Rain now frequently fell, and the heat became even greater, at times, than during the bright weather. At length the rain ceased, and the water which had been collected began once more to diminish with fearful rapidity. A long, dry season was before them, and by what means the casks were to be replenished no one could tell.
Chapter Twelve.
One night they were all asleep in their hut—for, as there were neither natives nor animals to be feared, no watch was kept—when suddenly Bill was awoke by a loud roaring sound. He could hear the trees above the hut shaking and rustling as if their heads were knocking together, the wind whistling among their boughs. All hands were quickly awake. A hurricane had just broken, and appeared to be far more furious than that when the schooner was wrecked.
“I am afraid the trees will be coming down and crushing us,” cried old Grim, starting up.
“It won’t do to take Mr Collinson out now,” said Bill; “so, if you are afraid of their coming down, I’ll stay by him.”
Grim went to the door, followed by Jack and Tommy. As they looked out they could see the whole sea, which had been calm as a mirror when they went to sleep, now tossed into high waves topped by foam, which came roaring against the island. Sometimes, indeed, it seemed as if they would roll over it, and sweep them and the hut and everything away, for the reef at the side from which the wind was blowing at that time afforded but slight shelter.
“Look out, lads; we had better say our prayers, for to my mind our last days have come,” said old Grim, coming back into the hut.
“I’ll say my prayers,” said Bill, “whether or not the last day is likely to have come.”