My clothes disintegrated, victims of the sun and the salt.
First they became gauze-thin. Then they tore until only theseams were left. Lastly, the seams broke. For months I livedstark naked except for the whistle that dangled from my neckby a string.
Salt-water boils – red, angry, disfiguring – were a leprosyof the high seas, transmitted by the water that soaked me.
Where they burst, my skin was exceptionally sensitive;accidentally rubbing an open sore was so painful I would gaspand cry out. Naturally,these boils developed on the parts of my body that got themost wet and the most wear on the raft; that is, my backside.
There were days when I could hardly find a position in whichI could rest. Time and sunshine healed a sore, but the processwas slow, and new boils appeared if I didn't stay dry.