"When we got on board they were heaving up the anchor, and had nearly succeeded in getting under way, when, to the general consternation, our windlass broke again in a second place. Here was a dilemma. What to do was for a moment doubtful. To delay longer would be almost giving up the voyage; to go to sea thus would be unwise. One remedy alone was open to us. Sterry declared he could manage it if we had the screw-plate and certain gear in the blacksmith's shop that had been used in the repairs before. It was left to me to broach the subject to the governor, and after a consultation with him he generously granted what was desired. A boat was sent off for the articles, and upon its return sail was made on the ships. A last leave-taking in the cabin took place, and finally the governor, his officials, and all the good people of Holsteinborg left us under repeated cheers. A few minutes later, and Otto and Lars, the two noble pilots, also departed, and we were once more alone to ourselves, the Rescue following us.
"After our friends had gone I watched with long and eager gaze the receding mountains, especially the one I had ascended on July 14th. It was midnight, and the northern sky flooded in crimson light—the east and the west tinged with mellower hue—the long ridge of mountains, reaching far south, and far north sharply cutting their contour upon the sky, formed a glorious picture to the eye! The mountains looked black as Erebus in contrast with the red and glowing clouds that were behind, so that only a profile could be taken of them. As they faded in the distance, so was shut out the very spot where Holsteinborg lay; but not so was effaced the memory of it and its generous inhabitants while life exists within me!"
