"The Calypso," thinks Ned; "where is she?" Crawling to the edge of the parapet, he strains his eyes downward through the darkness. A momentary flash illumines the gloom, and shows a phantom sail, which he hopes may be the Calypso's, scudding out of the harbor mouth.
And now the hurricane breaks forth from an almost opposite quarter, bringing with it torrent upon torrent of driving rain, drenching Ned to the skin, and fairly blinding him with its force. He is about to fly, he knows not whither, when some one, dimly seen through the darkness, clasps his hand.
"This way—quick!" exclaims the voice of Joe; and feeling himself urged rapidly forward, Ned in a moment or two finds that at last he has reached a place of shelter.
"I stop here nights," laconically observes Joe, as the two boys drop, dripping and out of breath, on a pile of dry leaves and grasses in one corner of what Ned sees by the continuous play of lightning is a low circular stone cell, and which Joe explains was probably used as a sort of powder-house before the fort was demolished.
For three long hours the hurricane swept above them, and the sea roared beneath, while the crash of thunder, almost without cessation, seemed to jar the stones about them. At last its violence subsided by degrees, and as Ned and Joe finally emerged from their refuge, it was to see the clouds rolling away in great rifted masses, through which shone the beams of sunset.
"And now, if the Calypso is only safe," said Ned, as they made their way with difficulty down the mountain road, which had become the bed of a small stream, "you shall have your passage back to the States, Joe, and not work it either."
"Ah! if," returned Joe, soberly. He was wondering how they should live until the brig arrived, even if she was safe; and what on earth would become of them if she was lost! For the Queenston people do not take kindly to penniless wanderers, as poor Ned found to his cost before another twenty-four hours had passed over his head.
Fortunately for the companions in misfortune, fruit had been dislodged by the hurricane in such quantities that it was to be had for the taking. The boys supported life for a fortnight on oranges, ripe bread-fruit, bananas, guavas, mami apples, and soursops, which are "all very well for dessert," as Ned afterward remarked, "but for a steady diet I prefer roast beef; fruit gets monotonous after the forty-fifth or forty-sixth meal."
Thus for three weary weeks the boys wandered listlessly by day through the streets of Queenston, and by night suffered innumerable tortures from mosquitoes.