The Sun of Quebec: A Story of a Great Crisis

by Joseph A. Altsheler

The weather remained beautiful. He had been a month on the island, and the sea had not been vexed by another storm since his arrival. The schooner was still wedged in the sand and on the rocks, and he made several more trips to her, taking off many more articles, which, however, he left in a heap well back of the beach covered with a tarpaulin and the remains of sails. He felt that they could lie there awaiting his need. Perhaps he would never need them at all.

His later visits to the schooner were more from curiosity than from any other motive. He had a strong desire to learn more about the captain and his ship. There was no name anywhere upon the vessel, nor could he find any ship's log or manifest or any kind of writing to indicate it. Neither was the name of the slaver known to him, nor was there any letter nor any kind of paper to disclose it. It was likely that it would always remain hidden from him unless some day he should wrench it from Adrian Van Zoon.

Robert went into the sea nearly every morning. As he was a powerful swimmer and the weather remained calm, he was in the habit of going out beyond the reefs, but one day he noticed a fin cutting the water and coming toward him. Instantly he swam with all his might toward the reefs, shivering as he went. When he drew himself up on the slippery rocks he did not see the formidable fin. He was quite willing to utter devout thanks aloud. It might not have been a shark, but it made him remember they were to be expected in those waters. After that he took no chances, bathing inside the reefs and going outside in the dinghy only.

A few days later he was upon his highest hill watching the horizon when he saw a dark spot appear in the southwest. At first he was hopeful that it was a sail, but as he saw it grow he knew it to be a cloud. Then he hurried toward the house, quite sure a storm was coming. Knowing how the southern seas were swept by hurricanes, it was surprising that none had come sooner, and he ran as fast as he could for the shelter of the house.

Robert made the door just in time. Then the day had turned almost as dark as night and, with a rush and a roar, wind and rain were upon him. Evidently the slaver had known those regions, and so he had built a house of great strength, which, though it quivered and rattled under the sweep of the hurricane, nevertheless stood up against it.

The building had several small windows, closed with strong shutters, but as wind and rain were driving from the west he was able to open one on the eastern side and watch the storm. It was just such a hurricane as that which had wrecked the shattered schooner. It became very dark, there were tremendous displays of thunder and lightning, which ceased, after a while, as the wind grew stronger, and then through the dark he saw trees and bushes go down. Fragments struck against the house, but the stout walls held.

The wind kept up a continuous screaming, as full of menace as the crash of a battle. Part of the time it swept straight ahead, cutting wide swathes, and then, turning into balls of compressed air, it whirled with frightful velocity, smashing everything level with the ground as if it had been cut down by a giant sword.

Robert had seen more than one hurricane in the great northern woods and he watched it without alarm. Although the house continued to rattle and shake, and now and then a bough, wrenched from its trunk, struck it a heavy blow, he knew that it would hold. There was a certain comfort in sitting there, dry and secure, while the storm raged without in all its violence. There was pleasure too in the knowledge that he was on the land and not the sea. He remembered the frightful passage that he and the slaver had made through the breakers, and he knew that his escape then had depended upon the slimmest of chances. He shuddered as he recalled the rocks thrusting out their savage teeth.

The storm, after a while, sank into a steady rain, and the wind blew but little. The air was now quite cold for that region, and Robert, lying down on the couch, covered himself with a blanket. He soon fell asleep and slept so long, lulled by the beat of the rain, that he did not awaken until the next day.

Then he took the dinghy and rowed around to the other side of the island. As he had expected, the schooner was gone. The storm had broken her up, and he found many of her timbers scattered along the beach, where they had been brought in by the waves. He felt genuine sadness at the ship's destruction and disappearance. It was like losing a living friend.