But, the pilot didn't pull back on the throttle-he kept it at full speed. I realized then that he intended to take off this way. I could see death staring me right in the face, and I yelled, "We're doomed!" I drove my feet into the fuselage and my back into the seat. We were no more than fifty feet from shore, when we lifted off the water, with nothing, but hills and large boulders right in our path. We looked at each other as if to say, "This is it." The pilot tried to get more power out of the engine by using different fuel mixtures, more air, and more fuel, and by maneuvering the mixture lever back and forth. Dear God, not yet, I thought. I don't want to die on this beautiful day...
