Shot of the black smoke in the distance again. Charlie's on the beach, collecting messages from the lostaways that they're stuffing in a bottle to send with the raft, and he suggests to Locke, "Dear Mom, everything's fine, I'm on the island, saw some black smoke, people turned up. Love, your name here." They have a good laugh. "Message in a bottle. That's sweet," says Locke, but he doesn't give Charlie a message. Charlie tries Hurley, who gives him a rolled-up piece of paper and tells him not to look at it, which Charlie immediately does, earning an admonishing "Dude!" from Hurley. Next up is Art, but he declines, saying, "I gave at the office," like, shut up, Art.
Jack's walking around the people finishing up the raft, and he and Mercutio give each other the manly hug thing, with the strong back pat, and they tell each other good luck, and Mercutio says, "See you soon." And then Jack is telling Walt to look after his dad, and Walt says he will, with that smile that kids get when they're given an important responsibility like that. And then Jack shakes hands with Jin, that extra-special handshake fraught with significance, where you go in kind of slow-motion and then the extra-firm grip, while you look each other square in the eye. Jack says good luck, and Jin says something in Korean, which is probably, "I have made great strides in bridging the language gap and have earned your trust and respect, but stay away from my hot wife, or I will turn this raft around and paddle all the way back to kill you."
Kate asks after Sawyer, because she's hot for him this week. But Charlie hasn't seen him, and now Jack calls her because they're leaving.
Beautiful rocky scenery, which reminds me of Peggys Cove in Nova Scotia, making me wistful. And they stop only for a moment, much to Hurley and Art's chagrin, who I'm going to go out on a limb and speculate that they're not used to such hikes. They stop just long enough for Rousseau to take off her outer shirt and tie it around her waist, and Locke notices three parallel scratches on her arm. He asks where she got them. "A bush," she says, which, bullshit. "Mean bush," is all Locke says. And much has been made of Rousseau's remarkably smooth armpits, because a) she's French, and b) she's stranded on an island. But as I think about it, if you're French, and crazy, isn't actually shaving your armpits just the kind of nutty behaviour you'd indulge in?
The grim death march continues, with Hurley and Art discussing Art's name, which turns out isn't Art at all, but Arzt. And it's his last name. Hurley says it's hard to pronounce, and Arzt snottily says he knows a bunch of ninth-graders who manage just fine. Hurley suggests using his first name, which he contrivedly explains he read on the plane's manifest (lest we think that the sudden appearance of Arzt means he's one of "the others"). Arzt don't think so. "I think Leslie's a bitchin' name," says Hurley. Arzt says "Arzt" will be just fine, but I think I'm going to go with Arse. I know a bunch of ninth-graders who probably pronounce that just fine too.