Practice of crabs

"The Practice of Crabs"

I am not in the business or practice of determining the gender of
crabs.

Instead, I purchase from the market a basket of ten live crabs,
coral-coloured and twitching. I trust that within each basket, there
will be at least one possible crustacean couple. I used to buy
chickens, but they are not as hardy and more expensive.

I keep the crabs in their basket, fixed to my boat with a rope, to keep
them cool and contented dipped into the sea. As always, I have my
maps.

Take a fistful of sugar and throw it onto a cricket pitch, from as high
as you can. The pitch is the sea and each grain is an island. That's a
decent enough comparison, on size and how hard they are to find. The
maps I've made are better than any you can buy.

I have walked on ground no other man has trod upon. I have mapped and
sketched, taken measurements and drawn up my plans. At present, I am
six days from any mainland. The sky looks so different when there is
only the sea to compare it with.

There are essentials. Firstly, the plastic sheeting. There is nothing
more useful. A groundsheet, a cover for bad weather, a device for
catching rainfall to drink, or in worse situations, for trapping dew.
Also, it will keep dry what meagre possessions one might have.

Water, three bottles. This will become brackish over time and will not
keep indefinitely, but believe me, there would become a time when you
would be glad of it. Two packets of water purification tablets, that
will enable a person to drink salt-water safely. Even once the bottled
water has been drunk, the bottles will be useful.

A mirror, a flat gold Zippo lighter. I keep the lighter wrapped in a
plastic bag, to make sure it remains in working order. Whatever you may
have seen about lighting a fire, it is easier if you have a
lighter.

One knife. I used to get Swiss-Army knives imported, but it proved
costly and my thinking eventually was that the only blade that was
really useful was the sharp knife. One axe, to do everything that the
knife cannot. One spade - can be used to dig for water, to hollow out a
bivouac, to make a latrine. One long coil of rope.

I also take some crops. Potatoes, carrots, sweet peas. I'm never
certain that they will grow, untended, but I will plant them,
nevertheless. Originally, I left seed-packets, but I was unsure of
whether this would work.

The process gets refined over time. I used to leave a bag of sugar, but
then I worried that ants would get into it and spoil it. I now leave
foil-wrapped bags of peanuts. The salt is not too good, makes you more
thirsty, but they are transportable and good for energy. I also leave
some paper sachets of sugar, just for good measure. These are free, I
take them when I have coffee in a cheap restaurant. I'm hardly on the
mainland these days.

My crabs and I, we have six of these packs for this journey. There are
six baskets of crabs tied to my boat, ten in each basket.

I steer the boat towards one of the tiny islands I have marked on my
map. I make the boat safe and use the rowing boat to get to shore with
a basket of crabs beside me, together with all of the other
equipment.

Look for some shelter, somewhere dry and I leave the equipment, stake
the plastic sheeting down to cover what I have left. I plant the crops
nearby and mark that I have done so.

Once I've done, I take one of my maps, a copy and I mark on it the
location of the island I'm standing on and how far it is in each
direction to the nearest inhabited island. I also write my name and
address, just in case anyone ever wants to say thank you.

Open up the basket and lay it on its side, the crabs crawl out angrily
and make their way across the beach. I can't tell if these crabs will
populate the island, providing a source of meat, but I have done all I
can.

If anyone washes ashore on any of my islands, they will have been given
the best chance of survival. One day, I will receive a grateful letter
and meet up with someone whose life has been saved by my foresight.