Whereat I was flattered beyond measure and showed it, but she was kind enough not to rebuke me for my foolish vanity. And indeed there were not many—perhaps even none at all—among her acquaintance who could have done for her what I had; they were men of spirit, in truth, but they lacked my experience and my strength.
That night the sun set amid lowering clouds. With a sailor’s weather sense, I was sure that we should have a storm. Pimball and Glibby sensed it too. We could see them making things snug alow and aloft on The Rose of Devon. They were good enough seamen, as far as that goes. The wind, if it came, would be offshore, and there would be no danger of the ship being driven upon our reef, but there were islands to leeward which they seemed to have forgot but which I remembered. If it came to blow hard I would not want to be in the position of The Rose of Devon, even if I do prefer a ship to the shore in a storm, but I want plenty of sea room and that the poor little Rose of Devon had not. I surmised that the attention of the crew had been so persistently fixed upon us that they had scarcely ever glanced to leeward even.
I explained all this to Mistress Wilberforce as I made things snug for the night. She would be perfectly protected by the overhang of the cliff and the overturned boat, and I showed her, before I left her alone beneath the boat, that the same overhang of the cliff would protect me from the wind and the rain if the storm broke. And so after prayers again and a long look seaward we went to sleep.
About midnight, so far as I could judge, I was awakened. The storm broke with all the suddenness and intensity of the tropics. Such peals of thunder and such flashes of lightning I have never witnessed although I had been in many storms throughout the world. To sleep further was impossible. Mistress Lucy came out from her boat and stood beside me as we leaned against the cliff while the storm drove harmlessly over our heads.
We could see the ship at intervals by the vivid flashes of lightning. She was making fearful weather of it. She was always a wet ship and the huge waves fairly rolled over her. Once she went over nearly on her beam ends and I thought she was gone. I did not view her position with a great deal of regret, either. Although she could not come at us, she was a terrible menace. But the next flash of lightning showed that her main topmast had gone by the board, or had been cut away, so she righted. Presently she drove off before the wind with a rag of her foretops’l still showing, and that was the last we were to see of her, we thought.
Praise God, that was not true after all!
CHAPTER XIII
IN WHICH WE ENTER THE PLACE OF HORROR
STORM bound under the lee of the cliffs, we passed long and anxious hours the next day, although our only misfortune was in the inclemency of the weather which kept us close and prevented our further exploration of the island and a search for the treasure. We were completely sheltered and we had plenty of the refreshing milk of the cocoanut to vary our other food. Nor did we neglect to improve the rainy hours by much pleasant converse and by further work upon my lady’s tunic and shoes. Also I made her a sort of hat out of palm leaves which she could tie upon her head by further strips from that invaluable and seemingly inexhaustible skirt of hers. And I made myself a head covering of some of the cloth, letting it fall low over my neck, as I had observed the Arabs at Aden do, it being there that the fierce heat of the tropic sun centers its attack—at least I have heard so.
The second day after it began the tempest finally blew itself out, although the great surging seas still broke tremendously over the barrier reef and the spray shot a score of feet or more above the crests of the highest waves. It was only the reflex of the storm, however, for during the night the wind had subsided into a gentle breeze. All was calm and peaceful; nature never looked so bright and smiling, it seemed to me, as at the dawn of that eventful day.
When we scanned the sea early in the morning there was of course no sign of the ship. I imagined that the hazy islands dimly seen in the bright sunlight on the far-off horizon could tell a tale of sea disaster if they would. Any way, I did not believe that we should ever see The Rose of Devon or her crew again. In both those beliefs I was mistaken, as you shall find out, if having read thus far, you have patience to continue until the end.