Others besides M.Aubert offered up prayers for the safe-landing of the rescued and rescuers.

Presently an ancient fisherman broke out into a rude sailor's chanty, and every voice, even those of the two Huguenots, took it up: "When the Four Winds, the Wrestlers, strive with the Sun, When the Sun is slain in the dark; When the stars burn out, and the night cries To the blind sea-reapers, and they rise, And the water-ways are stark-- God save us when the reapers reap! When the ships sweep in with the tide to the shore, And the little white boats return no more; When the reapers reap, Lord give Thy sailors sleep, If Thou cast us not upon the shore, To bless Thee evermore: To walk in Thy sight as heretofore Though the way of the Lord be steep! By Thy grace, Show Thy face, Lord of the land and the deep!" The song stilled at last.

It died away in the roar of the surf, in the happy cries of foolish women, and the laughter of men back from a dangerous adventure.

As the Seigneur's boat was drawn up the shore, Angele threw herself into the arms of Michel de la Foret, the soldier dressed as a priest.
Lempriere of Rozel stood abashed before this rich display of feeling.
In his hottest youth he could not have made such passionate motions of affection.

His feelings ran neither high nor broad, but neither did they run low and muddy.