I don't believe this, George thought, it's too good to be true!
He picked the cone up and moved five feet closer to the water; then he stood the cone up and dropped the weight on it.
The cone went into the sand no farther than it did on the first try.
Jesus! Maybe there's clay or rocks or something here! This can't be right!
He scraped at the sand with his fingers, but could move only an inch or so away without difficulty.
He jumped to his feet and ran fifty yards down the beach and repeated the test. And then he ran a hundred yards down the beach end did it again.
He went back to where he started.
McCoy intercepted him, holding out for him a set of utilities.
"Put these on." Amazingly cheerful, Hart replied, "Afraid I'll get sunburned?"
"For the bugs," McCoy said.
Hart was so excited he'd forgotten he'd been waving his hand in front of his face and swatting at various parts of his body.
When he looked now, he was spotted all over with insect bites.
"The antibug grease is in the first-aid stuff," McCoy said, gesturing toward the Pelican.
Hart nodded.
"How does it look?"
"Too good to be true," Hart said. He pulled the utilities over his swimming trunks and ran farther down the beach.
Five minutes later he ran back to McCoy, who was holding the battery-powered shortwave radio.
"What do I tell them?" McCoy asked.
"Two, repeat Two, this is no mistake, Two," Hart said.
"You're sure?" McCoy said.
"I'm sure," Hart said, beaming.
McCoy put the microphone to his lips.
"Bird, this is Bird One, Over."
"Go ahead, Bird One."
"Message is Two. Repeat Two. This is not a mistake. Two.
Over.
"Understand Two No Mistake Two, Over."
"The message is Two. Over."
"Good luck, you chaps. See you soon. Bird out." McCoy and Hart smiled at each other.
"Wallace is snooping around the boondocks looking for some water for you," McCoy said.
"Good," Hart said.
What the fuck am I so cheerful about? As soon as he finds the water, he and McCoy are going to take off and leave me alone on this fucking beach.
Wallace appeared five minutes later, wearing only a loincloth. There was a compass on a thong around his neck. In one hand he held his Sten gun, and in the other was one of the funny-looking machetes Hart had seen in Townsville. His hair was now dry, and it seemed to have snapped back into place, but not to the carefully configured coiffure Hart had grown used to. Wallace did not now look like a Chief Signalman of the Royal Australian Navy Volunteer Reserve.
He looks like a fucking cannibal.
McCoy told him what Hart's tests of the beach had turned up.
"I thought it might turn out that way," Wallace said thoughtfully. "Once I saw the beach, it occurred to me that the wave action is ideal to pack the sand. And the odd large wave tends to provide the right amount of moisture to keep it from drying out." Hart had no idea whatever what Wallace was talking about.
"I found a place where you might be comfortable," Wallace went on. "And I've been thinking, Lieutenant McCoy, that it would be a rather better idea if you stayed here with Sergeant Hart."
"Why?" McCoy asked.
"No offense, Lieutenant McCoy, but I can move faster alone." Please God, let him agree with Wallace.
"If you think so, OK," McCoy said.
Wallace nodded.
"Well, let me help you two get settled, and then I'll be on my way.
[Two]
ROYAL AUSTRALIAN NAVY COASTWATCHER ESTABLISHMENT
TOWNSVILLE, QUEENSLAND
0555 HOURS 6 OCTOBER 1942
FRD1, KCY. FRD1, KCY. SB CODE OI.
Royal Australian Navy Coastwatcher Radio, This is Commander in Chief Pacific Radio.
Please stand by to receive an encrypted operational immediate message.