A sail had been hoisted after their conference the first morning, and Olan Meyer steered toward what he believed was their original destination. But the wind soon died down, the sail fell slack, and it was only useful as shade from the blazing sun.
The day after her fever cleared Nancy was sitting beside Olan as he studied the Pacific map, which had been placed in the lifeboat along with a book of navigation instructions.
“Where is Koshu Island on this map?” she asked.
After a brief search he pointed it out with a grimy finger.
“Do you know of any coral-surrounded islands northeast of it?” she asked.
“Plenty. Why?”
“There was one—about a day by water from Koshu, where they tell me my brother’s plane went down,” Nancy explained. “His gunner was made a prisoner by the Japs. He turned up at our hospital back there on Koshu. Soon as he’s able he’s going to guide a plane back to the island.”
“Got any more details?” asked Olan.
“Nothing, except that the island was covered with a jungle. As far as Vernon knew there were no native villages there.”
“And it was surrounded by coral reefs?”