CHAPTER XVIII
AT THE MERCY OF THE TEMPEST
The wind was so violent that Ned dared not stand erect. He crossed on hands and knees the brief stretch that separated the tent from the lower end of the island.
The buttonwood was still standing—much to his relief—and the canoes were so far uninjured, though the gale was knocking them together pretty forcibly.
Bracing himself against the buttonwood, Ned turned the lantern in all directions, and soon discovered the tree which had caused such alarm by its fall. It lay prostrate on the other island, but as a channel barely half a dozen yards wide separated the two, it was not surprising that the crash should have sounded very near.
The storm still raged with unabated fury. The lightning played incessantly over the heavens, and the thunder was continuous.
Ned took advantage of a lull in the wind to start on his return, but he had scarcely left the tree when the lantern slipped from his hand, and was extinguished by the fall. He found it after a short search, and as he could see plainly enough without a light, he pushed on toward the tent, bending his body forward to escape the cutting rain.
A sudden fierce blast of wind compelled him to crouch close to the ground, and just as he rose a jagged flash of lightning turned the blackness into a purple glare. Ned's eyes happened to be resting on the channel between the two islands, and in that brief instant of light he saw a boat gliding swiftly down the current, cutting gracefully through the great waves that rose to meet it.