But rescue was long delayed, and in the early hours of the following day most of us wrote our last farewell to our loved ones--short, tender messages scrawled in pencil--and some of us made our wills. Then, as if by a miracle, three strong strands in the ladder of escape came to us from above. Exactly in what manner this was made possible I cannot tell you. We got air, water, and food, in only the smallest quantities, but just enough to stir us into new life. That was a godsend as welcome as it was unexpected. And we had not to wait long for the opening of our prison door. When the details of that liberation are given it will cause surprise and congratulation everywhere. It verges on the miraculous. When we scrambled into freedom we were a dazed and shaken lot of men, but I warrant you our hearts were full of gratitude to God for saving mercies. It was left to others to give fuller details of the impression caused by the unexpected arrival of the three "strands" in the life ladder. The first was air--life-giving air--which was forced into the stifling compartment from above. The boon came just in time; the prisoners had had about fifty hours of captivity, their last light was burning dimly, and the atmosphere of their prison house was vile. More than one of the company had lost consciousness, but the effect of the tiny air current was instantaneous. The senseless men stirred as if in troubled sleep, and opened their eyes, breathing hard, while those of the company who had stood up to the ordeal with all their senses about them felt instantly the glorious effect of the air draught. The second strand was water--fresh, cold water--also forced down by the splendid salvage party. The quantity was very small--only a sip to each--but, oh! the refreshment of it! "We were parched in lip and mouth and throat," said one of the prisoners, "and never was a drop of water more welcome." The third strand was food, pellets of compressed food. The salvage party had accomplished almost the impossible. And this was not their greatest achievement. It was the forcing of a way of escape for the entombed men that was the marvel. Ingenuity backed up by tireless tenacity, resourcefulness that absolutely refused to own either defeat or despair, triumphed over difficulties that seemed insuperable. What a picture for brush or pen is offered in the scene of rescue in the dead of night, when these dazed prisoners won once again their liberty. They came forth in single file from the prison house. Near the head of the procession was a bronzed sailor, one whose coolness in the dragging hours of extremity had done much to maintain the flickering life of his comrades. He thrust out at arm's length his oilskin, and followed with a wonderfully nimble step, thus providing the only touch of lightness in the grim tragedy.