventory with the eggs.
[Health 91% | Hunger 62% | Thirst 94% | Stamina 22%]
[Conditions: Laceration ×2]
His scalp and hand were cut.
He dipped the hand in seawater.
It stung.
The cut on the back was still bleeding a little.
He had nothing clean to cover it with.
He opened Chat and typed a question.
[Kessler] Found guano on a rock covered in birds.
Panel says fertiliser.
Anyone know what it goes with?
Seabird Waters.
[DELL] fertiliser for what, mate, your raft?
The replies came quickly.
Most people laughed, and one asked whether he planned to grow potatoes in his boots.
Nobody answered the question.
Adam closed Chat with the bottle of guano beside him.