CHAPTER XVII.
HOW THEY CAME TO BARBADOS, AND FOUND NO MEN THEREIN "The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out; At one stride comes the dark." COLERIDGE.
Land! land! land! Yes, there it was, far away to the south and west, beside the setting sun, a long blue bar between the crimson sea and golden sky.

Land at last, with fresh streams, and cooling fruits, and free room for cramped and scurvy-weakened limbs.

And there, too, might be gold, and gems, and all the wealth of Ind.

Who knew?
Why not?
The old world of fact and prose lay thousands of miles behind them, and before them and around them was the realm of wonder and fable, of boundless hope and possibility.

Sick men crawled up out of their stifling hammocks; strong men fell on their knees and gave God thanks; and all eyes and hands were stretched eagerly toward the far blue cloud, fading as the sun sank down, yet rising higher and broader as the ship rushed on before the rich trade-wind, which whispered lovingly round brow and sail, "I am the faithful friend of those who dare!" "Blow freshly, freshlier yet, thou good trade-wind, of whom it is written that He makes the winds His angels, ministering breaths to the heirs of His salvation.
Blow freshlier yet, and save, if not me from death, yet her from worse than death.