“Who are you?” I asked, still a little unsure of my surroundings.
“I am Rick Harrison, and this my friend, George Starky.” said the man next to me, pointing to another man on the other side of the circle of people around the fire. He spoke in an Australian accent, “We were part of the coast gaurd back home in Australia. We got shipwrecked on this bugga’ about a year ago.” he patted the sand with his hand.
“Have you ever seen a passing ship?”
He shook his head, “Nah mate. See, the waters around the island are too shallow for ships to cross about five miles out. Only sailboats and fisherman’s boats can come about safely, and these waters aren’t the hottest tourist attraction, on account of the frequent storms.”
He pointed across the island, “This island is about ten square kilometers… Oh, sorry, you’re American. That would make it… about six square miles. It was once a Japanese landing strip during The Great War. Its quite preserved, even the anti-air equipment still works.”