Once fairly out again into the harbour, I saw two things that were but little to my satisfaction. Far away up the river were three more canoes. I understood at once that the savages whom we had just worsted were the mere vanguard of the Black Abbe's attack. The new-comers, however, were so far behind that I had excellent hopes of eluding them. The second matter that gave me concern was the strong head-wind that had suddenly arisen. The look of the sky seemed to promise, moreover, that what was now a mere blow might soon become a gale. It was already kicking up a sea that hindered us. Most women would have been terrified at it, but Mizpah seemed to have no thought of fear. We pressed on doggedly. There was danger ahead, I knew,--a very serious danger, which would tax all my skill to overcome. But the danger behind us was the more menacing. I felt that there was nothing for it but to face the storm and force a passage around the cape. This accomplished,--if we could accomplish it,--I knew our pursuers would not dare to follow. About sundown, though the enemy had drawn perceptibly nearer, I concluded that we must rest and gather our strength. I therefore ran in behind a little headland, the last shelter we could hope for until we should get around the cape. There we ate a hearty meal, drank from a tiny spring, and lay stretched flat on the shore for a quarter of an hour. Then, after an apprehensive look at the angry sea, and a prayer that was earnest enough to make up for some scantness in length, I cried:-- "Come now, comrade, and be brave." "I am not afraid, Monsieur," she answered quietly. "If anything happens, I know it will not be because you have failed in anything that the bravest and truest of men could hope to do." "I think that God will help us," said I. That some one greater than ourselves does sometimes help us in such perils, I know, whatever certain hasty men who speak out of a plentiful lack of experience may declare to the contrary. But whether this help be a direct intervention of God himself, or the succour of the blessed saints, or the watchful care of one's guardian spirit, I have never been able to conclude to my own satisfaction. And very much thought have I given to the matter by times, lying out much under the stars night after night, and carrying day by day my life in my hands. However it might be, I felt sustained and comforted as we put out that night. The storm was now so wild that it would have been perilous to face in broad daylight and with a strong man at the bow paddle. Yet I believed that we should win through. I felt that my strength, my skill, my sureness of judgment, were of a sudden made greater than I could commonly account them.