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as her tears。 There was a relief； though； for by this sign she
knew that she was drifting with the tide。 It was then the wind
went down； and the great and awful silence oppressed her。 There
was scarcely a ripple against the furrowed sides of the great trunk
on which she rested； and around her all was black gloom and quiet。
She spoke to the baby just to hear herself speak； and to know that
she had not lost her voice。 She thought thenit was queer； but
she could not help thinking ithow awful must have been the night
when the great ship swung over the Asiatic peak； and the sounds of
creation were blotted out from the world。 She thought； too； of
mariners clinging to spars； and of poor women who were lashed to
rafts； and beaten to death by the cruel sea。 She tried to thank
God that she was thus spared； and lifted her eyes from the baby；
who had fallen into a fretful sleep。 Suddenly； away to the
southward； a great light lifted itself out of the gloom； and
flashed and flickered； and flickered and flashed again。 Her heart
fluttered quickly against the baby's cold cheek。 It was the
lighthouse at the entrance of the bay。 As she was yet wondering；
the tree suddenly rolled a little； dragged a little； and then
seemed to lie quiet and still。 She put out her hand and the
current gurgled against it。 The tree was aground； and； by the
position of the light and the noise of the surf； aground upon the
Dedlow Marsh。
Had it not been for her baby； who was ailing and croupy； had it not
been for the sudden drying up of that sensitive fountain； she would
have felt safe and relieved。 Perhaps it was this which tended to
make all her impressions mournful and gloomy。 As the tide rapidly
fell； a great flock of black brent fluttered by her； screaming and
crying。 Then the plover flew up and piped mournfully as they
wheeled around the trunk； and at last fearlessly lit upon it like a
gray cloud。 Then the heron flew over and around her； shrieking and
protesting； and at last dropped its gaunt legs only a few yards
from her。 But； strangest of all； a pretty white bird； larger than
a dovelike a pelican； but not a pelicancircled around and
around her。 At last it lit upon a rootlet of the tree； quite over
her shoulder。 She put out her hand and stroked its beautiful white
neck； and it never appeared to move。 It stayed there so long that
she thought she would lift up the baby to see it； and try to
attract her attention。 But when she did so； the child was so
chilled and cold； and had such a blue look under the little lashes
which it didn't raise at all； that she screamed aloud； and the bird
flew away； and she fainted。
Well； that was the worst of it； and perhaps it was not so much；
after all； to any but herself。 For when she recovered her senses
it was bright sunlight； and dead low water。 There was a confused
noise of guttural voices about her； and an old squaw； singing an
Indian 〃hushaby；〃 and rocking herself from side to side before a
fire built on the marsh； before which she； the recovered wife and
mother； lay weak and weary。 Her first thought was for her baby；
and she was about to speak； when a young squaw； who must have been
a mother herself； fathomed her thought and brought her the
〃mowitch；〃 pale but living； in such a queer little willow cradle
all bound up； just like the squaw's own young one； that she laughed
and cried together； and the young squaw and the old squaw showed
their big white teeth and glinted their black eyes and said；
〃Plenty get well； skeena mowitch；〃 〃wagee man come plenty soon；〃
and she could have kissed their brown faces in her joy。 And then
she found that they had been gathering berries on the marsh in
their queer； comical baskets； and saw the skirt of her gown
fluttering on the tree from afar； and the old squaw couldn't resist
the temptation of procuring a new garment； and came down and
discovered the 〃wagee〃 woman and child。 And of course she gave the
garment to the old squaw； as you may imagine； and when HE came at
last and rushed up to her； looking about ten years older in his
anxiety； she felt so faint again that they had to carry her to the
canoe。 For； you see； he knew nothing about the flood until he met
the Indians at Utopia； and knew by the signs that the poor woman
was his wife。 And at the next high tide he towed the tree away
back home； although it wasn't worth the trouble； and built another
house； using the old tree for the foundation and props； and called
it after her； 〃Mary's Ark！〃 But you may guess the next house was
built above high…water mark。 And that's all。
Not much； perhaps； considering the malevolent capacity of the
Dedlow Marsh。 But you must tramp over it at low water； or paddle
over it at high tide； or get lost upon it once or twice in the fog；
as I have； to understand properly Mary's adventure； or to
appreciate duly the blessings of living beyond High…Water Mark。