Marie-Louise was crouched in the stern
supporting Gaston's head upon her lap. Jean could not see her face.
When he dared take his eyes for an instant from the racing waves behind
her, he looked at her, but he could not see her face--it was bent
always over Gaston's head. And a fear grew heavy in Jean's heart--the
old fisherman had not moved since he, Jean, had found the other on the
reef. Once he shouted at Marie-Louise, shouted out the fear that was
upon him--but she only shook her head.

The rain had stopped--he noticed the fact with a strange shock of
surprise--surprise that he had not noticed it before, as though it were
something extraneous to his surroundings. And then he remembered that
as he had stood outside the Bas Rhone he had seen that the wind had
changed, and had told himself that by morning it would be better
weather. He glanced above him. The storm wrack was still there; but
it was broken now, and the low, flying clouds seemed thinner--yes, by
morning it would be bright sunshine, and of the storm only the heavy
sea would be left.

He gave his eyes to the tumbling waters again--and, suddenly, with a
great cry, began to pull until it seemed his arms must break. Roaring
behind them, a giant wave was on the point of breaking--closer it
came--closer--he yelled to Marie-Louise:

"Hold fast, Marie-Louise! Hold fast!"

And then it was upon them.

For a moment it was a vortex--a white, swirling flood of water churned
to lather. It hid the stern of the boat, hid Marie-Louise and Gaston
at her feet, as it poured upon them--and the boat, lifted high up, hung
dizzily for an instant, poised as on the edge of an abyss, then the
wave rolled under them, and the boat swept on in its wake, the shipped
water rushing now this way now that in the bottom.

It was an escape! The blessed saints still had them in their keeping!
Jean sucked in his breath. A foot nearer when the wave had broken,
and, instead of the few bucketsful they had taken, the boat would have
filled! And now Marie-Louise, already baling at the water, cried out
to him.

"See! It was a mercy!"--her voice rang with a glad uplift. "It was
sent by the _bon Dieu_, that wave! It has brought life to Uncle
Gaston!"

It was true. The deluge of water had, temporarily at least, restored
the old fisherman to consciousness, for he raised himself up now, and
Jean heard him speak.

After that, time marked no definite passing for Jean. Occasional