"You know," Wiggy told me, "the way Robinson Crusoe realized he wasn't alone was that he found a footprint in the sand."

"That's kind of creepy," I said, looking around us.

On Wednesday and Thursday, with the help of the map, we finished exploring the island. In order to speed things up, we split into five teams of two. Wiggy and I were one of the teams.

"You know," Wiggy told me as we made our way along the northern edge of the island, "Robinson Crusoe realized he wasn't alone when he found a footprint in the sand."

"That's kind of creepy," I said, looking around us.

She laughed. "Don't worry! There's nobody here but us chickens!"

We trudged along the beaten path, occasionally pushing a frond or branch out of the way. "Hey, Wiggy," I said, "doesn't it seem like somebody maintains these paths? I mean, there used to be a walking path in the woods behind my uncle's house. Every so often he'd to go along with a pair of clippers to keep it clear. But the summer when he died, the path closed up pretty quickly. A year later you couldn't tell that there'd ever been a path there."

"Huh," she commented. After a bit of thought she said, "I think the crew or somebody must have fixed things up before we came. You know, checked the supplies in the cave, cleared the brush off the paths, etc., etc."

"Makes sense," I said.

As we walked, the ever-present roar of the surf rose and fell gently all around us. Aside from that and the occasional chirp of the tree-frogs, there was nothing else to hear. The air was warm and clean, and even if it was hot — especially in direct sunlight — there was a constant cooling breeze.

"It's like paradise here," I said.

"Paradise Prison," Wiggy replied.

"Oh, come on," I protested.

"I can't stop thinking that I should just get in the dory and leave," she said. "I need to go for help."

"You promised you'd wait," I reminded her.

"Yeah," she agreed.

"AND you promised you'd take me with you," I added.

"I will," she said, almost sullenly. "Look, I will, okay? I will! I'll wait. I want to take you with me. I really need to take you with me, 'cause it isn't smart to go alone. Even if I do all the rowing, it will still be easier with two. So don't worry: I won't leave without you."

"Wiggy?"

"What?"

"If the other island is so close, how come we can't see it?"

She stopped walking. "You don't know which direction to look," she replied. "I've seen it. Even though I knew which way to look, it took me a while to pick it out."

"Can you show me?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I think I want to keep that part secret, too. It's important that you don't start second-guessing me."

I sighed. She was so difficult on this topic! The problem was, that she was right: I *was* second-guessing her. I didn't want her to go at all. As smart as she was, and however experienced she might be in a rowboat, she'd still only be a little girl in a rowboat, somewhere in the biggest ocean in the world.

For sure, she wouldn't be any safer with me along, in spite of what she said. What kind of backup would I be? What if the boat tipped over? What if we lost an oar? What if we lost both oars?

There were too many unknowns; too many things we couldn't know for sure. What if Wiggy had read the map wrong? What if the other island wasn't even there, or wasn't inhabited? What if the current was against us, or we lost our way?

The worse part was, if we made a mistake, we weren't likely to get a second try.

So far, I'd gotten her to wait until Monday. Maybe I could push her to Tuesday. In the meantime, I had to find a way to make her wait even longer. I needed to find reasons to make her stay.

What I really needed was help, I thought, and it suddenly occurred to me that I could take Cakey into my confidence. Cakey was clever and tricky: she might come up with a dozen ways to slow Wiggy down without giving the game away. In fact, that sounded like a really good idea.

"You're awfully quiet," Wiggy said. "What are you thinking about?"

"Rowing away from here," I told her truthfully. "Hey, how will we carry water to drink in the dory?"

Wiggy's face brightened. "I've thought about that! And I have a great solution! Listen—"

I did listen, and I heard something that pricked my ears up. I stopped stock still and grabbed Wiggy's arm. "Shh, Wiggy! Do you hear that?" The sound was still soft and maybe far-off, but in the near-silence of the island I could hear it. It was a strange, quick, pattering sound. It had to be an animal, or a person. Whatever it was, it was running.

"I don't—" she began, but I cut her off.

"There's something coming this way!" I hissed. "It's some kind of animal, heading straight for us! Whatever it is, it's really fast!"

Very quickly the sound had gotten louder, and now Wiggy heard it as well. It rose from a distant patter to a rumble, and the rumble grew into a roar as it grew closer. By the sound of it, it wasn't alone. It could have been a herd of... some kind of animal... or maybe a group of men, running barefoot through the heavy plant growth around us. Because of the bushes and leaves and plants, we couldn't see very far. Whatever it was would right on top of us before we'd get any visual warning. Besides that, the sound was so muffled and dampened by the thick bushes and trees, it was hard to tell exactly which direction the thing or things were coming from, and how close or far they were.

