Through a dreary day the helpless bark was driven along by the tempest.

Seeing all human skill baffled and confounded, Columbus endeavoured to propitiate heaven by solemn vows, and various private vows were made by the seamen.  The heavens, however, seemed deaf to their vows:  the storm grew still more furious, and every one gave himself up for lost.

During this long and awful conflict of the elements, the mind of Columbus was a prey to the most distressing anxiety.

He was harassed by the repinings of his crew, who cursed the hour of their leaving their country.

He was afflicted also with the thought of his two sons, who would be left destitute by his death.

But he had another source of distress more intolerable than death itself.  In case the Pinta should have foundered, as was highly probable, the history of his discovery would depend upon his own feeble bark.  One surge of the ocean might bury it for ever in oblivion, and his name only be recorded as that of a desperate adventurer.

At this crisis, when all was given up for lost, Columbus had presence of mind enough to retire to his cabin and to write upon parchment a short account of his voyage.

This he wrapped in an oiled cloth, which he enclosed in a cake of wax, put it into a tight cask, and threw it into the sea, in hopes that some fortunate accident might preserve a deposit of so much importance to the world.

But that being which had preserved him through so many dangers still protected him; and happily these precautions were superfluous.

At sunset there was a streak of clear sky in the west; the wind shifted to that quarter, and on the morning of the 15th of February they came in sight of land.

The transports of the crew at once more beholding the old world, were almost equal to those they had experienced on discovering the new.  This proved to be the island of St. Mary, the most southern of the Azores.

After remaining here a few days, the wind proving favourable he again set sail, on the 24th of February.

After two or three days of pleasant sailing, there was a renewal of tempestuous weather.  About midnight of the 2nd of March the caravel was struck by a squall, which rent all her sails and threatened instant destruction.  The crew were again reduced to despair, and made vows of fasting and pilgrimages.

The storm raged through the succeeding day, during which, from various signs they considered that land must be near.  The turbulence of the following night was dreadful; the sea was broken, wild, and mountainous, the rain fell in torrents, and the lightning flashed and the thunder pealed from various parts of the heavens.

In the first watch of this fearful night, the seamen gave the usual welcome cry of land—­but it only increased their alarm, for they dreaded being driven on shore or dashed upon the rocks.  Taking in sail, therefore, they endeavoured to keep to sea as much as possible.  At day-break on the 4th of March they found themselves off the rock of Cintra at the mouth of the Tagus, which you know is the principal river of Portugal.