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approach is by the book. Airspeed is eighty miles per hour. Propellers
are in low pitch. Throttles are at 1300 RPM. Mixture is full rich.
Carburetor heat is off. Wheels are down and visually verified. Flaps
are down.
It is late on the morning of Friday, July 2nd, 1937. The woman
at the controls and the man beside her have been flying for nearly
twenty-four hours. They are tired, half-deaf, and they smell a bit,
but at this moment they are greatly relieved to have found this
island. The tide is low, exposing an inviting expanse of smooth
coral that stretches more than half a mile to the wreck of an old
freighter. If they can land, figure out where they are, and call
for help, perhaps theyll eventually be able to refuel, take
off and continue their journey. Wisps of condensation trail from
the Electras wingtips in the warm, humid air as the pilot
begins her final approach
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