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"Yes, there is a baby."
I could not shout or speak any more. There was no need. God had delivered you. "The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms." The promise of December 6th, the message in the sky was fulfilled! You had come through fire and water. None of us slept that night. The ship buzzed with excitement. We lay alongside a wharf in neutral territory, - the next best to our own-"Africa's sunny fountains." You would know we had arrived. August 28th the port officials boarded early and began checking passengers. Our last meal on board was gulped in order to get back on deck. Knowing ship routine, I carefully tagged the Portuguese immigration officials. I kept close to the Purser's office, and when I saw the Purser with a stack of landing cards in his hands I said, "Cook, C-O-O-K," spelling it slowly. "Ah, yes, C-O-O-K." He rummaged through his card pile and gave me mine - a landing card. My, how I thanked him. I yelled, "Banzai" and started for the gangway. Looking over my shoulder I saw a horde of passengers closing in on the Purser's office. Down the gangway I fled, and on to NEUTRAL soil. No bewildered natives were there to welcome me to this "San Salvador", but there was the reporter for the London Times. He said, "Cook, don't bother to cable your people. Your story will be in all the British papers tomorrow. Save your money." Our story had a human interest, father, mother, and six children traveling on three different steamers with reunion in Lourenco Marques. [Luther's version is a bit different as he recalls the way Dad told it to him. He writes, "In the verbal account it was Dad who went to the telegraph office only to find the line extending out the door. At that moment he heard a broad Scotch accent and turned around to find a reporter from a Scottish paper (Glasgow I think). In exchange for an exclusive story, Dad got the reporter to promise to end his article with,
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