Blackwater Islands It all falls into the sea.

As the remnants of the storm dissipated, the man awoke again.
He had not slept through the entirety of the chaos; but when he had woken it was to howl and to shout in a way that rivaled the gale, making little sense with his sounds, a messy dance of writhing as he fought against his caretakers.
Someone had slipped him something to put him to sleep; it was familiar enough that it could have been poppy, and at such a dose that he lost himself for a time. They were not to know this castaway had a high tolerance to such things.
But yes, awake now — cotton-mouthed, black-eyed,
So, so, terribly lost.