Thursday, July 10, 2003

Chap 13, part 4

The cocoanuts had little milk in them, but the pulp was fairly soft and it was nourishing. As we ate I noticed that some small rodent-like animals (the size of large rats) had come up to feed on the discarded shells. I crept up and killed a couple with the knife. The survivors scampered away. Apparently, however, they laughed it off among themselves because they soon returned and I killed again.

It was our first fresh meat since the night of Oct. 20 at Hickam Field. This and the cocoanut pulp made me feel just well enough to realize that I was violently hungry. Thirst returned.

I recrossed the island and collected a couple of quarts of water from the coral depressions, storing it in a Mae West. I made one last trip and hauled the raft across.

As it grew dark we bedded down, turning th raft over us for shelter. then the rain came down again, flooding our bedroom. We got no sleep. I think we rested pretty well, however, despite the rolling and pitching of the island. It seemed to me, as I dug my fingers into the sand to hold on, that even in the roughest weather our tiny raft never had behaved so badly as that 10 mile island.

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