group of hunters were sailing by Ship Trap Island on Wednesday, August 6th, 2003. The night was thick and dark, "like moist black velvet," described Rainsford.
Rainsford was puffing on his favorite brier, when suddenly he heard a faint gunshot. Twice. Thrice. Curiosity leapt through his mind just like the bullets. He jumped onto the railing, but as he was doing so, a rope snatched the pipe from his mouth.
"As I reached for my pipe, I lost my balance as the warm sea devoured me in. I swam less than fifty feet and realized I had no hope of getting back. My partners were already in deep sleep to hear my cry." Rainsford described.
He swam in the direction form which he heard the shots. He started to count his strokes when a scream from an animal in horror pierced through the night.
"I was in shock, and did not even bother to think what it was either.
My thoughts were cut short as I heard another shot." said Rainsford.
He pushed himself for another ten minutes, as he finally reached shore. He dragged himself out of the waters. Then as he reached a jungle, he could not heave himself any further, he dropped down and fell asleep. He woke up late in the afternoon and continued to explore the jungle. Suddenly he stopped.
"As I looked around, I noticed that the weeds and the underbrush were crushed, and there were peculiar crimson stains. A silver object caught my eye. I picked it up and it turned out to be an empty cartridge. It seemed quite small for an animal which put up a big fight"
As he looked down, he saw footprints leading in the direction in which he was going. Eagerness pushed him on further as...