"What on earth is it?" Wiggy asked, wild-eyed.

I looked around for something to defend us with, and found nothing better than an old broken stick, and a sharp rock. I grabbed one in each hand, and got ready.

"Whatever it is," I said, "We have to hit it hard as soon as it comes out. We have to make sure *we* hurt it first, before it hits us. Remember, Wiggy: Aim for the soft parts!"

Wiggy nodded, and picked up a stick and stone for herself. I stepped a little ahead of her, to make sure I had a clean shot at it.

As the monster — or whatever it was — approached closer and closer, making more and more noise, our minds filled with all sorts of images: gigantic animals, headhunters, wild boars, buffalo, rhinos... who knew what! My heart kicked up a few notches. I raised my head. I felt incredibly alert, as scared and as ready as I could be. But one thing was for sure: whatever it was, I was going to leave my mark on it.

Soon we heard branches snapping, and a huge crash! among the bushes, followed quickly by another. We both jumped, startled. Wiggy fumbled and dropped her makeshift weapons. She squeaked in terror, and scrambled to pick them up again. I squeezed both hands to get a better grip on my own rock and stick. By now I was sure that the animal, whatever it was, was *big*. It was leaping and bounding toward us, overcoming every obstacle with its powerful, violent strength.

"MAR-CEEEEE!" screamed Wiggy, "I'm scared! I'm scared! We're going to die! We're going to DIE! What is it? What is it?"

With a final boom! the shrubbery parted, and an enormous rock came crashing through. It crossed the path a few feet ahead of us, covered us with the dust that followed in its wake, and bounded down the hill into the sea.

At first, the two of us gaped like idiots, astounded, shocked, dusty, and speechless.

Then Wiggy began to laugh. She laughed and laughed until the tears ran from her eyes and she had to pull off her glasses. "A rock!" she cried. "All that noise, and it was only a rock!"

I laughed too: but only a little bit. I gave a relieved hah!, glad that we hadn't been torn apart by a ravenous beast. My adrenaline rush had left me a little shaky; I was still a bit unnerved by the experience, and had to ramp back down to normal.

"Aim for the soft parts!" Wiggy repeated, chuckling and clutching her sides. "Oof! I almost wet myself when that thing rolled out of the bushes! I thought we were going to get eaten alive!"

"It's lucky the rock didn't hit us," I told her. "It would have been as good as being eaten alive. Or being hit by a car."

"Whew!" she said, getting a grip on herself.

"We have to warn the others," I said.

"Watch for falling rocks," Wiggy said. "Look both ways before crossing the street!" and she burst out laughing again.

"I'm glad you're so tickled by our brush with death," I told her, picking up the walkie-talkie.

"Oh, Marcie!" she laughed. "I'll show you 'tickled'" and she stuck her wiggling fingers into my armpit.

"Ooh, stop!" I said, jumping back a step. "No, really! Stop! I'm not ticklish, Wiggy, I'm not! Quit it! I'm— Eeee!"

"I'm just aiming for your soft parts," Wiggy teased. "Tickle, tickle, tickle!"
 

By Thursday evening, we knew for certain that the adults hadn't made it to the island. We'd covered every inch, followed every path, and looked in every corner. (As much as islands have corners!)

Now, we not only knew that they weren't on the island, we also knew that they hadn't been rescued either. The proof of that was the fact that we were still stuck on our island. If Captain Blackett or anyone in her crew had reached safety and civilization, the first thing they would have done was send someone to pick us up. Since that hadn't happened, we knew that the adults were still lost.

We had to hope that they'd found their way to one of the many islands that dotted the South Pacific. Hopefully, they'd find food and water. Maybe not piled neatly in a cave as we'd found, but we had to believe that those resourceful women would find a way to survive.

Wiggy and I never said so, but neither of us expected to find the adults on our island. After the two of us had circled the island in the dory, I felt sure that we were alone. I expected that once the Amazons reached the same realization, that they'd be depressed and sad.

But I was wrong. Oddly enough, everyone (including me) was quite excited — and even happy — once we were sure.

Maybe it was because at least one question had been settled. Maybe it was because we could quit waiting for an adult to come and take charge: we knew at last that *we* were in charge; that we had to plan and carry out everything.

Until we were rescued, anyway.
 

Ding-Dong spent Thursday morning attempting to re-route the water from the spring's pool. It was much harder than she expected. Cakey, Wiggy, and I helped, carrying rocks and moving dirt and sand. With the few tools we'd brought from the ship we tried to dig water channels in the rock.

