“Yes, that is what it looks like, but at this time of year we don’t often have mists. I am afraid we are going to have a hurricane; it is overdue now by nearly a month. October, November, and the first half of December are the hurricane months, and I fear that, as it is late, we shall have a heavy one.”
“I have seen one since I came out, and then we were at sea and were nearly wrecked. I saw its effects on land, however, for we spent some weeks ashore in consequence of it. The forest was almost levelled. I certainly should not care to see another one.”
“No, it is not a thing that anyone would wish to see a second time. Words cannot describe how terrible they are. I hope, however, if we have one, that it will be a light one, but I am rather afraid of it.”
Nothing more was said on the matter till they retired to bed, when Mr. Palethorpe said, half in fun and half in earnest: “I should advise you to have your clothes handy by your bedside, Mr. Gilmore, for you may want them quickly and badly if a hurricane comes.”
Will laughed to himself at the warning, but nevertheless took the advice. He had been asleep for an hour when he felt the whole house rock. A moment later the roof blew bodily from over his head, and at the same time there was a roar so terrible that he did not even hear the crash of the falling timber. He leapt out of bed, seized his clothes, and [pg 186]hurried down. He met Mr. Palethorpe coming from his daughter’s room, carrying her wrapped up in her bed-clothes. They went down together to the front door. Will turned the handle, and the door was blown in with a force that knocked him to the floor. He struggled to his feet again and tried to get out, but the force of the wind was so tremendous that for some time he could not stem it. When he did manage to get through the doorway he saw Mr. Palethorpe standing some distance from the house. He fought his way towards him against the wind.
“Are you not going to get into shelter?” he shouted in the planter’s ear.
“It is safer here in the open,” the planter said; “I dare not get below a tree, but I will put my daughter in a place where she will be safe.”
Struggling along against the gale he led the way to a small shed where the gardener’s tools were kept. It was about six feet long and three broad, and was built of bricks. The floor was some feet below the surface of the ground, so in entering one had to descend a short flight of steps.
“Just hold my daughter on her feet,” the planter said, “while I clear this place out.”
Much as he tried, Will was unable to keep the girl upright, and after a vain effort he allowed her to sink down on her knees and then knelt by her side. As soon as he had cleared away the tools Mr. Palethorpe came up and carried her down into the shed.