An errant sunbeam lasered through a dingy porthole, stirring Jonas from his deep slumber and ripping him from pleasant dreams of boats filled with buxom blondes rescuing him from Hell in a tropical paradise. The gentle rocking almost lulled him back to sleep before he sat bolt upright, his brain finally realizing what his body had been trying to tell him.

“I’m on a boat,” he shouted. “I’m on a boat. I’m on a motherfucking boat.” He quieted, realizing that he was all alone in the cramped, musty cabin. “Unless this is still a dream,” he muttered to himself, wearily levering himself up in the narrow bed. Looking around the spartan space, the only decoration he could see was a schematic of some kind of engine or motor or something on the opposite wall. Beneath the diagram, a small desk was bolted to the deck with a battered water bottle perched on the corner. Everything else in the cabin was presumably stowed away neatly, giving the space an abandoned, unlived–in feeling.

Before he could get to his feet, the cabin door swung open on squealing rusty hinges, revealing the smiling face of the grizzled old man from the beach. A wide grin split the man’s weathered face as he placed a metal tray with some delicious-smelling food onto the small desk.

“Oh good,” he said to Jonas. “You’re awake.”

“Where am I?” croaked Jonas, a smile slowly cracking his tanned face as the reality of his rescue set in. “And how long was I out for?"

“I’m Charles Maxwell, captain of the MV Point Bridge, the steadiest, most reliable bulk carrier on the high seas,” said the man, extending his hand for a handshake. “You’ve been asleep for the past day and a half here in my Chief Engineer’s cabin. We’ve been checking on you every couple of hours and managed to get a little water down your gullet a couple of times.”

“Oh shit, I stole someone’s bed?” asked Jonas. “I hope he wasn’t too upset about it. I can find somewhere else to sleep until we get back to shore. I’ve gotten used to sleeping in weird places.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said with a dismissive wave. “Ivan’s a crazy Russian bastard who spends at least half his nights in a hammock in the engine room. Says the roar of the diesels is soothing. It apparently helps him get through the nightmares about Afghanistan or something. I don’t know much about all that PTSD business, but I’m fine with him sleeping wherever as long as he keeps those engines humming.”

Thrown off by the old man’s casually dismissive attitude, Jonas tried to refocus on more pressing concerns.

“Where are we going now?” he asked. “Have you let people know that you found me? I’m sure people at my office will be concerned by now. I’m sure.” He trailed off with a frown.

“We’re headed to La Guaira in Venezuela,” Captain Maxwell answered. “We’re due to unload a shipment of grain tomorrow morning. We found your driver’s license in your wallet, so we know you’re an American. We went ahead and notified the Coast Guard that we’d found you, but we weren’t able to get you back to the States without completely blowing our delivery schedule. I hope that’s alright.”

“No problem at all,” said Jonas. “You saved me from that godforsaken island, you can take me wherever the hell you want. Just don’t expect me to eat any more fucking coconuts. Never again, Captain. Never again. No sir.”

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“No coconuts, son,” said the Captain, giving Jonas a gentle pat on his shoulder. “No coconuts. Why don’t you go ahead and eat something and afterwards we’ll get you up on deck for some fresh air, if you’re able.”

“Sounds good, Captain.” Jonas managed to get himself across the small cabin to the desk and devoured the simple brothy soup, gnawing hunks of bread. Sweet sweet delicious bread. With no coconuts. Captain Maxwell watched with a bemused expression on his face as he slurped the last drops of soup and wiped the bowl with the last bit of the bread. Once Jonas finally drained his water and leaned back with a contented sigh, the Captain chuckled and scooped up the battered metal tray.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said to Jonas, leading him out of the room. The pair slowly trundled down the corridor, stopping only to drop the tray in the ship’s galley, before finally emerging onto the deck. Squinting in the bright sun, Jonas followed the Captain down the deck, past a series of covered holds, until they arrived at a motley group of men slouched onto a collection of deck chairs near the bow of the ship.

“Guys, this is Jonas, our new short-term passenger,” he said to the men. “Jonas, these are the boys.” The men looked over at Jonas and the Captain, mostly silently acknowledging their arrival with a nod or a wave.

“Hardly a boy, Captain,” wheezed an especially wrinkled sailor clutching a battered metal cup. “Haven’t been a boy since the Dust Bowl,” the man mused. “Had to leave the farm and move in with my uncle’s family down in Florida. Quit school and went to work at his orange grove. Told me I had to help support the family, ya know? Long hours in the heat and the humidity while Pa just drank his sorrows away. That’s why I left. Joined the Navy. Saw the world, blew things up, saw some more of the world. ‘Life is good in the Navy.’” The old timer trailed off, lost in a haze of his own memories.

“Don’t word about Fitzy,” the Captain reassured Jonas. “He’s a little long winded, but he’s a top-notch bosun. Wouldn’t trust another soul to keep us safe while we’re at sea on the Point Bridge. Not to mention he’s top notch at making sure every last bit of space in the hold gets filled. Just top notch. Can’t beat that Navy training, really.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” said Jonas.

“I’ll leave Jonas here in your loving care then boys,” the Captain said, turning to stride purposefully back down the deck towards the bridge. Jonas settled into the vacant seat next to Fitzy, gratefully accepting a bottle of water from another crew member.

“Welcome to the ship, Jonas,” a handsome member of the crew said solemnly. “I’m Roy Hinkley, Second Mate. I was on watch when we were passing your island. I’m glad we were able to be there to rescue you.”

“Thank you so much,” gushed Jonas. “You have no idea at all how grateful I am to you guys. To all of you.” He turned to acknowledge the entire gathering. “I never thought I’d get off that fucking island. I pretty much gave up on hope a while ago, and was resigned to dying, forgotten and alone, surrounded by coconuts.”

Smiles finally broke out on some of the crew’s faces and everyone seemed to relax a little. A few words started being passed around by the men, accepting the newcomer into their circle. Jonas was leaning back in his chair, relaxing and enjoying the breeze coming over the bow, when he realized someone was trying to talk to him.

“Sorry, what was that?” he asked.

“No worries, mate,” said Roy. “I was just wondering how you came to be on that island? The Captain took a look around before they brought you back to the ship and said your boat looked pretty fucked up. Also said it looked like you’d been there for quite a while before we found you.”

Jonas took a deep breath before deciding that his saviors deserved to hear his story. Leaning forward and placing his hands on his knees, he began.