Upon the raging sea, we sailed, unable to find even an island to land. The wind twisted and turned, swirling quickly, dragging the boat to and fro, while the fierceness of the ocean's waves, banged against the boat threatening to pull it underneath the ocean. Captain Tyler begged us to get below lest we be swept overboard, but I could not. I would rather face a storm in all its fury than to be stuck in a room below wondering if we would make it. Hero had also refused and here we stood in a torrential downpour willing the savage seas to calm. Several turns of the moon we sailed in smooth waters, but the sun did not turn this morning. The darkness of the storm approached and the sun never shone. I did not fear. God had sent us on this journey for a reason and I am sure it was not to die. As I had many times before I was sent to rescue survivors. I was not sure where we were going but I knew God would guide us. What once had been Cuba no longer existed. Many of the islands that had once been where no more, so we continued to sail through the storm. We were getting close to our destination; I could feel it. I also noticed the storm was lessening in intensity. The rain had stopped, the winds had eased, and the waters calmed. All our thanks went to God as the huge sailboat leveled out. The sun had appeared and its rays added a brightness to the rainbow that appeared there