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Criss-crossed by shallow tidal creeks.
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Chickchaw territory.
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There are no paved roads, but...
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Here comes Jed with the mail.
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But instead many miles of intersecting footpaths and dirt trails,
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and a ferry that runs twice daily from Stone Cove.
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The year is 1965.
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We are on the far edge of Black Beacon Sound,
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famous for the ferocious and well-documented storm,
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which will strike from the east on the 5th of September.
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In three days' time.
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Morning, Gadge.