I was quite right, and as we were in the tropics the change was coming rapidly. But just then we reached the watch, and to my surprise Mr Denning said as well as the rushing wind would let him—
“Mr Frewen, Mr Preddle, my sister has hot coffee ready, and will be glad if you can go at once.”
I saw Mr Frewen give quite a start, and Mr Preddle regularly jumped, but they were both so surprised that they could neither of them speak, while Mr Denning turned to Bob Hampton.
“Your turn must be when they come back,” he said.
“Oh, all right, sir, I can wait,” growled Bob—I mean roared—for though there was a momentary cessation in the shrieking of the wind, he spoke as if Mr Denning were by the wheel; and there was no doubt now—we could not see it, nor were we likely to, through the mist and spray, but the sun was rising, and ten minutes after I was gazing at the sea, which was churned up into one chaos of foam.
“It’s all over!” yelled Bob, a minute or two later.
“What’s all over?” I asked.
“The hurry-cane, sir. We’re most through it, and the wind’s beginning to drop.”
“But it’s blowing terribly,” I cried.
“Ay, sir, it is; but ’nour ago it was blowing ten times as terrible. Why, there was a time when it most shaved my head, and another time when I put my hands up to feel if my ears was cut off. Strikes me as they would ha’ gone if they hadn’t been tied down with the flaps of this here sou’-wester.”