were fighting for
places with each other, having loosed from the lee of the ship, were
come among the breakers, which threw them up as a child throws a ball at
play. Even while Nehushta gazed, their crafts were overturned, casting
them into the water, every one there to be dashed against the rocks
or drowned by the violence of the waves, so that not a man of all that
ship's company came living to the shore.

Like tens of thousands of others on this coast in all ages, they
perished, every one of them--and that was the reward of their
wickedness.

Giving thanks to God, Who had brought them out of that danger against
their wills, Nehushta crept back to the cabin and told her mistress what
had passed.

"May they find pardon," said Rachel, shuddering; "but as for us, it will
matter little whether we are drowned in the boat or upon the galley."

"I do not think that we shall drown," answered Nehushta.

"How are we to escape it, Nou? The ship lies upon the rock, where the
great waves will batter her to pieces. Feel how she shakes beneath their
blows, and see the spray flying over us."

"I do not know, mistress; but we shall not drown."

Nehushta was right, for after they had remained fast a little longer
they were saved, thus: Suddenly the wind dropped, then it rose again in
a last furious squall, driving before it a very mountain of water. This
vast billow, as it rushed shorewards, caught the galley in its white
arms and lifted her not only off the rock whereon she lay, but over the
further reefs, to cast her down again upon a bed of sand and shells,
within a stone's throw of the beach, where she remained fast, never to
shift more.

Now also, as though its work were done, the gale ceased, and, as is
common on the Syrian coast, the sea sank rapidly, so that by nightfall
it was calm again. Indeed, three hours before sunset, had both of them
been strong and well, they might have escaped to the land by wading. But
this was not to be, for now what Nehushta had feared befell, and when
she was least fitted to bear it, being worn out with anguish of mind and
weariness of body, pain took sudden hold of Rachel, of which the end was
that, before midnight, there, in that broken vessel upon a barren coast
where no man seemed to live, a daughter was born to her.

"Let me see the child," said Rachel. So Nehushta showed it to her by the
light of a lamp which burned in the cabin.

It was a small child, but very white, with blue e