Other victories would follow. This island today, he thought. Mindanao the day after tomorrow. If only I can get back to the fleet before we tackle Mindanao, he thought with a touch of despair. “God, send someone to pick me up,” he prayed. “Please God, I don’t know much. Give me wisdom. Help me to get food from the sea and the sky. Send me back to my buddies.” After that there didn’t seem to be much left to do but rest, relax, and watch for smoke on the horizon or a plane in the sky. The rumble from the west died away, then rose again. The battle might last all day. Cruisers and destroyers would move in to shell Jap positions. The carrier would stand by. Perhaps the task force would slip away under cover of darkness. “If it does that, I’ll be sunk,” he murmured disconsolately. He had managed to bring along a small canteen. He took a sip of water. He recalled that you were supposed to be able to get water by pressing out fish meat. He’d have to try that. The sun was hot. It had been a tough night. He was tired and his head ached. Finally he stretched himself out and fell asleep. A little more than an hour later he awoke with a start, clutched at his head with sudden violence, and grasped something hard and horny with each hand. He held on grimly, though his head and shoulders were being beaten unmercifully by something hard and sharp as a crowbar. He let out a gasp as some knifelike thing cut at his wrist, but still he held on. At last, half standing up, he gave a mighty heave to bring a great bird with a ten-foot wing spread, down upon his raft. “Oh! A gony!” he exclaimed. “You rascal! You nearly wrecked me! What were you doing on top of my head? Resting? Well, I’ll give you a good, long rest!” The bird was an albatross, largest of all sea birds. Ted had learned a great deal about them from the old sailors, who called them gonies. They followed ships for thousands of miles, sleeping on the sea, or soaring miles on end, with their long, narrow wings spread wide. This one, beyond a doubt, had been following their task force, but had been frightened away by the big guns. “What’ll I do with you?” he demanded of the bird. His answer was a snap on the ankle from its powerful jaws. “I should kill and eat you,” he exclaimed. “You’re worse than a Jap! But I won’t—not yet. Men don’t eat gonies unless they have to. It’s supposed to bring bad luck. I’ll tie you up, that’s what I’ll do. Then we’ll try our luck together. If I’m rescued, you go free. If not, you get eaten.” The gony winked as if he really understood. Then for good measure, he nipped at Ted’s ankle once more. “You’ll be some company,” Ted said, as after binding the bird’s feet, he fastened a wide strap taken from his parachute about its wings and body.