Under the rays of the morning sun, the tide had risen, and a piece of driftwood kept bumping against my feet.
Shirley woke up with a start. She opened her eyes and let out a surprised cry.
Dozens of wooden logs could be seen drifting back and forth on the beach, pushed by the waves.
I frowned and muttered, "Damn it, it's only been forty hours, and the raft has already fallen apart."
By my estimation, the raft should have been able to withstand the impact of the waves for at least ten days.
But in just forty hours, it had completely disintegrated, turning into loose pieces of wood floating in the water.
I dragged the pieces of wood onto the beach and inspected them carefully.
Sure enough, these were the materials I had used to build the raft. They still bore the marks I had left duri
