Little boats with puttering outboard motors. Dark skinned figures with waving arms. Hobgoblins on the horizon blocking out the light. When they sped away I felt the breath come back into my chest.
When we finally stepped foot on the island, I wandered over the dunes and atop the craggy rocks to get a better look, staring down like Robinson Crusoe at their abandoned hideouts and make shift shacks made of wooden ship planks and broken boxes.