It seemed a little odd to go to washing dishes again after being a clerk all day; but they were soon done, and next morning he was out bright and early to clean the cabin and set the table. After breakfast he was rowed ashore as before, but dressed this time in his thinnest clothes. Even at eight o’clock the sun was burning hot, and the cloudless sky seemed to indicate an intensely hot day. He was soon to learn, however, that tropical skies change very rapidly. Five or six of the lighters had come in with loads and returned to the ship, when there came a single puff of wind from off the water that reminded Kit of home. It was the first really cool thing he had felt since his arrival in Yucatan; and this little puff, lasting only a few seconds, was more than cool—it was actually chilly.
“Ah, that’s good!” he said to the clerk; “I wish they’d give us more of that.”
The clerk shivered in his linen clothes, and pointed with one hand toward the sky. There far in the north was a big dark-gray cloud, that seemed to grow larger and darker as they looked at it.
“El Norte!” Michel exclaimed; and shivered again.
“What’s that?” Kit asked.
“A norther, you call it in English,” the clerk replied; “a great cold storm from the north. That puts an end to our work for some days. There’ll be a heavy sea on in a few minutes.”
“Then I ought to get back to the ship,” Kit said half to himself.
“You couldn’t do it,” said the clerk. “Look.”
He pointed seaward, and Kit saw all the lighters scudding toward shore before a wind that they hardly felt yet on the mole. Thick black smoke was pouring from the North Cape’s funnel, and across the water he heard the “click, click, click,” of the steam windlass.
“Why, she’s going off!” Kit cried; “she’s hoisting anchor!”