OH, SHOOT! 



breeze in a bay this size would raise a sea too 

 heavy for a tiny skiff with a four-inch free- 

 board. I remembered capsizing a boat once 

 in an effort to land a big fish; these waters 

 were deep and cold; the desolation of the 

 place was oppressive. 



We finally hooked up a headlight and an 

 armful of dry batteries; then Wilson and I 

 set out in the launch. This was the first day 

 the little speed boat had been in the water ; she 

 spat and shuddered at the taste of our Mexican 

 gasoline, but finally she began to plane, and 

 we skimmed off into the darkness, swinging 

 the light in circles. We ran blindly, of 

 course, for we had not the slightest idea in 

 which direction the skiff had gone. 



After a few miles we shut off and yelled, 

 but there was not even an echo. That silence 

 simply swallowed our shouts. We repeated 

 this performance several times ; then we broke 

 down. 



All speed boats break down when most 

 needed the speedier they are the more com- 

 plete the collapse. I have owned several, and 

 to me their habits are so well known that I 

 am never surprised, never resentful. I endure 

 their behavior with Christian fortitude, expect 



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