Read "Papillon" by Henri Charrière online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Quickly, before the sun went down, I crept into the bush, half swimming, half walking, for there was quicksand everywhere. The water penetrated so deeply into the bush that, as night fell, I was still far from dry land. The odor of rot assaulted my nose and the gas was so strong it stung my eyes. My legs were covered with grass and leaves. Each time I took a step, I first felt the ground under the water. I moved forward only when I met resistance.
My first night was spent on the trunk of a fallen tree. I hung my sack high on a branch and closed it tight. That sack was my life-without the coconuts it contained, I'd never survive. I strapped my machete to my right wrist. Then, exhausted, my body burned and itching, I stretched out in a crook of the tree and fell asleep without a thought in my head. Perhaps I murmured "Poor Sylvain! " a couple of times, but I can't be sure.