No boat had been sent; there was, therefore, nothing more for him
to do here. No boat had been sent, because he had forfeited his
place here. Like savage beasts, with bristles erect, the peaks and
islands arrayed themselves against him. "Row on, my lads," he
cried, for now arose again in him that dormant power which only
manifested itself in his utmost need.
"How is it with you, my boy? I am growing weary. Courage, now, and
forward!"
Again that voice outside himself--a man's voice. Was it his
father's?
Whether or not it were his father's voice, here before his
father's home he would struggle against Fate.
In man's direst necessity, what he has failed in and what he can
do seem to encounter each other. And thus, just as the boat had
cleared the point and the islands and was turning into the bay, he
raised himself to his full height, and the boatmen looked at him
in astonishment. He still grasped the rudder-lines, and looked as
though he were about to meet an enemy. Or did he hear anything?
was it the sound of oars?
Yes, they heard them now as well. From the strait near the inlet a
boat was approaching them.
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