The long day of excitement was over.

Mariners slept, adventurers gentle and simple, the twelve friars and Father Buil.

Seventeen ships, nigh fifteen hundred men of Europe, swinging with the tide before the land we were to make Spanish.
The watch raised a cry.

Springing from his bed Juan Lepe came on deck to find there confusion, and under the moon in the clear water, swimming forms, swimming from us in a kind of desperate haste and strength.

There was shouting to man the boat.