“When in sight of the landmarks of Heraclea, while offering sacrifice to the gods of their worship, for the prosperous termination of their voyage, a sudden tempest arose which forced their vessel out into the broad Atlantic. For days the storm raged, while before it their bark was driven heedless of mortal control, every moment threatening destruction. At length, after hopeless despair had held them bound in shadowy darkness through a lapse of time unmarked by the full distinctions of day and night, the sun rose clear over a limitless expanse of waters. Still they feared to offer thankful oblations, for they were drifting they knew not whither. In the listless inactivity of despair they had allowed the waters of heaven to accumulate in their vessel mixed with the briny wash of the ocean. As the sun rose in the firmament to its meridian, the heat parched their mouths with thirst, then they recognized the providence of heaven for the supply of water tempered with salt to make it unpalatable for excess. “‘Again hope began to dawn, which was strengthened on the following night by a flight of fish seemingly attracted by the altar fire, which had continued to burn through the fearful tossings of the vessel when impelled by the merciless tempest urged by the god of the ocean. Revived, with the second sun, the sailors spread the vessel’s sails to a favoring waft of the ocean wind, showing their recognition and resignation to the decrees its providence had ordained. There was no lack of food, for the supply obtained at Rusador for anticipated wants between seedtime and harvest, more than sufficed for prospective requirements, unless the ocean proved boundless. Of luxuries there was also a bountiful supply; dates, dried figs, grapes, and Chian wine. Strange as it may appear, with the revival of our hopes, a large portion of the wine was sacrificed to furnish vessels for treasuring the water preserved by the ship. But with the rising of the eleventh visible sun all the supply of water having been exhausted,—for there were many mouths and great thirst,—despair, which dried up the moisture, began its reign of terror, from the moans of mothers who freely offered their tears to still the wailing cries of their children.