Under the best possible
conditions a boat-run of one hundred and fifty miles in the North
Atlantic and in winter weather would have been a feat of no mean merit,
but in the circumstances it required uncommon nerve and skill to carry
out such a promise. With an oar for a mast and the boat-cover cut down
for a sail they started on their dangerous journey, with the boat compass
and the stars for their guide. The captain's undaunted serenity buoyed
them all up against despondency. He told them what point he was making
for. It was Ronas Hill, "and we struck it as straight as a die."
The chief engineer commends also the ship steward for the manner in which
he made the little food they had last, the cheery spirit he manifested,
and the great help he was to the captain by keeping the men in good
humour. That trusty man had "his hands cruelly chafed with the rowing,
but it never damped his spirits."
They made Ronas Hill (as straight as a die), and the chief engineer
cannot express their feelings of gratitude and relief when they set their
feet on the shore. He praises the unbounded kindness of the people in
Hillswick.
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