Chapter 17 the signal on the mountain
After the Island Olympics, Jack felt stronger than he had ever been. His body was hard, his mind was clear, and he knew he could survive anything the forest threw at him. But as he sat on the beach looking at the endless blue water, he knew he couldn't stay a hermit forever. He missed the sound of human voices. He missed his family.
He had tried to leave by the sea, and the sea had said "No." Now, he would try to reach out through the sky. He would not build a boat; he would build a mountain of smoke
Jack knew that a small campfire would not be enough. A ship passing far away would think it was just a natural forest fire or a cloud. He needed something bigger. He needed a signal that screamed for help.
He decided to build his signal on the "Eye of the Island"—a flat, rocky plateau halfway up the main mountain. From there, the smoke would rise high into the wind currents where it could be seen for many miles.
"This is not just a fire," Jack said to himself. "This is a message."
Jack spent the next five days working from sunrise to sunset. To make a signal that lasted, he needed two things: dry wood to keep the fire hot, and green, wet leaves to create thick, white smoke.
He went deep into the jungle. He looked for trees that had fallen during the tornado. This wood was bone-dry and burned very fast. He carried heavy logs on his broad shoulders, walking them up the steep mountain path. His muscles bulged under his scarred skin, but he did not feel tired. He was on a mission.
Next, he gathered the "Smoke Maker." He found a specific type of broad leaf that grew near the swamp. These leaves were thick and waxy. When they hit a hot fire, they didn't just burn; they turned into heavy, bright white smoke that hung in the air like a solid wall.
He made a huge pile of these leaves and covered them with a deer skin to keep them dry from the morning dew. He was being very careful. He didn't want to waste his hard work.
Jack didn't just pile the wood on the ground. He was a master builder now. He used large, flat stones to create a circular base. This would protect the fire from being blown out by the high mountain winds.
He arranged the dry wood in a "Teepee" shape, leaving a hole in the middle for air to flow through. This would make the fire burn white-hot. Next to this main pile, he kept three "Emergency Bundles" of dry grass and small twigs.
"If I see a ship," Jack thought, "I only have a few minutes. I must be ready to light it instantly."
Jack didn't want to keep a fire burning all day and night—it would waste his wood. Instead, he kept a "Seed Fire" in a small, protected hole near his main signal. He fed this small flame every hour with tiny bits of bark. It was his golden spark, his only hope for rescue.
He stayed on the mountain plateau for a week. He slept on a bed of soft moss next to his woodpile. He ate wild berries and dried meat he had brought from the cave. Every hour, he would stand on the edge of the cliff and scan the horizon.
He watched the sun rise and the sun set. He saw the stars rotate. He saw a pod of whales swimming far out at sea. But he saw no ships.
The hardest part was the rain. One afternoon, a sudden tropical storm moved in. Jack jumped into action. He didn't care about himself getting wet. He took his large deer-skin tunic and his extra animal hides and threw them over his dry wood and his green leaves.
He stood in the pouring rain, shivering and naked, holding the skins down so the wind wouldn't blow them away. He protected his "Seed Fire" with his own body, leaning over the small hole to keep the water out.
When the rain stopped, Jack was freezing, but his signal was dry. He had saved his message.
On the tenth day, Jack sat by his pile. He looked at his hands, covered in soot and dirt. He looked at the scar on his eye. He realized that even if a ship never came, he had done something amazing. He had turned a disaster into a life.
He wasn't just waiting for rescue; he was commanding it. He had the wood, he had the leaves, and he had the spark.
"I am here," Jack whispered, looking at the empty horizon. "I am Jack of the Island, and I am ready to be found."
He lay down next to his pile of wood and closed his eyes. He felt the warmth of the small seed fire nearby. He was safe, he was prepared, and he was watching. The SOS was ready. All he needed now was a witness.
