Oh, surely that child had a Friend somewhere whom she trusted.  How beautiful!

They say that fishes and some other creatures are cold of blood and have but little feeling.  But I have gone far enough to think out one thing, and it all comes of that child on her knees:  if a dear mite of a woman like that had a great, powerful Friend she could talk to in the dark, and feel safe with in such a tempest, just as true as I am a living Dolphin, I believe it must be some One strong enough and good enough to care for all kinds of creatures.  I do, indeed!  Do you wonder it comforts me?

It was strange that after awhile the moon came struggling through the black and angry sky.  She rode high, did Luna,—­that is the moon’s name,—­and was at the full, and wherever the clouds parted for a moment, a broad streak of luminous light shone down on great mountains of water, leaping up and up, as if eager to crush everything before them.

The wind did not soon go down, it could not; neither could I with my utmost strength dive downwards through the piled-up, violent waves that still rushed and roared, bounded and snapped with wild force.

Luna had sailed toward the west, and a gleam of daylight was streaking the sky at the east, before the churning, choppy waters began leaping less high, and once again I was tossed crest-high, where I was glad to catch sight of a sailing-vessel that was steadying herself in the distance, and a white yacht was skipping like a frightened but rescued bird afar off.

I do not know whether I had been terribly afraid or not.  I was not afraid of the sea itself, it was what Folks call my “native element,” the place in which I was born, was natural to me, and I was native to it.

But yes, I think I was afraid that the coming together of those fierce waves might crush me as they met in their terrible strength.  The noise of such a meeting could be heard miles away.  Ships have been in great peril from them, and fish have often had the life beaten out of them in such a sea.

Yet, naughty fellow that I was, no great harm came to me.  As soon as I saw my chance, head down I plunged, out of the harsh circle of the storm.

Oh, the peacefulness and the restfulness of those quiet lower regions!  For far below, all strife of angry billow and raging storm was unknown, and glad enough was I to reach my mother’s side.

It may have been that my own plump sides were puffed out with the effort I had made, and the storm’s rough tossing, and my absence and the direction I had taken all told my mother that something had gone hard with me, and that I was glad to again be near her in the silent depths of home.  She floated with me close alongside, guided me to a restful grove midst shimmering weeds that made a soft and silken couch, where in the sweet stillness, lulled by the lap of gentle ripples against weed, or shell, or bending sea-flowers, I glided off to dreamless slumber.