J.M.J.

Author's note: Thank you for continuing to read! Thanks especially to those who have left reviews! The next chapter will be up tomorrow. God bless!

June 22 – Thursday

Dawn came before many hours had passed, and by that time, all six friends were awake. They drank deeply from the stream and then discussed how best to go about searching for food and help. In the end, they decided to follow the stream inland and see what they found along it.

The stream was well-shaded by the thick vegetation that grew around it, so they didn't have the sun beating on them again. Even so, the humidity made it miserable and they were already weak, so they moved slowly and halted frequently to rest.

During one of their rests, Tony pointed out a tree off to the left. "Is that a papaya tree?"

"Yes, it is!" Chet said in elation.

He wasted no time in getting to his feet and rushing at the tree, which had several fruits hanging from its branches. The other boys were right behind him. To their relief, they saw that there were several other papaya trees around it. The thick rinds on the fruit only caused them a mild inconvenience. Hungry as the boys were, they had no qualms about ripping into the fruits with teeth and fingernails.

The fruit did little to satisfy their hunger. In fact, it was only enough to make them begin feeling hungry again. But the fruit that was ripe and within reach was soon gone. The trees were too slender to climb, so the boys had no choice but to go on. Tony paused as his friends started onward.

"Is something the matter?" Biff asked him, turning to look at him as the others paused as well.

"Um, well," Tony said, suddenly getting a bit red in the face. "I was just thinking…I should have thought of it before…But it is pretty incredible that we got out of that back there and got to this island and there's food and fresh water on it. I don't know about the rest of you, but I haven't even thought of it until just now to be grateful for it."

"You're right," Frank replied quickly and the others nodded.

They knelt down and bowed their heads, but they only prayed silently. Everyone felt too awkward to say anything aloud, but that made their gratitude no less fervent, now that it had been pointed out to them that gratitude was owed.

When they stood up again, they continued following the stream. They found a few other types of fruit that they recognized as being edible and that encouraged them. Not only did it give them something to eat now, but it also promised that they wouldn't run short of food in the days to come. None of them dared think far beyond that. They hoped they wouldn't have to worry about food and water on this island for very long.

The island was small, but not tiny. The boys had no way of measuring it just yet, but in the days to come they would estimate it to be about two-and-a-half miles wide and six miles long. Its length spread north and south, and there were two large hills toward the northern end. The southern end was mostly flat. The western side had several beaches interspersed with rocky shorelines and even small cliffs. The eastern side was yet to be explored. Thick vegetation grew on most of it, and there were several streams that had their sources in springs on the hills. The stream that they were following now took them inland and northward, and so they walked several miles without seeing beyond the vegetation on either side.

Finally, as they neared the foot of the southernmost hill, they all saw it at once: a cabin set so deeply into the surrounding vegetation that for a moment it looked like it was part of it. They stared for a minute or so, hardly daring to believe it, but it was there. Better still, it was built just like any cabin in the United States or Europe might have been, which meant it was built by someone who had to have some kind of contact with the outside world. With a whoop of joy, the boys rushed on it.

It wasn't until they were practically at the door that they realized something was wrong. The door had half-fallen from its hinges, so that it was only hanging on by the bottom hinge. The overgrowth all around the cabin extended inside it. The boys slowed their pace as they neared it.

"No one's been here for years," Chet said glumly.

"It looks that way," Frank agreed.

Joe was the first to reach the doorway and he peered inside. It was a small cabin with a dirt floor. A crude bunk was against one wall with a pile of rotting blankets on it. There were also several chests, professionally made, along the walls, and a badly-made table and chair in the middle of the room. Miscellaneous items, including cans of food, were scattered on the table and floor. Joe went straight for the nearest can of food and scooped it up. It was chicken soup.

"It's expired, but the can looks okay. As long as it's not damaged, it's probably safe to eat," he announced. "If there's a can opener around here somewhere, we'll be in good shape."

"Someone must have expected to be here a long time, judging from how many cans of food are here," Biff commented as he came into the room.

"There might be something useful in the chests, too," Phil said, heading toward the nearest one.

"I suppose everything on the bed must be rotted," Tony said.

