After the monstrous storm and the long uncanny silence, they heard a distant rumble. Anarion saw his father's ship move from its position and realized Elendil had cast off. Whatever was coming, there was not a moment to lose.
‘Go,’ he shouted to the captain of his ship.
When the man hesitated and another sailor slowly moved to draw up the anchor, Anarion leant across, drew his sword and began hacking at the anchor-rope. There came a surge, the rope tightened and then gave.
Then the sea rose and swept them away and the sky fell on them.
Numenor was lost to sight, and so was Elendil's ship.
His grandfather's words kept ringing in Anarion's ears as the seas tried to swallow them: ‘Then you shall lose all that you have loved.’ He gritted his teeth. In the ship's cabin, his wife was attempting to nurse his son.
They struggled against towering waves and the black gale until they thought they had indeed tasted death in life. But at last the storm abated. They even found Isildur's ships again.
‘Not all that I have loved! Not all ties are broken,’ said Anarion—and stepped ashore in Pelargir.