Evening star., 1942-10-12
81 Days Adrift on a Raft

| I had taken in this whole show
from start to finish, and somehow
felt much better after 1t was all
over. I hoped we would soon have
favorable winds.
That was the first time I had seen
the great gray albatross, but not
the last. The next day he was back
again, and almost every day there
after. Sometimes he was in COM
pany with a black one. Perhaps I
was becoming too imaginative, but
the appearance Of the gray albatross
always impressed me uncomfortably.
Later events convinced me that this
was indeed a bird of evil omen.
AS a result of the recent rains,
our pistol now was rusted beyond
repair. Previously I had been able
to insert a shell by hand and force
the gun closed, in this way firing
one round at a time, but rust and
corrosion finally won. The gun had
rusted so badly during the days
when we were unable to clean it,
because of continuous rain, that it
had become almost one solid piece
of metal. Tony, by exerting all his
strength, was able to remove parts
that we thought we might be able
to use in improvising fish spears or
some other implement to arm us
if we should land on an uninhabited
island. He then drew out the bar
rel, with hard struggle, to make
as great a length as possible of bar
rel and frame. We left the gun in
this position to rust solid, thus max
ing passable hammer. This, we
figured, would come in handy for
breaking open shellfish. coconuts, or
other edibles that we might be for
tunate enough to find on an island
Strength Slowly Wanes.
Our pliers and pocketknife. our
most useful tools, were not so Sc
verely affected by corrosion as was
the gun, which was a better grade
Of steel.
That night we talked some about
our plight, which was growing worse
every minute that we were without
favorable wind. Shutdown brought a
little comfort, but it was not COOL
it was less hot.
The fifteenth day dawned on a
torpid sea. AS the morning wore
on and I saw no signs of the calm
lifting I began to wish we had some
means of rowing. Our strength was
a little less with each foodless day,
and felt 1t necessary that we should
make some sort of progress. Be-
sides, rowing would give us some
thing to do. Hour after hour we
had gazed at the sluggish sea from
our reddening eyes, seldom speaking,
seldom smiling. Activity might be
tonic to our dulling spirits.
I looked over our stock of gear
for some means of improvising oars.
The inventory didn't take long.
Finally my eyes lit upon my shoes.
which I was still saving. I studied
them thoughtfully; the only posi-
bility was there.
Gene" I said, give me the
knife"
He turned his head slowly, after
moment, without interest.
Give me the knife" I repeated.
He handed 1t to me and turned
back to his contemplation of the
silent sea.
Improvising Oars.
My shoes had thick, live rubber
soles and low heels. With the knife
I cut away the uppers of one shoe,
slicing off the leather flush around
the heels, but leaving about a half
inch of the uppers attached around
the toe. This formed sort of
cup and was also to act as REIN
forcement to keep the sole from
bending backward under pressure
Of the water.
When the upper part was carved
away to my satisfaction I drilled a
hole in one side of the instep 1
passed the shoestring through this
hole, evened up the ends of the
cord and tied it down with square
knot. I then tied another square
knot in the joined outer ends of the
strings. This formed permanent
loop that could be passed about the
wrist of the rover, so that if he in
advertently dropped the shoe it
would not be lost.
After finishing the first shoe, I
moved over to the forward thwart,
sat down and tried it out.
GLORY bel" I whispered.
My scheme was going to work.
I could dip the shoe into the
water and, pushing backward, Gre
ate perceptible forward drive. 1t
worked exactly like a small canoe
paddle, except that my arm was
the handle.
In few minutes had made an