The Cape May men were vigorous and experienced, and they
did wonders; nor were Rupert and I idle; but, as soon as the sea got
up, it was as much as all four of us could do to keep steerage-way on
the boat. There were ten minutes, during which I really think the boat
was kept head to sea by means of the wash of the waves that drove
past, as we barely held her stationary.
Of course, it was out of the question to continue exertions that were
as useless as they were exhausting. We tried the expedient, however,
of edging to the northward, with the hope of getting more under the
lee of the land, and, consequently, into smoother water; but it did no
good. The nearest we ever got to the light must have considerably
exceeded a league. At length Rupert, totally exhausted, dropped his
oar, and fell panting on the thwart. He was directed to steer, Captain
Robbins taking his place. I can only liken our situation at that
fearful moment to the danger of a man who is clinging to a cliff its
summit and safety almost in reach of his hand, with the consciousness
that his powers are fast failing him, and that he must shortly go
down. It is true, death was not so certain by our abandoning the
effort to reach the land, but the hope of being saved was faint
indeed. Behind us lay the vast and angry Atlantic, without an inch of
visible land between us and the Rock of Lisbon.
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