Continuation of ‘The Most Dangerous Game’

So, I was asked by my teacher to do somewhat a continuation of the short story called 'The Most Dangerous Game' by Richard Connell. Here it is !!!

Whitney's Account
It was blindly light when I stepped outside the threshold into the morning air of the rich, salty Caribbean Sea. I had left Rainsford on the yachts deck before retiring from the cold, dark and musky night yesterday, and was still to hear from him yet. He wasn't a late riser either, but I decided to leave him be to rest for a while more. Long trips always did tire out the strongest of men.

I soon found myself wondering about yesterday’s conversation with him, and how, now, looking out into the limpid and tranquil looking horizon, I found no existing proof of the hanging terror surrounding and wrapping the yacht yesterday.
It was really a silly superstition, the one of the ‘Ship-Trap Island’; merely told to scare anyone who dared wander too close to such an island. I, myself, had heard it whilst boarding to Rio, by an old beggar who spoke of prevalent doom to all those who did not believe in such story, more than to those who unfortunately stumbled across this mysterious island. I was not fazed by this. I was a born hunter. Nothing could faze me. 

As the sun started to rise above my head, I started to wonder if Rainsford was indeed alright. I decided to knock at his cabinet- in vain- nobody answered. I wandered the ship until late afternoon looking for any signs of him. It was then that I decided to recur to Captain Wilson.
“I'm afraid there have been no signs of Mr.Rainsford throughout the whole day. Are you sure he isn’t in his room?” Captain Wilson asked; he probably thought we were playing a trick on him. After seeing my reaction to this he nodded his head and a sudden flash of recognition struck his eyes. He looked at me intently and seemed to ponder whether to talk.

“Mr. Whitney, last night whilst on duty, one of my men said he heard a low pitched sound coming from out in the sea. He seemed to recall this event as being ‘the sound of a man drowning’.” He carefully composed his face and asked the ultimate question. “Was Mr. Rainsford out on deck alone after you retired?”
I didn't have to answer this; the answer was plain in my eyes. I stood there, looking at the Captain, speechless. The Captain seemed to understand this, and soon called on some of his men to take a boat out far into the west to look for any signs of, ‘struggle’. I was left on deck, with a sailor by my side to keep me under vigilance. It wasn't needed. I couldn't move even if I wanted to.

Night fell quickly that day and without realising it, 3 days had passed. I still hadn't moved from my deck position, apart from standing up to stretch my legs before sitting back down. I couldn't rest until I found Rainsford. It was then that the craziest idea sprang to my head. Had we not been passing near the ‘Ship-Trap Island’ when he apparently had fell off-ship? There was no way to speak this idea out to the crew. Their reaction was foreseen. I’d have to go there myself.
Sneaking off ship in the middle of the night in a little boat kept only for emergencies, I rowed as fast as I could in no certain direction at all. I was surprised when I hit land. A dense, green jungle sprang up from every inch of the island, and I knew I had found it. Was I not a hunter? Then I could surely try to look for any clues and tracks that might have been result of a human.

It took no longer than an hour to find it. I refer to this thing as ‘it’ because it sure wasn't a house. It was more of a mansion, who seemed to be hidden well from an intruders curious eyes. 
I knocked- no answer. I knocked again. To my deep surprise, there was a low sound coming from within the house. Footsteps. The sound of the doorknob turning- slowly- hesitatingly. I was terrorised at that moment, wondering what or who it could be. The door slowly opened, but no one was inside, so I ventured slowly in. I was inside the entrance hall when the door crashed close and a quick, painful blow was delivered to my head.

My knees gave over and I fell to the floor. Turning my head around to see who my attacker was, I detected a face of a man. This however, was not the face of any man. Standing above me with shocked wide eyes, was Rainsford.