"I like the look of it less and less. The glass has dropped suddenly: such a drop as I've never seen out of the tropics. Is there anything against our putting to sea this afternoon?"
It so happened that General Wilders was not quite so well.
"I'd rather you waited a day or two," replied the surgeon. "It might make all the difference to the patient."
"Well, if it must be," replied the captain, very discontentedly.
"It's his life that's in question."
"Against all of ours. But let it be so. We'll try and weather the storm."
Next morning, about dawn, it burst upon them—the memorable hurricane of the 14th November, which did such appalling damage on shore and at sea. Not a tent remained standing on the plateau. The tornado swept the whole surface clean.
At sea the sight as daylight grew stronger was enough to make the stoutest heart, ignorant landsman's or practised seaman's, quail. A whole fleet—great line-of-battle ships, a crowd of transports under sail and steam—lay at the mercy of the gale, which increased every moment in force and fury. The waves rose with the wind, and the white foam of "stupendous" breakers angrily lashed the rock-bound shore.
"Will you ride it out?" asked McKay of the captain, as the two stood with the doctor crouched under the gunwale of the yacht and holding on to the shrouds.
"Why shouldn't we?" replied Trejago, shortly, as though the question was an insult to himself and his ship.