A WOMAN OF SAY.
Father Hacquart became as time went on, quite an expert meteorologist, and only once or twice made a mistake in his predictions about the weather.
The terrible arch of clouds peculiar to a tornado, meanwhile, goes up and up till it nearly reaches the zenith. Behind it in the east is a great glow of light, resembling the reflection of a conflagration in the big plate-glass windows of some shop on the Paris boulevards seen through the rain.
We all disperse now, going to our huts to light our candles, whilst the rain pours down in torrents, and the leaves are torn from the trees and whirled round and round. The branches are creaking, the roofs are bending beneath the fury of the storm, the rain turns to hail, and through the great sabbat of the elements, the voices of the sentries are heard calling out from beneath the deluge pouring down upon them, “Is all well?” and the reply comes soon, “All is well.”
Then when the worst seems to be over, we go to examine how much damage is done, and Father Hacquart comes out to have one more look at the weather. Presently we hear some one growling out that the rain has come through his roof like a thief in the night, or that it is pouring over his threshold. We all laugh together, for we are all in the same boat.
Fortunately the damage done is seldom greater than this, for the huts stand the strain well. We only once had to deplore a real misfortune, and that not a very serious one, only it made us fear that a worse might happen.
A pair of white and black storks had nested in the big tamarind tree which formed the eastern corner of the tata looking down-stream, and we considered this a good omen for us, a talisman ensuring to us the protection of Allah during our stay in the island. Storks, as is well known, are very peculiar birds, and acts of extraordinary intelligence are attributed to them, which would appear to prove that their lives are regulated by certain social laws. It was an amusement to us to watch them of an evening, and to note all the details of their family life; the first finding of a home, for instance, their courtship, their talks in the gloaming; when perched together on one branch they would seem to be looking at us, balancing themselves with their heavy heads on one side, with the air of old men considering some new invention, or savants discussing abstract verities.
Our pair of storks, in spite of their calm and sedate appearance, must really have been only just beginning their joint ménage, and can have had no real experience of life. They evidently knew how to fish by instinct; but a sad catastrophe befell their home, which they had built on a big dead branch, for in a specially violent tornado the bough was torn off, nest and all, and flung upon the quick-firing gun pointing up-stream, knocking over Ibrahim Bubakar, who was on sentry duty, but who fortunately escaped with a fright and a few bruises on the legs. Alas! however, three young storks, the children of the pair, were flung to the ground and killed. We picked them up dead the day after the tornado, and stuffed them.
A NATIVE WOMAN WITH GOITRE.