I stood transfixed with dread forebodings. I could feel the beads of perspiration break from my forehead and trickle down my cheeks. Must I give up and return home, broken in spirits, humiliated, the butt of ridicule, the target of village wit, the subject of mirth and laughter in every peasant’s cottage?
Oh, no! It can not, it must not be!
Like a flash of lightning, a thought flamed across the dark horizon of my mind.
Am I not dreaming? Was it really so?
One of the wooden structures still remained. Controlling my emotion with great difficulty, I ordered it thrown into the channel and took up a favorable position to watch once again the wrath of the towering sentinel! In a few moments “Thor’s Hammer” felt the coming of the craft and bent itself in impotent rage beating the air with blows which fell faster and faster! Ay, I was right! When once Thor’s Hammer had begun its labor of death and ruin, it turned not from its task, so long as there remained any object for it to spend its fury upon!
Nor was there any escape for the ill-fated craft until it had been pounded into flinders! Hanging over it, blow followed blow with fearful clash and clamor. Not until the poor remnant had drifted seaward, did that black and flinty shaft cease its furious swinging.
Turning to my sailing-master, who stood with his wondering eyes fixed full upon me, I called out in a calm and careless tone: “In three days, skipper, if the weather is clear, we leave Port No Man’s Port!”
A lump rose up in his throat, but he gulped it down, and cried out merrily:
“Ay, ay, sir.”
And what three busy days they were, too! My men were not long in catching something of the indomitable spirit of their new commander. I worked them hard, but I fed them well, served out grog with a liberal, but wise hand, and saw that all their wants were satisfied. In turn, their wonderment became admiration, and their admiration affection.