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