We waited for we knew not what, and the unseen but recognized danger filled us with awe.
CHAPTER XVII
THE CONSEQUENCES
Suddenly the deck slid from beneath my feet and I fell flat upon my face. The ship heaved and rolled as if it were tossing upon the waves of the ocean, and her timbers creaked and groaned mournfully. At the same time crash after crash echoed around us, accompanied by a strange rending sound, as if all creation was being torn asunder.
Then the ship stood firm, as it had been before, trembling slightly at times but no longer tossing at its rock anchorage. The blackness continued, however, and our men lighted the lanterns, disclosing our white, pallid faces as we peered at one another questioningly.
Black Nux had raised me to my feet and was even yet partially supporting me.
“What is it?” I whispered.
“Eart’quake, Mars Sam,” he replied in a calm voice. “Guess it all over now.”
There were a few more trembles, and then came the rain—in a deluge, as it had rained before. We were all driven to seek shelter below, and there we waited anxiously for the sky to clear, that we might discover what cataclysms the quake had wrought.
It rained for two solid hours. The darkness continued for an hour or so longer. It lightened gradually, so that the first intimation I had of it was the clearing away of the shadows that had lurked in the corners of the cabin, where the lamplight did not penetrate. I went on deck, where I found Ned, with Nux and Bryonia and most of the crew, all peering anxiously through the dim light in the direction of the sea.
“What is it, Ned?” I asked, joining them.