He went to the bed and pulled one of the blankets back. He gasped and jumped back at what he saw underneath.

"What is it?" Frank asked.

He came to look and saw a human skull resting on the rodent-gnawed pillow underneath. The others ventured closer to look, and they also froze in shock.

"Maybe we'd better get out of here," Chet suggested, breaking the silence.

Frank shook himself. "No, there's no need for that. He must have been dead for years."

"Yeah, but what did he die of?" Chet asked.

"I don't know that we can find out at this point." Frank began pulling the blanket farther back but then he stopped. "You guys might not want to look."

"It's probably okay," Joe said. "There are probably any number of flesh-eating bugs on an island like this."

"Thanks a lot, Joe, that's a comfort," Chet replied dryly.

Frank continued pulling the blanket back. "He's right. The bones are clean and obviously no large animals got at him. That's something. It means there probably aren't any predators on the island."

"Unless he died of some horrible tropical disease and no animals wanted to touch him," Joe pointed out.

"Like I said, thanks a lot, Joe," Chet said with a cringe.

Frank pulled the blanket back so that the skeleton was fully uncovered. "Look at that." He pointed to the left leg. There was a jagged break in it that went nearly all the way through the bone.

"He had a broken leg?" Phil said.

"That's probably what happened to him," Frank explained. "He must have been here by himself and broke his leg. It looks like a bad break, and it must have gotten infected."

"I wonder if there's anything around here that could tell us who he was and why he was here," Biff said, glancing around.

"There might be something in one of the trunks," Phil suggested.

"But what are we going to do with him?" Chet nodded at the skeleton.

"There's only one thing we can do," Frank replied. "We'll have to bury him. Look. He's got a shovel over in that corner there."

"I'll start digging," Chet offered, rushing over to grab the shovel. Physical labor didn't usually appeal to him, but staying in the same room as the skeleton was even worse. He hurried outside and set to work.

Tony, Biff, and Phil began searching for some clue as to the unfortunate castaway's identity. Joe was about to join them, but Frank gestured for him to stay back.

"We're in big trouble, Joe," Frank said in an undertone.

"You don't say," Joe replied dryly.

Frank nodded toward the bed. "How long do you think this guy's been here?"

Joe shrugged. "I don't know. His food's about five years out of date, so definitely that long, at least."

"Exactly, and nobody's found him yet."

Joe let out a long breath. "In other words, it could be a while before anyone happens by here."

"And nobody has any idea where we're at except for the guys who were trying to kill us." Frank shook his head. "I doubt they're going to send a rescue party."

"So everyone's going to be looking for us back in Hawaii with no idea that we got taken out in a boat to get dumped in the ocean." Joe paused. "And if anyone does find out about that, they'll just assume we're dead."

"Yeah." Frank bit his lip.

"What are we going to do?"

"There's not a whole lot we can do," Frank admitted. "We've just got to try to stay alive and see if we can get help somehow. We can try all the usual things, of course, like signal fires."

"A message in a bottle," Joe said with a wry grin.

Frank also grinned. "We'd need a bottle for that. But seriously, this is going to be rough. We've got to get along and keep morale up. Talking about tropical diseases and flesh-eating bugs is not going to help with either of those things."

"Right," Joe agreed. "But we're going to talk about all this with the other guys, right?"

"Obviously. I'm sure they're already putting it together themselves. We'll have to all talk about it, though, to make sure we're all on the same page."

Joe glanced at the skeleton. "Do you really think he died of a broken leg?"

"Probably. But even if he did have some disease, nothing here would still be infectious after all this time. We're going to need the supplies in this cabin."

"The stuff in these chests is in pretty good condition, considering," Biff said from where he was kneeling next to one of the chests. He held up a hammer and a pair of pliers. "This one has some rope and tools in it. Oh! And look at this: matches! And some oil lamps with oil. And two fishing poles and line, hooks, and lures."

"This one just has clothes," Phil said. "Which is a little morbid, but depending on how long we're here…"

"Are they any good?" Frank asked, coming over to inspect them.

Phil held up a stained, ragged shirt. "Not much."

