His first and only sense--cleared by fasting and quickened by
reaction--was one of infinite relief. He was not only free from the
vague terrors of the preceding days and nights, but his whole past
seemed to be lost and sunk forever in this illimitable expanse. The low
plain of Tasajara, with its steadfast monotony of light and shadow,
had sunk beneath another level, but one that glistened, sparkled, was
instinct with varying life, and moved and even danced below him. The low
palisades of regularly recurring tules that had fenced in, impeded, but
never relieved the blankness of his horizon, were forever swallowed
up behind him. All trail of past degradation, all record of pain and
suffering, all footprints of his wandering and misguided feet were
smoothly wiped out in that obliterating sea. He was physically helpless,
and he felt it; he was in danger, and he knew it,--but he was free!

Happily there was but little wind and the sea was slight. The raft was
still intact so far as he could judge, but even in his ignorance he
knew it would scarcely stand the surges of the lower bay. Like most
Californians who had passed the straits of Carquinez at night in a
steamer, he did not recognize the locality, nor even the distant peak
of Tamalpais. There were a few dotting sails that seemed as remote,
as uncertain, and as unfriendly as sea birds. The raft was motionless,
almost as motionless as he was in his cramped limbs and sun-dried,
stiffened clothes. Too weak to keep an upright position, without mast,
stick, or oar to lift a signal above that vast expanse, it seemed
impossible for him to attract attention. Even his pistol was gone.

Suddenly, in an attempt to raise himself, he was struck by a flash so
blinding that it seemed to pierce his aching eyes and brain and turned
him sick. It appeared to come from a crevice between the logs at the