It wasn’t there yesterday. Or was it?
We all looked at each other in puzzlement.
There was only one way to determine its location and what it might have been.
We set off in Johnno’s motor boat skimming over the waves watching the island come closer.
It looked like any other island we’d seen in this part of the world and so we landed and went exploring.
The palm trees along the beachfront gave way to rocky outcrops and the going was very difficult. It was obvious this was once a volcano evidenced by the black dried lava flow from long ago.
Around a corner we came across a strange sight. A virtual oasis in the middle of this harsh landscape. A small valley, rich and vigorous growth, inhabited by creatures we had never seen before and guarded we soon discovered by a fierce and warlike people.
They were tall, muscular men, caught it would seem inside a time capsule where their dress told us they had lived this way for a long time. The women were also tall and lithe and moved with a graceful elegance. Around the village children ran about playing as children do.
We were greeted with great caution, these people who did not speak our language motioned for us to sit with them. They shared a meal with us, they allowed us to stay one night. The next morning, they showed us the way back to our boat and watched as we left. I had the impression they did not want us to return.
Filled with the story of our discovery we couldn’t wait to tell our tale.
But the next morning as we looked across the breakers the island was not there. We even set out to find it again but a day’s search led us nowhere. The island had vanished.
In moments of drunken stupor, we would regale all and anyone of our story much to the amusement of those around us.