by John H Marsh
From the top of the sand dune we looked down on the long-abandoned camp site.
There were still some of the uprights that had once been parts of unlucky ships,
that had supported the rude shelters of the castaways. Almost lost to sight under
the sand covering were planks, pieces of canvas and bits of rope. There were bottles too.
I found one with a hole the size of a 20 cent piece worn through its exposed side by the action of the windblown sand.
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