Where I Was Eaten

Dufresne and Baudin stare gloomily out at the harbour.

Our vessel is not going to appear, says Baudin.

You're right. says Dufresne. We must be proactive.

Yes, proactive, says Baudin. 

I have an idea, says Dufresne. We head for the nearest beach and check out the seaweed.

You think we might come across a giant kelp? says Baudin.

We might, says Dufresne. Failing that, some other random flotsam.

A good plan, says Baudin. Do you know where the nearest beach is?

Let me think, says Dufresne. It was different, when I was last here.

Of course it was, says Baudin. How long were you here before the Maoris decided to eat you?

Several hours, says Dufresne. I think it happened some small distance west of this location.

He remembers the bay, how it looked then. 

And the nice little beachlet.

Just big enough to walk your dog on.

Or photograph the sunset.

Not that he did those things then.

Over there is a nice little beachlet, says Dufresne, pointing.

It's good to have local knowledge, says Baudin.

Priceless, says Dufresne.

They wander off westwards and soon find the nice little beachlet which nowadays is called Westhaven Beach, and which Dufresne thinks of as Ou J'etais Mangé.

It is strewn with seaweeds, green, brown and red. Bull kelps and bladder kelps. Some with stalks which at a pinch could serve as a mast or a rudder. But not both, unless you could somehow tack two kelps together........