Her mind wandered slowly, pondering these trivial matters, as drowsiness gradually spread with the warmth.
Maybe Philip Shaw will die tomorrow, or maybe he'll remain in this vegetative state; on this island that almost retains a primitive tribal style, thinking about such matters is really meaningless.
If he dies, she'll find a place to bury him; if he doesn't... what difference does it make?
All around is the boundless ocean, and the boats on the island can only circle nearby, unable to go further.
The greatest likelihood is that they'll be trapped on this island for a lifetime. She really doesn't care... but once Philip Shaw wakes up, he would probably wish he had died in the explosion.
Letting a man like him live in such a primitive tribe is simply a waste of talent; no matter how influential he was in the outside world, here his greatest role could only be to go fishing to make a living...
