Free A Dolphins Dream by Carlos Eyles

Bala and Adi spoke in whispered voices behind a hanging blanket that afforded them a small measure of privacy. In the silence of the hut the drone of the jungle insects rose to a grinding din. Compton, in his conflictive state, found comfort under the flimsy netting and, though missing the irony of his present circumstance or because of it, soon fell into deep sleep.
    At three o’clock in the morning Compton was awakened by the diabolical shriek of a rooster prematurely announcing the dawn. Again at four and five o’clock the rooster announced his presence and was joined by two others, all of whom dueled until the sun was well up.  Compton felt he had scarcely slept and when the roosters fell silent he drifted back into fitful sleep. He awoke later drugged by the depth of his slumber unsure of where he was or how long he had been asleep.  Upon regaining his bearings, he was astonished to learn it was nearly eleven o’clock in the morning.
    Breakfast of pawpaw, eggs, bread and tea were hot on the table when Compton came into the kitchen. Bala was by herself, offering no explanation as to the whereabouts of the others. Shortly after finishing breakfast Mariah came into the kitchen with an armful of vegetables, closely followed by Adi who was sweating profusely and caked with dirt. “Good morning, good morning. Did you sleep well?” inquired Mariah.
    “Very well, until the roosters started singing.”
    Mariah cackled. “The roosters take a turn in the morning. There is never a chance of waking late. The gardening must be done before it is hot. You are the first to sleep past six o’clock.”
    Compton said softly to himself as he rose from the table, ”And I’ll probably be the last.”
    Mariah overheard the mutter and said, “Probably,” and cocked an ear as if to hear him better.
    Embarrassed, Compton sheepishly grinned. “The breakfast was first rate, thank you. I think I’ll have a look around the place if you don’t mind.”
    “Yes, look around,” offered Mariah. “The toilet is down the path towards the sea. The small hut on the right.” 
    The path was bordered with exotic, brightly stippled flowers of delicate breeding and strange combinations of colors -- blue with orange, yellow with white and purples. The mangroves were to the left and to the right was dense jungle except for a section of land cleared for a stand of scaly trees heavy with the ripening, yellow papaya. He found the outhouse easily and at the sighting realized Mariah had anticipated his needs almost as if she were reading his thoughts.
    He returned from the outhouse and found Mariah sitting on a bench that looked out the open doorway past the wandering chickens to the dense mangroves. Feeling awkward, he assumed an air of indifferent casualness and sat down beside her.
    “ing is gaining and losing, eh,” she said wearily. “Gaining and losing, I never know which is better.” 
    Compton, in his discomfort, responded quickly, “Well, I’d guess that gaining is always better than losing.”
    Mariah looked at him with eyes filled in equal parts of sadness and wisdom and gave an ever so slight shrug of her weighted shoulders, along with a despondent sort of smile conveying her knowledge of his ignorance. The gesture, unlike the reply, did not go unnoticed and he vowed to keep his mouth shut when in doubt of the question much less an answer.
    They sat in a silence that rendered Compton to distraction, but he was not about to speak. She finally set her cup of tea down and tore an inch wide strip, six inches long from an old newspaper. Carefully laying a pinch of leaf tobacco down its center, she rolled a thin cigarette, lit it and sucked hard. “When I smoke this newspaper the words go inside me,“ she laughed, “but I never get any smarter.”
    Compton fielded this remark with more confidence reading it as an opportunity to exhibit his humility. “Well, I used to read words and believed they’d make me smarter. I’m not so sure