What with the heat and the want of food, which caused a dull throbbing in my temples, by noon I was in such a state that I did not care what happened to us.
The pilot (poor chap) had only recently been married, and he rattled along continually about his young wife.
I have no wish to be in like straits again, but if such a misfortune should happen, I earnestly trust I shall not have the misfortune to be beside a young fellow newly wedded! In the long weary time we spent together I had the whole of his history, from childhood to courtship, and I suppose he had mine!
What surprised us was the great number of logs floating about. Apparently a timber boat had foundered somewhere close by.
Every log that hove in sight through the haze we thought was a ship. It was a terrible time.
At intervals we either heard—or imagined we did—the engines of aircraft. Sometimes they seemed all around us; sometimes a long way off.
"Our only chance is a relief seaplane being sent after us," said the pilot. "Otherwise we are done for!"
There was precious little chance of us ever being spotted, we reckoned, owing to the extremely low visibility.
At least a dozen times, as the day wore on, we heard the unmistakable roar of aircraft, and it was torture to listen to them.
"It's coming nearer. They will see us!" the pilot would cry, hopefully.