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Once the barge was safely out of sight, Ke
“Okay,” Ke
The men discussed their choices, but in reality there were few. All agreed that as soon as night fell, the other PT boats in their squadron would return to search for them, but how would they be able to intercept the rescuers in the black of night?
“Our only hope is for one of us to try to swim out in the cha
The three officers nodded slowly. They knew the waters around the Solomon Islands contained sharks. That, combined with the Japanese nearby, the strong currents in the water, and the fact that Ke
“Jack,” Ross said, “I don’t think this is wise.”
“What other choice do we have?” Ke
It was a question without answer.
After a few hours of fitful sleep, Ke
With his .38 on a lanyard around his neck, he waded into the water and began to follow an underwater reef to the south toward Ferguson Passage. On the northern edge of the passage lay Nauru Island, bordered with a thick coral plate that caused the waves to crash at heights of up to ten feet. The sound of the breakers made it hard to hear the sound of boat engines, and Ke
Hours passed as he stood in the water, waiting.
Once he thought he heard a boat, and he signaled with the blinker. But it was nothing. For hours he stood, with only the blackness of the water and the feeling of marine life brushing his legs. Once the sun rose, he struggled onto a small island south of Plum Pudding and collapsed.
He was out in the open on the sandy beach, but he was too exhausted to move.
A few miles away, a pair of Reg Evans’s Gizo Scouts, Biuku Gasa and Eroni Kumana, were awakening on Sepu Island. During the night, the Japanese had landed several hundred more troops on Gizo Island, and the two scouts wanted to report this development. Sliding their dugout canoe into the water, they began to paddle toward Kolombangara Island.
While the men were not large by Western standards, just a shade over five feet tall, they were lean and strong. As their canoe paddles bit into the water, they began to chant. It was a song of the sea in their native language, and the cadence carried them forward. Finding some floating debris, they stopped and placed it in the dugout. Implements for shaving, a few olive-drab pieces of cloth, and a letter they could not read. They continued on.
The sun was roasting Ke
Ensign Thorn had posted night guards, but they reported no sign of Ke
“Someone’s approaching,” he said, pointing.
Ross waded into the water and helped Ke
“Okay, John,” Ross replied.
The day passed, waiting for a rescue that did not come.
Johnston and Starkey passed the time trying to catch fish. Zinser tried bathing his burned arms in salt water, but it did not help. Whenever he felt sorry for himself, he had only to look at McMahon. The older man was obviously in pain, but he suffered his discomfort without complaint.
That night Ross waded out into the passage, but again no boats were seen.
REG EVANS HAD explained to Biuku and Eroni about the wreck of PT-109 and asked them to keep an eye out for any survivors. They stayed at Kolombangara to rest before begi
Ke
“Nothing, Jack,” he said disgustedly. “I don’t think they’re looking for us at all.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Ke
He pointed south to an island named Olasana located about two miles away.
“It’s closer to Ferguson Passage, as well as larger,” he said. “Maybe we can find something to eat there. If not, at least we wouldn’t have to swim as far on our nighttime journies.”
Thom was not a strong swimmer, but he was game.
“It looks like the reef runs there,” he said. “We should be able to walk a lot of the distance.”
“Then it’s agreed,” Ke
Tonight would mark the fourth night of the ordeal, but the men took the news well. The tension was taking its toll, and the crew was glad to be doing something. Just waiting for rescue or capture was stressful; doing anything about their situation was preferable. They set off for Olasana Island. Hours later, the crew struggled ashore and made their way into the trees. The currents had proved stronger than expected, and everyone was tired.
That night no one swam into Ferguson Passage. Help would have to find them.
Biuku and Eroni were flying across the water. The sea was slick, and the day’s rest had given them strength. Mr. Evans had shown them the wreckage of a vessel through the spyglass. It had washed ashore on the south side of Nauru Island, where the breakers crashed on the coral reef. They decided to check it out on the way home — maybe there was food or fuel aboard.
“Sitting here doing nothing is killing me,” Ke
“Our planes should be flying over,” Ross agreed. “Maybe there’s a clear spot of sand where we can write a rescue message.”
Leaving Ensign Thom in charge, the two men made the short swim to the southernmost island bordering Ferguson Passage. Because of the islands’ strategic location directly on the passage, Ke