But we were now to cruise for a few months among these islands. On Tuesday, September 21st, we were in sight of Henderville’s Island. At sunset, being about eight miles distant from the land, the wind died away, leaving every thing calm, the surface of the water unruffled, not a breath of air stirring, and the sails idly hanging or flapping themselves to and fro. The current was rapidly setting us in-shore. About eight o’clock we lowered a boat, and found we were drifting toward the reef at the rate of two miles per hour. The lights of the native fishermen along the reefs were plainly visible, and the roar of the breakers came to our ears in thunder tones, that sent a thrill through every heart, sounding like a death-knell, or the roaring of some monster anxious for his prey. That land which had appeared so beautiful to us but a few days previous was now hateful to our sight, and oh! how we longed for “plenty of sea-room” again. That island might truly be a “breathing-place” for us, but we feared it would be our last “breathing-place,” for we well knew the disposition of its natives, and were well aware that, should our ship be lost, there was no mercy to be expected from those rapacious savages. Serious thoughts for once filled the mind of every man on board: the visions of those happy homes far away—were we never to visit those homes again? The memories of the many happy days spent with friends—were we never again to enjoy them? After battling the elements thus far, after passing through so many dangers, were we thus to perish—to be thus massacred by a horde of merciless savages, and no one, perhaps, to tell our friends when and how we died? Oh! it was horrible to think of, and caused a shudder of anguish to pass through our every frame. And yet nothing but the interposition of a kind and merciful Providence could avert this fate. Slowly but surely were we drifting into those fatal breakers, and one hour more, one short hour, we felt must decide our fate. Oh, for a breeze! in vain we look for it; in vain we wished for it. All was calm and unruffled. As a last resort, the boats were ordered out, and all hands sprang into them as they never sprang before, and commenced towing the ship. For four long hours did those noble men work at the oars, a battle between life and death, each seemingly striving for the mastery. We were just able, by this constant tugging at the oars, “to hold our own,” to stem the current. About one o’clock in the morning a breeze sprang up, and never, never was wind so welcomed. All hands gave one simultaneous shout, “We are saved!” and returned to the ship with joyous hearts. We could not but thank our heavenly Father for thus preserving us from the horrible fate that at one time seemed so certainly to await us.