the bulkhead on the far side of the cockpit. There were four of them. Stainless steel. At one time the benches had been covered with cushions and he could see the ties at the corner where they'd ripped away. At the bottom center of the bulkhead just above the seat there was a nylon strap sticking out, the end of it doubled and cross- stitched. He looked at the fasteners again. They were rotary latches with wings for your thumb. He got up and knelt at the bench and turned each one all the way to the left. They were springloaded and when he had them undone he took hold of the strap at the bottom of the board and pulled it and the board slid down and came free. Inside under the deck was a space that held some rolled sails and what looked to be a two man rubber raft rolled and tied with bungee cords. A pair of small plastic oars. A box of flares. And behind that was a composite toolbox, the opening of the lid sealed with black electrical tape. He pulled it free and found the end of the tape and peeled it off all the way around and unlatched the chrome snaps and opened the box. Inside was a yellow plastic flashlight, an electric strobebeacon powered by a drycell, a first-aid kit. A yellow plastic EPIRB. And a black plastic case about the size of a book. He lifted it out and unsnapped the latches and opened it. Inside was fitted an old 37 millimeter bronze flarepistol. He lifted it from the case in both hands and turned it and looked at it. He depressed the lever and broke it open. The chamber was empty but there were eight rounds of flares fitted in a plastic container, short and squat and newlooking. He fitted the pistol back in the case and closed and latched the lid.
He waded ashore shivering and coughing and wrapped himself in a blanket and sat in the warm sand in front of the fire with the boxes beside him. The boy crouched and tried to put his arms around him which at least brought a smile. What did you find, Papa? he said.
I found a first-aid kit. And I found a flarepistol.
What's that?
I'll show you. It's to signal with.
Is that what you went to look for?
Yes.
How did you know it was there?
Well, I was hoping it was there. It was mostly luck.
He opened the case and turned it for the boy to see.
It's a gun.
A flaregun. It shoots a thing up in the air and it makes a big light.
Can I look at it?
Sure you can.
The boy lifted the gun from the case and held it. Can you shoot somebody with it? he said.
You could.
Would it kill them?
No. But it might set them on fire.
Is that why you got it?
Yes.
Because there's nobody to signal to. Is there?
No.
I'd like to see it.
You mean shoot it?
Yes.
We can shoot it.
For real?
Sure.
In the dark?
Yes. In the dark.
It could be like a celebration.
Like a celebration. Yes.
Can we shoot it tonight?
Why not?
Is it loaded?
No. But we can load it.
The boy stood holding the gun. He pointed it toward the sea. Wow, he said.
He got dressed and they set out down the beach carrying the last of their plunder. Where do you think the people went, Papa?
That were on the ship?
Yes.
I dont know.
Do you think they died?
I dont know.
But the odds are not in their favor.
The man smiled. The odds are not in their favor?
No. Are they?
No. Probably not.
I think they died.
Maybe they did.
I think that's what happened to them.
They could be alive somewhere, the man said. It's possible. The boy didnt answer. They went on. They'd wrapped their feet in sailcloth and bound them up in blue plastic pampooties cut from a tarp and they left strange tracks in their comings and going. He thought about the boy and his concerns and after a while he said: You're probably right. I think they're probably dead.
Because if they were alive we'd be taking their stuff.
And we're not taking their stuff.
I know.
Okay.
So how many people do you think are alive?
In the world?
In the world. Yes.
I dont know. Let's stop and rest.
Okay.
You're wearing me out.
Okay.
They sat among their bundles.
How long can we stay here, Papa?
You asked me that.
I know.
We'll see.
That means not very long.
Probably.
The boy poked holes in the sand with his fingers until he had a circle of them. The man watched him. I dont know how many people there are, he said. I dont think there are very many.
I know. He pulled his blanket about his shoulders and looked out down the gray and barren beach.
What is it? the man said.
Nothing.
No. Tell me.
There could be people alive someplace else.
Whereplace else?
