O-tcha-kee dropped to his knees and covered his face from the bright image before him.  Daring to peek, he saw the fiery ball wink out.  There was a strange hissing sound.  Scanning the beach, O-tcha-kee noticed violent movement in a great oak towering above the highest dune on a spit of land about a mile to their left.  The loud crack of a broken limb carried on the light morning breeze.  Na-tay-atch-sa declared to the gathering boys that it must be the visitation of a god.  Baskets of coquina hoisted to their backs, they set off to investigate.  Though the morning air was still cool, O-tcha-kee's throat felt dry and his heart pounded.

 

The small boat held only two of the wrecked ship's survivors.  Tossed upon the waves for half the night, the two rejoiced when the waters calmed enough to give them hope that their lives were spared.  In the dim light, land could be seen nearby.  Surely, God had delivered them!  Taking turns paddling with the one oar left them, they slowly made their way to shore.