Keith even did some diving and brought up stuff that had sunk. They managed to retrieve quite a lot of items that should make our stay on the island more endurable: food and clothes and utensils, not to mention a few bottles of booze that had somehow survived the blast and some fresh fish that hadn’t. But they came back without anything really major—such as a flare gun or transmitter—that we could use to alert rescuers of our position.

Andrew, a great hand at everything, cleaned me fish. He is not only retired Navy, but an Eagle Scout. He is nothing if not prepared. Just as I never go anywhere without my writing implements and reading material, he is forever equipped with a slew of useful items, including a Swiss Army knife and a butane lighter for his pipe.

While Andrew gutted the catch of the day, the rest of us trooped over the beach and gathered driftwood for our fire. It is plentiful. In about ten minutes, we had a pile six feet high.

Done with the bloody work, Andrew built a tidy little fire about twenty feet from our huge stack of driftwood. He used his butane lighter to ignite it.

Keith had recovered a skillet during one of his dives.

Billie did the cooking. We didn’t have any grease for the skillet, so she opened one of the liquor bottles and cooked up the fish in bourbon. It wasn’t bad.

This is sort of like being on a camping trip. A trip where you messed up and left most of your supplies behind—a trip where you don’t necessarily have a way to get home. Those are the negatives. On the other side of the coin, this is better than any camping trip I ever went on because this one includes the gals.

I’ve had a hard time keeping my eyes off Kimberly in her white bikini. And Billie isn’t any slouch, either. Her black bikini is a lot bigger than Kimberly’s, but seems smaller because there’s so much of her that it doesn’t cover. She was really something to see, crouched beside the fire and shaking the skillet. The skillet wasn’t the only thing that shook. She seems to like showing off what she’s got. I try not to let Connie catch me looking at her.