Thus they drifted and wandered far out on the blue expanse, like tiny specks on the line betwixt heaven and earth, while their thoughts roamed tauntingly through weird vagaries of legionary mysticism. Then suddenly the heavens darkened, the winds blew, and the seas angered. Even Shibusawa became not without a reverence for the ancestral gods. The cracking of the timbers, the cries of the drowning, the fear of destruction, these had certainly been enough to inspire feelings of respect if not reverence for that which had once been all and all to him. He came upon deck and there witnessed the power of religion over men. His oldest veterans, tried and found true on many a battle-field, were there lying prostrate before their chosen gods. He too may have reverenced Bishamon, for he knelt and remained silent in the momentary calm. And as he there bowed a woman arose from the hatchway before him. He started, and for the nonce lost his reason, appealing to Kwannon to save them. His whole soul had returned at the call of the source whence it came; the body gave what the mind failed. He felt her presence, and all the reason of all the enlightened ages could not have shown him that Takara had not invoked their calamity; for had not the sages of all time said that the presence of a woman on board a man-of-war would bring upon it the wrath of Oni? And was it not said there could be no escaping his fury? These early accounted truths overwhelmed Shibusawa, and for the moment he crouched in startled submission. The hobgoblins of his youth had at last become a stern reality, for there stood before him his own wife in the flesh and form. He would have risen and appealed to her, but she checked him; and coming near, beckoned him be silent, then said: "You would believe me a witch, some demon who has risen from the deep to do you harm. It is not true; I came to save you." Then she drew from her sleeve a blood-stained handkerchief, which she bade him take from her hand. Impulse moved him to do so, and as he touched the crumpled cloth his own consciousness discerned the awful message therein revealed. He held it and listened, half bewildered, half determined. She continued, saying: "Take it, and promise me that you will avenge the wrong, that you will sacrifice your own for your father's blood?" He started, then hesitated; and looking all around, asked: "The storm?" She answered: "Do you promise?" He said: "I do." Then the storm broke afresh upon them; her face brightened, and she leaped over the side of the ship and into the angry sea; and as she sank beneath the foam-tossed waves she smiled sweetly, and he felt and knew her message to be a token of peace.