An Air Force bomber had been forced down at sea. For two and a half days Mac, the flight engineer, and six other crewmen had drifted on a life raft before arriving at an island in the South Pacific known to contain cannibals.
After they had set up camp, a single native appeared during the night and then vanished as quickly as he’d come. «It’s only a matter of time now,» the airplane captain had warned. «He’ll be back with others, and we’ll end up as supper.»
The copilot shook his head. «Maybe not,» he said. «I’ve been told that missionaries have been coming to these remote islands for years. Maybe he was a Christian native.»
The next night a flickering light appeared on the shore followed by a line of very dark, very large men. The tail gunner unlatched his pistol as the others aimed whatever weapon they had at the approaching group. «Hold your fire,» the captain called. «They’re not armed.»
As the man in the lead reached camp, he held up his hand. In it was a Bible. Then, to the relief of the airmen, he read a passage from it in broken English.
Mac shook his head. What were the odds? They’d crash-landed on the open sea, sailed in a life raft for two and a half days, and then bumped into an island where missionaries had turned cannibals into Christians. Later, safe and sound in a military hospital, the soldier said, «You can tell the world that I’m now a devout Christian. Those islanders showed us how Jesus can change lives.