“‘Again hope began to dawn, which was strengthened on the following night by a flight of fish seemingly attracted by the altar fire, which had continued to burn through the fearful tossings of the vessel when impelled by the merciless tempest urged by the god of the ocean. Revived, with the second sun, the sailors spread the vessel’s sails to a favoring waft of the ocean wind, showing their recognition and resignation to the decrees its providence had ordained. There was no lack of food, for the supply obtained at Rusador for anticipated wants between seedtime and harvest, more than sufficed for prospective requirements, unless the ocean proved boundless. Of luxuries there was also a bountiful supply; dates, dried figs, grapes, and Chian wine. Strange as it may appear, with the revival of our hopes, a large portion of the wine was sacrificed to furnish vessels for treasuring the water preserved by the ship. But with the rising of the eleventh visible sun all the supply of water having been exhausted,—for there were many mouths and great thirst,—despair, which dried up the moisture, began its reign of terror, from the moans of mothers who freely offered their tears to still the wailing cries of their children.
“‘In this condition, when all coveted death to relieve the tortures of thirst, there came on the sixteenth of its rise upon our forlorn hopes at sundown, a waft that made all murmur thanks in their weakness. This was followed with genial showers which brought a reviving consciousness of an overruling presence inspiring a love of life and the blessings of kindred affection. When the clouds, to whose timely benefactions we were beholden for our preservation, were dispersed by the rising sun, our eyes and hearts were gladdened with the sight of land, which called forth tears with whispered rejoicings, and wan smiles of congratulation bestowed with embraces, and hand pressures in thankful praise that we had been once more permitted to see the element from which we had been so long divorced by cruel fate.
“‘Borne onward by a gentle wind from the ocean, we entered a broad estuary whose banks, or shores, were bordered with a forest verdure of trees exceeding in magnitude our previous conceptions. Far off in the interior, as the sun declined, were seen mountains whose summits were clothed in fleecy mists while beneath the varied descent appeared dressed in rainbow tints of moving light and shadow. The banks of the mighty river, or arm of the ocean, became more distinct in the approaching twilight, until darkness with its pall withheld them from view. Again another day dawned; refreshed with the dews of the night we bethought ourselves how we might bring the vessel to land where we could obtain water to quench our thirst, when lo, with the first feeble dip of the oars the trickle of the water inward discovered to a child its freshness. The faint struggles of the oarsmen strengthened with the fear of again being carried out into the ocean, for the current was forcing the vessel backward, were at length rewarded with the stranding of its keel beneath the steep bank of an inlet.