Excerpt
The waters, fleets and marshes of the Blackwater Estuary, extending Easterly toward the North Sea, looked strange and unreal in the early morning light. John Francis had known the area from early childhood and now surveyed the scene with mixed feelings of familiarity and excitement at the prospect of his homecoming. He banked the Cessna to port, steadying on a bearing of 30 degrees magnetic, Just ahead he could see the outline of Osea Island, his final destination. There was just two miles now to his objective. This would not be an easy landing. A steep descent, full flaps, flaring-out just above the sea wall that bordered the Southern end of the small grass field.