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(Click here to return to the previous segment) While the pilot's last sensation as he crashed into the water was one of cold, actually the water was quite warm after a whole summer of sunny days. The fish who lived in the lake stayed near the bottom, or in areas cooled by fresh springs that fed the lake. No people came near here. The farm that the pilot had struggled to reach was overgrown and deserted, now used only as a hunting cabin by city people who came bumping over the rutted lane from the distant highway during deer season. For several days after the crash, other airplanes flew back and forth over the area, people searching for the downed craft in a vast wilderness. Finally, even these flights became rare. As the temperature of the lake changed with the season, the craft became more buoyant, and gradually—over weeks—it floated to just beneath the surface. More time passed, and a hollow wing strut developed a leak and slowly filled with water. This disturbed the delicate balance in the wreckage, and the wing tilted ever-so-slowly downward. At first, surface tension of the water held the opposite wing on the surface, but eventually the air trapped inside the wing became warmer from the sun, making it lighter, and the wing lifted clear of the water. Freed from the surface tension, the wing rose slowly, and water that had entered small places found its way back out, lightening the wing even more. There it stayed, sloping upward with its tip a few inches above the surface. Then one bright winter afternoon, the aircraft slowly rolled over in the water, and the wing lifted gracefully into the air like a dancer’s slender arm, reflecting the low sun. |