"Well, we'll probably need some patches," Frank said. "We'll need needle and thread, too, I guess."

Phil picked up a zippered case and opened it. There were an assortment of needles and pins, small spools of various basic colors of thread, a small scissors, and a small pincushion. "A sewing kit. This should do it."

"What do you have, Tony?" Joe asked.

"A lot of odds and ends," Tony replied. "Dishes, silverware, pencils, a bunch of little model boats that look like someone hand-carved them, mosquito netting, books—looks like mostly notebooks…wait!" He pulled out a thick and well-worn volume. "A Bible. That's good. There are a few other books in here, too. Old paperback novels. Mostly westerns, from the looks of it. Looks like they were all pretty well-preserved in this chest."

"Hey, guys!" Chet appeared in the doorway of the cabin, the shovel still in one hand. The other had couple of carrots. "It looks like this guy had a garden. There's still a bunch of vegetables growing out there: carrots and onions and potatoes and corn."

"All right!" Joe said in relief. "We've got just about everything we need, then."

"Everything except a way off this island," Biff replied glumly.

"I don't know about that," Phil said. "This guy was pretty well-prepared. Maybe he wasn't stranded here, after all. He might have come here to be a hermit, and so there might be a boat somewhere."

"Possibly," Frank agreed. "If there is, we'll have to fix it up, I'm sure. We'll look for it and explore the island some more another time. It's going to be dark before too long, and since we have food, fresh, and shelter here, I think we'd better stay here. Besides, we need to rest awhile after what we've been through."

"Here?" Chet protested. "In the same house where that guy died and has been just lying there all these years?"

"We'll bury him and get rid of the bed and the blankets," Frank said.

"Yeah, but…" Chet shook his head.

"I've got to admit," Phil added, "it would feel a lot like camping out in a tomb."

"I know. I get it," Frank replied. "I wouldn't want to under other circumstances, but we don't have a lot of choice here. Joe, back me up here."

"You mean, I can't side with Chet and Phil?" Joe asked with a grin. "Seriously, though, Frank's right. Even if we're stuck here long-term, we'd never be able to build something as sturdy as this, once we make some repairs on it, anyway. None of us have to like it, but it does make the most sense."

"Besides, if the guy who built this place had any say in the matter, he'd probably tell us to go ahead and use the cabin and his supplies," Biff added. "They're not doing him any good, and they will do us a lot of good."

"What do you say, Tony?" Frank asked.

Tony stuck his hands in his pockets. "Any other time, I'd be on Phil and Chet's side here, but the rest of you guys have a good point. I guess we really don't have a choice."

"Then that's settled," Frank said. "Are you two going to be all right with this?"

Phil and Chet glanced at each other.

"I guess like the rest of you said, we don't have a choice," Phil said without enthusiasm.

Chet only nodded.

"All right, then," Frank said. "Joe, how about you and I take over digging from Chet? The rest of you can work on getting some dinner together. Let's not use any of the canned food unless we have to and even then, only after we've thoroughly examined the can to make sure it's intact."

Chet volunteered to gather vegetables, while the others gathered firewood and tried to build a fire. Chet hadn't begun digging a grave yet, and Frank and Joe decided to put it well away from the cabin. There was no point in making the place even more distasteful than it already was. They found a large stone to mark the spot, but neither of them felt right leaving him with no name over the grave. Granted, he wasn't likely to have many visitors, but it still felt wrong. They went back inside the cabin and looked through the books, since that seemed the likeliest spot where the unfortunate former occupant of the island might have written his name. They found that he had been using the notebooks as journals. Three were completely filled, one partially, and eight more were empty. Evidently, he had expected to be on the island much longer than he was. The Hardys didn't have the heart to read the journals right now, but they did find his name in it: Eli McKellern. They resolved to make a wooden marker to add to the stone in the morning, so that they could put the name over the grave. After that, they moved the bed outside to be disposed of in the morning.

Supper was a good meal. There was no meat, of course, but the potatoes helped make up for that. They were a bit dry without butter, but the boys were hungry enough that they didn't mind. Afterwards, they went to bed, using the mosquito netting to cover themselves and try to ward off at least some of the insects.