John looked hesitantly at the small plane floating in front of him. He had no choice - there wasn't another sea plane within 30 miles of here. Still, the look he gave the grizzled owner was not one of confidence. "Are you sure this thing can make it to Seacove Island? The old man man grinned, wrinkling his weathered face and showing tobacco stained teeth. He patted the side of the plane fondly. "Ol' Bertha'll take good care of ye." Rubbing his calloused hand over his gray stubble he added, "I filled up the tank fer ye and there's an extra can of fuel behind the passenger seat. Though I don't reckon you'll need it."
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