Stranded On A Deserted Island • Part 1
By: Mark Starlin
Tags: Sailing, Adventure, Fiction, Serial Fiction, Humor

Fool that I am, I thought sailing the islands of French Polynesia by myself would be an awesome adventure. Which it was until the storm to rule all storms rolled in. Waves tossed my ship about like a bathtub toy. I resigned myself to certain death. Then after what seemed like days, the storm just stopped. But my ship was for all practical purposes destroyed. The rigging and mast were gone. The inboard motor wasn’t working. Nothing but the hull remained. I should have been killed. But as you might have realized, since I am telling this story, I survived. Although given my situation death might have been a mercy.

I had no idea where I was. Which didn’t matter much anyway, since I could only float helplessly wherever the ocean currents took me. I floated for four days, using up all my water and most of my food. Then it appeared. An island. What luck! Unfortunately, I was floating by it at a distance. I was forced to choose between staying aboard what would surely become my sea coffin, or abandoning ship and making a swim for the island. I swam like Michael Phelps going for the gold in the 200m freestyle at Beijing.

By the time I reached the beach, I was exhausted but relieved to be on land. I skipped the gold medal ceremony scheduled in my mind and started exploring the island. I knew I would need to find drinkable water to survive. I headed inland and after a couple of hours, I found a fresh-water pond. I drank eagerly. My thirst quenched, I started roaming the island. I saw a small hill and climbed it. I could see the entire island from my vantage point. It wasn’t very big. And appeared deserted.

I returned to the beach and began gathering rocks to create an SOS sign for any aircraft that might happen by. Once that task was complete, I began looking for suitable branches that I could fashion into spears for fishing. With food and water, I could survive long enough to, hopefully, be rescued. I was expected at the island of Opoa and hoped a rescue search would be mounted when I didn’t arrive. Between the hull of my ship and the SOS sign on the beach, I had two shots at being found.

I had managed to salvage a few supplies from the cabin of the ship before my swim to shore. A knife, a flashlight, a lighter, and a ten-pound emergency pack of beef jerky. I placed them in a small backpack before making the swim. Armed with those supplies, I set off on a hike around the island. Before long I found some old fire pits. Apparently, I wasn’t the first one to suffer this fate. I noted the location as a good place to set up camp.

Then I continued. Soon I made an incredible discovery. Apparently, the people previously stranded on this island were able to bring 10 record albums with them. Probably their favorites. I also found a solar-powered record player. Incredible. I didn’t know there was such a thing. And a good thing it was. The albums would be useless without it. I imagine they were so excited when they finally got rescued that they forgot about the albums and record player and left them behind.

As I was browsing through the albums — Stevie Wonder, The Beatles, Frank Sinatra, Linda Ronstadt, Aretha Franklin, Pink Floyd, The Partridge Family — I heard a slight rumble. I immediately started scanning the skies. Yes! An airplane! I started jumping up and down on the beach waving my arms. The pilot saw me, circled around and dipped his wings. Then he flew off into the distance. I was found and would be rescued!

There was nothing left to do except bust open the beef jerky and put on an album. I knew just the one. As I took my first bite of jerky the refrains of Come On Get Happy by The Partridge Family filled the air.