Thursday, July 10, 2003

Chap 13, part 8

A scount plane crossed about two miles to the south. We took to the raft and started in that direction. When we had rowed about half a mile I saw a native hut on the beach. Feeling sure we had struck a village or the outpost of one, we put in.

It was a single thatched hut and deserted at that, but it looked like lower Manhattan to me. There was nothing inside it except an unfinished boat.

We drank heartily of water that had collected in cavities hollowed out of the bases of cocoanut palms. It was full of wrigglers, but they tasted fine. At that writing I would have drunk anything smaller than me.

At 12:30 P.M. on this 23rd day of our wanderings, a plane passed directly over our heads, only 200 feet up. It roared at such an angle that it would have been impossible for the pilot to have seen us. We didn't care too much. We had found shelter. We were sure of restful sleep, which weneeded now almost as muchas we had needed water before. The cief reason I still was praying for quick rescue was that of medical assistance for Reynolds.

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