With sail and paddle they urged the craft
on toward the island.
Then night fell, and with it squalls of wind and rain came
and buffeted them till they had to forsake the paddles for the
bailing-vessels to keep the boat afloat. Taking down the sails they
spread them flat to catch the pouring rain, and then poured this
precious fresh water--true water of life to them--into their
calabashes. But when morning came no land could be seen anywhere. It
was as though the island had been a land of enchantment and mirage,
and now had faded away. Yet hope sprang in them erect and glad next
day when land was sighted again; but the sea and the wind, as though
driven by the spirits of contrariness, smote them back.
For two more days they guided the canoe with the tiller and tried to
set her in one steady direction. Then, tired and out of heart, after
sixteen days of ceaseless and useless effort, they gave it up and let
her drift, for the winds and currents to take her where they would.
At night each man stood in his canoe almost starving and parched with
thirst, with aching back, stooping to dip the water from the canoe and
rising to pour it over the side. For hour after hour, while the calm
moon slowly climbed the sky, each slaved at his dull task.
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