struggle with wind and wave, but his beacon was always there, showing
her the way, and he never doubted for a moment that she would make the
haven. He was sure of it. It was a terrible storm, and there was a
fierce sea beating on the reefs, but a master mind was on the sloop, the
mind of a great sailor, and that mind, responding to his signal of the
fire, the only one that could have been made, was steering the ship
straight for the opening in the reef.

His glasses were always in his pocket, and, remembering them now for the
first time, he clapped them to his eyes. The sloop and her tracery of
mast and spars became distinct. He saw guns on the deck and men, men in
uniform, and he could see well enough, a moment or two later, to tell
that they wore the uniform of Britain. His heart gave a wild throb. The
spirits in the air were good spirits, and the storm had never been able
to drive them away. They had been calling to him when he thought they
were silent, only he had not been able to hear them.

He gave a wild shout of joy that could be heard above the crash of the
storm. Triumph was assured. He was rescuing, and he would be rescued. He
did not realize until that instant how eager he was to be taken from the
island, how he longed, with all his soul, to rejoin his own kind, to see
his friends again and to take a part in the great events that were
shaking the world. He uttered his wild shout over and over, and, in
between, he laughed, laughed with a joy that he could not control.

The sloop entered the opening. It seemed to him that the rocks, those
fearful sharks' teeth, almost grazed her on either side, and his heart
stood still, but she went safely past them, drew into the little harbor
where she was safe from the wildest storm that ever blew, dropped
anchor, and was at rest.