On awakening Friday morning, December 18, they united in prayer for heavenly leading and protection, and encouraged one another. While breakfast was preparing, some of them went down to put their muskets in the shallop, but on the remonstrance of a few who retained their arms, the rest were laid on the bank above the boat. They had no sooner returned to their camp than they were startled by the ringing war-whoop, and one of their own number came running from the woods, calling to them, "Men, men! Indians, Indians!" A shower of arrows sought the barricade, transfixing some of the hanging coats. Fortunately the prudent four who had kept their weapons made good use of them, and some who had armor donned it and with their swords accompanied their comrades in a rush to the bank for the muskets, the Indians racing to intercept them but in vain. The weapons carelessly left were now discharged with a quieting effect, the savages soon retreating, without losses on either side. To increase their fear, the colonists pursued them a little way, shouting and firing. Then, thanking God for their deliverance, they embarked and went up the west shore northward. It was an uninviting coast. But Robert Coppin encouraged them in the hope of reaching before dark that harbor he had visited, though these were the shortest days of the year and thick weather was setting in fast, followed by snow and rain in the afternoon, a south-east storm rising. Their rudder broke under the strain, and two men were required to steer with oars the heavy shallop, which someone has considered as about thirty feet in length. It was shelterless, without deck or house. Finally their pilot gave the cheering news that he could discern the harbor. As the daylight was lessening and the tempest increasing, they risked too much sail with the intention of clearing the rocks at the entrance while they could see. Suddenly the overburdened mast snapped in three pieces and the sail went overboard, nearly capsizing the little vessel. Righting her quickly, and riding in by the oars with the tide aiding, their guide, however, failed to recognize the place in the deepening twilight. Trying to run ashore in the cove of Saquish, the breakers were so huge and thunderous there, that a seaman, wisely foreseeing disaster, protested and they turned away. But soon was heard a gentler wash against some protected beach, to which the oarsmen pulled. Grounding the keel, some of them gladly leaped out, feeling with inexpressible relief the solid strand beneath their feet. The others, remembering the encounter of early morning, remained in the shallop till after midnight, when a bitter clearing wind drove them ashore to the fire which their fellows had managed to kindle. There they all awaited the dawn.