Lord, and his wonders in the deep. For he commandeth, and raiseth the
stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the
heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because
of trouble... they are at their wits' end. Then they cry unto the Lord
in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses. He
maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are
they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them unto their desired
haven."

I had drifted into the "secret place," the door was shut, and it was the
right time and place for me to pray. I saw that my life had been a
failure, that I was absolutely worthless, and that, if death came then,
there was not one good thing that I had ever done that would survive. In
fact, I could think of nothing in my life that was worth remembering. I
was not so much concerned about my own salvation as for another chance
to live and to do an unselfish work in the world. And so I did what I
thought then (and think still) was the only sane thing to do, I signaled
for the Pilot.

That night the rain came. I spread my oil jacket and caught an abundance
of water of which we drank deeply. With this refreshment came new hope
and new courage for the final struggle, if safety could be gained that
way. I reviewed the situation and considered one by one the possible
courses we might take. We seemed to be shut in to three things. The
first possibility was to row to land; but the nearest land, the
Newfoundland coast, was nearly three hundred miles away, and I decided
that we did not have the time or the strength to reach it. The second
possibility was to be picked up by a passing vessel; but this did not
look encouraging, for two had already passed us. The third and last hope
was to find a fishing vessel at anchor, and within a reasonable