Unfortunately, it didn't work.

We were able to get the water running toward the shower-shelf, but the flow was so strong that the water overshot the shelf and flew into the jungle below. Ding-Dong tried to enlarge the channel or make it deeper, but that only made it worse. With all her fiddling, a rock came loose, opening a gap that was impossible to close.

Impossible, at least, for four girls without the proper tools and materials.

Water poured down the side of the hill and broke into a dozen useless rills and dribbles. The water in our original pool — our reservoir — dropped rapidly to about half it's former level.

"Don't give up, Belle," Cakey told her. "It's a good idea. You just need to think it out a little more."

"Eh, it doesn't matter," Ding-Dong said, brushing off her disappointment. "We're getting rescued in a day or two anyway. Right?"

"Right!" we all answered, although Wiggy's answer was an unconvinced grunt.

In any case, the question of bathing got answered in a completely different and quite novel way. Graffy and Grooty, while exploring a rocky cliff on the western side of the island, found a set of waterspouts.

On a plateau overlooking the ocean, they found some small holes in the ground. When Grooty got down on hands and knees to look inside, jets of water unexpectedly struck her in the stomach and face. She fell over, stunned, and lost one of the walkie-talkies and a flashlight down the holes.

Graffy had been quite frightened, thinking her twin was badly hurt, but after lying on the ground panting for several minutes, Grooty was fine.

"It just knocked the wind out of me," the girl told us later.

It didn't take long to understand the phenomenon: there were fissures and tunnels that ran through the rock cliff. Any time a wave struck the face of the cliff, water filled the empty spaces and shot out the waterspouts.

Once you understood the principle, it was easy to know when a spout was going to blow. All you had to do was watch for the waves or listen for the gurgles that came from the holes.

Two of the spouts, it turned out, regularly shot enough water in the air to completely drench a body.

And so, on Friday morning, we all made our way to the spouts, and took our showers.

One of the things we'd taken from the ship was soap: a special soap that works in salt water. With it, we were able to clean our hair and bodies, and rinse quite conveniently as the jets fell to earth. The soap left our skin — and even our hair! — soft and clean, and no horrible tangles.

Cakey, Wiggy, and I bathed last, not looking at each other, and not removing our underwear.

It was weird, I admit, but I was grateful for Cakey and Wiggy's modesty or insecurity or whatever it was. At least I wasn't alone in not wanting to be seen naked. Their pudor gave me a perfect cover.

Looking back on the whole experience, Friday was our most peaceful, fun, relaxing day of all the time we spent on the island. By then, we'd explored it all. We knew we were alone there. Today was the day we'd be missed; today we were expected on the flight from Bora Bora. Tomorrow we'd be rescued. All we needed to do was wait.

But the waiting... well, that didn't start until tomorrow, Saturday. Today, if it hadn't been for the shipwreck, we would have been at sea, returning to Bora Bora.

"What time was our flight today?" I asked Wiggy as we returned from the waterspouts.

She glanced at her watch. "It was a little after lunch... 12:20. We still have a couple of hours to make it," she joked.

I almost wanted to ask Wiggy how soon she thought we'd be rescued. It was everyone else's favorite topic of discussion. However, I knew it would set her off, so I didn't say it.
 

In the afternoon we gathered coconuts and piled them near the cave. We went with Ding-Dong to find the pigs. They were even smaller and cuter than she'd said. We oohed and cooed over them, giving them names, watching from a distance, but when we moved closer to see if we could pet one, they all ran off, squealing and oinking in a terrifying explosion of porcine terror. It was a little funny to see those tiny bodies falling over each other, rushing to get away, but the noise was deafening and left us speechless.

After that, we couldn't find the pigs again.

Some of the girls put on their bathing suits and went to play under the waterspouts. At first, Graffy and Grooty were in a snit because they couldn't swim, but Wiggy managed to convince Mirina that we could take turns on Shark Watch. One or two girls could watch the entrance to the cove, and bang on a pot with a stick if a shark was seen.

After about a half an hour the watch was discontinued, and anyone who wanted to swim, swam. In spite of their bravado, Graffy and Grooty stayed in the cove, and didn't venture out to the open sea.

Before sunset, we all trooped up to the waterspouts to take our evening showers, and everyone without exception went to bed as soon as it got dark.

We were tired, sure, but we also wanted to get up as early as possible.

After all, tomorrow was Saturday, and Saturday we might get rescued.

© 2008 by Kaleigh Way

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