CHAPTER XIX.
NEW ORLEANS.
Amid the exciting scenes which followed in such rapid succession, no one had noticed that the weather had undergone a wonderful change. By the time the prisoners were comfortably quartered the sun had set, and the sky was obscured with dark clouds from which constant flashes of lightning were emitted. The distant roll of thunder and the sighing of the wind gave warning of the approach of a storm.
"The Xenophon is in a poor condition to weather a storm to-night," said Lieutenant Willard. "With her hull raked fore and aft a dozen times, her mizzen gone, her foremast shot through, and her rigging so cut to pieces, she can hardly be managed in good weather. A storm would surely drive her on the rocks."
The vessel could be seen by the flashes of lightning, struggling to get to sea. At last she disappeared. The storm rose and the wind blew a perfect hurricane. Fernando had gone to see Captain Lane to make a full report. It was midnight, and he was still with the captain, when the boom of a gun at sea was heard. That was no gun of battle but a signal of distress.
"What is it?" cried Captain Lane.
"It's the Xenophon. I fear she cannot weather the storm."
Then they listened for an hour or more to the occasional boom of a cannon.
"She's comin' right in on the stony point sou'east o' the bay," cried Captain Lane.