48 I N A G U A 



had thrown up the sand dunes, that had borne the plants, that 

 had provided the mineral nutrition for these plants, which in 

 their turn were beaten flat again by the wind. 



I trudged on. After a time the ridge dipped into lowland, 

 dipped into a mangrove swamp. The swamp in its turn gave 

 way to a long narrow lake that lay like a ribbon in the sun. 

 Along the far edge were some of the flamingos we had seen the 

 evening before. They were feeding, ambling along in crane- 

 like strides, raising and dipping their reversed shovel bills as 

 they walked. I edged closer, squeezing through the mangroves, 

 but they took alarm and fled. 



But I was wasting time. Or was I? Did it make any difference 

 whether I found help today or tomorrow or the day after? 

 But then I reflected that after all we must eat, and if I could 

 quickly find help we might still salvage some of the tinned food 

 from the debris that was lying on the bottom of the reef. After 

 that we should see. It was not fair to Coleman to dally like 

 this. On I pressed, mile succeeding mile as the hours passed. 

 At noon I ate some of the food in my pack and sat down to rest 

 on the crest of a sand dune. Then I thought I saw some figures 

 way down the coast. Humans, two of them. Shouting, I darted 

 down the sand, jumping over the grasses and waving my arms. 

 To my astonishment the figures gave one look and dashed into 

 the bushes. 



