He came up fighting and clawing. One hand caught the damp and slimy thing. The thing bit his fingers but he hung on.
After dragging himself to a balanced position, he gave both hands to conquering the intruder.
“Feathers,” he muttered. “A sea-bird. Food from the sea.” At that he felt for the creature’s neck, got one more bite from the iron-like beak, then put the wandering bird to rest with neatness and dispatch.
Hardly had he accomplished this, when, with all the force of a big league baseball, a second object struck him squarely in the chest. Completely bowled over, he barely avoided going overboard. This intruder escaped.
After searching about, he located a small flashlight. He started casting its gleams over the sea. All about him the black waters seemed alive.
“Birds!” he exclaimed. “Thousands of them!”
He had not exaggerated. A great host of sea parrots, beating the water with their tough little wings, were making their way south from their summer home.
Three more of them fell into his small boat and were added to his slender larder.
“I must make the most of everything,” he told himself stoutly. “Men have lived for weeks on such a raft as this.”
At that, after watching the last ugly little traveler pass, he once more drew his heavy coat over him and lay down to peaceful sleep.