the pilot, an easygoing sort named mike worthington, landed the plane safely on the desert island.
some of the passengers were impressed, and grateful.
others, not so much, and they angrily demanded to know why it had been necessary to land the plane at all, and insisted that the pilot should have showed some backbone and attempted to make it to san francisco.
be that as it may, the plane was down, with all the passengers safe, at least for the time being.
outside on the island, all was dark and silent.
the two stewardesses, mary harris and betty baker, moved down the aisles, trying to soothe the more agitated passengers.
there were twenty-six passengers. the flight had started in hong kong or shanghai with a crew of four - the two stewardesses, the pilot, and an assistant pilot, but the assistant pilot. a surly fellow named dave hunter, was, unknown to the passengers. dead, his lifeless body propped upright in his chair.
the twenty-six passengers were:
al andrews, an adventurer with a checkered past
barton bascomb, a banker
cecily chandler, a cocotte
daisy dalton, a daredevil - and dynamite
eddie edgeworth, an early bird with his eye on the worm
frank fairleigh, a fashionable man about town.
gary garth, a freelance debt collector
herbert hoover, a former president of the united states
isaih, a prophet
jezebel jones, a lady with a jewel case - and a checkered past
kelly kamikaze, a debutante with a fiery temper
luke lynch, a lawman and straight shooter
miss marcia morris, a harmless looking old lady
norris nicholson, a nonentity
ollie oliver, “the champ”, a heavyweight boxer
pete porterfield, a power broker
quentin, a drifter
rosalie rogers, a big game hunter loaded for bear
sally smith, a school teacher
tara tempest, a torch singer
uncle bill, a philosopher
vinny, an odd jobs man
woodrow wilson, a former president of princeton unversity
happy, a clown
yeti, a captive in the custody of luke lynch
zeke, a fiddler and diddler
