Finally, as if in response to some
secret signal, the darkness began its inevitable retreat and, as the
night horizon receded, out of the gray of the morning, growing more and
more distinct as the shadows fell away, appeared a dark object less than
two miles distant, nebulous at first, then unmistakable in its
character. It was a solitary fishing vessel lying at anchor, toward
which we had been rowing and drifting unerringly all through the night
and the day before.
There it was! only a clumsy old fisherman, but it was the best thing in
all the world to us, and it was anchored and could not get away!
I do not recall the experience of any tumultuous emotion as this
messenger of hope appeared on our horizon, but we knew that we were
safe. How easy it is to write this simple word of four letters! but, to
realize it, one must have a background of despair. Since that morning,
the words "safe," "safety," "salvation," have always come to me
freighted with reality.
It is doubtful if any of the vessel's crew had seen our boat, as it was
scarcely daylight and such a small object lying close to the water would
not be readily discernible.
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