The waves were furious.
Though it was only four o'clock, it was so dark that I could scarcely see.
On the horizon, the immense undulations of the waves were outlined against a band of gleaming light, the colour of red-hot iron.
Above this strip of blazing sky, the clouds were piled in heavy masses of ochre and black; the vault of the firmament was reflected in the sea, and the waves seemed to have lost their azure or emerald transparency, and looked like solid mountains streaked with foam.
The wind whistled through the ropes loudly and furiously. Though blowing a gale, the wind was hot, and the water that it raised up in solid sheets, and dashed over the deck of the yacht, was warm.
Very soon the doctor came up on deck. "You are very imprudent," said he to me, "to leave your cabin."
"I was stifling down there, doctor, the motion of the ship made me almost crazy. I feel better up here."
"What frightful weather!" said the doctor. "If we can only get to Malta to anchor before night!"
"Are we not some distance off yet from that island?"
"We are very near, but that heavy cloud prevents our seeing land. In about an hour the yacht will put up a signal for a pilot, provided that in such a storm they can hear our cannon and see our signal."