Now began a struggle for life.
I had much to fight for, everything that could nerve a man to deeds of valor, for love leads the world as an incentive.
Desperately I fought.
There were times when it seemed as though the end were nigh—when the relentless waves almost tore me away from my precious charge in spite of my care in binding myself to her.
How tenaciously I clung, with set teeth and hands that almost cracked under the pressure.
Then the tension would relax, and I was able to recover my breath to some extent, preparatory to the next wild plunge.
Bad as the situation seemed, I knew there must be others who were even worse off—who had already been beaten into insensibility by the waves, and for whom all hope had fled.
I saw nothing of them, though this was not strange, with such a vast ocean around us.
For Hildegarde my fears were greatest—alone I would have fought a good fight, but not having the holy incentive that nerved my arm now, I might have yielded up the ghost.
Hildegarde was suffering now; it made my heart bleed to realize my utter helplessness to assist her, for whom I would have shed every drop of my blood.