The island that she’d landed on was little more than rock jutting out of the sea. But it was large enough not to be submerged during most high tides. It was part of a small string of similar rocky outcroppings jutting out of the sea, and had, at times, been visited by various men, eager for the easy plunder. On the rocky beaches, it was possible to get within arm’s (really, club’s) reach of the many fur seals, and there were millions of eggs for the snatching. Off the coasts, the ocean provided vast supplies of sea urchins, large fish, and even, for a time, whales. From the 1600’s until early in the 1900’s, these tiny islands suffered wave after wave of marauders, intent on easy riches, and caring little for the devastation they left behind.
Fortunately, both for the islands and for her, in 1909, President Theodore Roosevelt signed Executive Order No.1043, which protected part of the island chain. In 1913, the US Weather Bureau ceased to maintain the weatherstation they’d been running for about 11 years. By 1969, the entire chain was declared a National Wildlife Refuge, and after 1972, the manned lighthouse was automated, leaving the largest of the islands relatively uninhabited. A handful of boats were still authorized to approach, but for the most part, the public was not welcome.
As it was, she’d managed to land on one of the islands to the northwest, technically outside of U.S. territorial waters, though still protected sanctuary land. She couldn’t have chosen a better spot to disappear. In her condition, she’d attract little attention, and once she was out of the water, there was little by way of predators to worry about. Her entire focus could be spent on her body as it went through various molecular and more esoteric changes.