Soon it was raining so hard that but little could be seen beyond the entrance to the cave. The wind moaned and shrieked throughout the cavern, which happened to have several entrances. Once it became so strong that it almost lifted the boys from their feet. The rain drove in at times, and they had to get into a split in the rocks to keep dry.
“Hark! what was that?” cried Roger, during a lull in the wind.
“I heard thunder; that’s all,” answered Phil.
“I think a tree must have been struck by lightning,” answered Captain Sanders. “The lightning is getting pretty fierce,” he added, as a brilliant illumination filled the cavern.
“Wonder where Jasniff and Merwell are?” whispered Phil, to his chums, “I’ll wager this storm scares ’em half to death.”
“Yes, and those four Englishmen,” added Dave. “Don’t forget that they were coming to this island.”
Slowly the hours of the morning dragged by. There was no let-up in the hurricane, for such it really proved to be. The wind blew strongly all the time, but occasionally would come a heavy blast that fairly made the island tremble. The lightning had died away somewhat, but now and then would come a great flash, followed by a crash and rumble that would echo and reëcho among the rocks.
“Just look at the ocean!” cried Dave, as he and his chums walked to one corner of the entrance to gaze out.
“The waves seem to be mountain-high,” returned Phil. “You wouldn’t think it possible a ship could live on such a sea.”
“Well, it is mighty dangerous, Phil; you know that as well as I do.”