ound my way
towards the shore; but on reaching the Great Rock, I could not in the
darkness find the path down again. I groped about till I was tired. I
feared that I might stumble over and be killed; or, if I delayed till
daylight, that the savages would kill me. I knew that one part of the
rock was steep-sloping, with little growth or none thereon, and I
searched about to find it, resolved to commend myself to Jesus and slide
down thereby, that I might again reach the shore and escape for my life.
Thinking I had found this spot, I hurled down several stones and
listened for their splash that I might judge whether it would be safe.
But the distance was too far for me to hear or judge. At high tide the
sea there was deep; but at low tide I could wade out of it and be safe.
The darkness made it impossible for me to see anything. I let go my
umbrella, shoving it down with considerable force, but neither did it
send me back any news.

Feeling sure, however, that this was the place I sought, and knowing
that to await the daylight would be certain death, I prayed to my Lord
Jesus for help and protection, and resolved to let myself go. First, I
fastened all my clothes as tightly as I could, so as not to catch on
anything; then I lay down at the top on my back, feet foremost, holding
my head downwards on my breast to keep it from striking on the rock;
then, after one cry to my Saviour, having let myself down as far as
possible by a branch, I at last let go, throwing my arms forward and
trying to keep my feet well up. A giddy swirl, as if flying through the
air, took possession of me; a few moments seemed an age; I rushed
quickly down, and felt no obstruction till my feet struck into the sea
below. Adoring and praising my dear Lord Jesus, who had ordered it so, I
regained my feet; it was low tide, I had received no injury, I recovered
my umbrella, and, wading through, I found the shore path easier and
lighter than the bush had been. The vary darkness was my safety,
preventing the Natives from rambling about. I saw no person to speak to,
till I reached a village quite near to my own house, fifteen or twenty
miles from where I had started; I here left the sea path and promised
some young men a gift of fish-hooks to guide me the nearest way through
the bush to my Mission Station, which they gladly and heartily did. I
ran a narrow risk in approaching them; they thought me an enemy, and I
arrested their muskets only by a loud cry--