s under the lash of the
wind.

Fortunately the house was so placed that it was protected by the whole
depth of the grove between it and the lagoon; and fortunately, too, it
was sheltered by the dense foliage of the breadfruit, for suddenly,
with a crash of thunder as if the hammer of Thor had been flung from
sky to earth, the clouds split and the rain came down in a great
slanting wave. It roared on the foliage above, which, bending leaf on
leaf, made a slanting roof from which it rushed in a steady sheet-like
cascade.

Dick had darted into the house, and was now sitting beside Emmeline,
who was shivering and holding the child, which had awakened at the
sound of the thunder.

For an hour they sat, the rain ceasing and coming again, the thunder
shaking earth and sea, and the wind passing overhead with a piercing,
monotonous cry.

Then all at once the wind dropped, the rain ceased, and a pale spectral
light, like the light of dawn, fell before the doorway.

"It's over!" cried Dick, making to get up.

"Oh, listen!" said Emmeline, clinging to him, and holding the baby to
his breast as if the touch of him would give it protection. She had
divined that there was something approaching worse than a storm.

Then, listening in the silence, away from the other side of the island,
they heard a sound like the droning of a great top.

It was the centre of the cyclone approaching.

A cyclone is a circular storm: a storm in the form of a ring. This ring
of hurricane travels across the ocean with inconceivable speed and
fury, yet its centre is a haven of peace.

As they listened the sound increased, sharpened, and became a tang that
pierced the ear-drums: a sound that shook with hurry and speed,
increasing, bringing with it the bursting and crashing of trees, and
breaking at last overhead in a yell that stunned the brain like the
blow of a bludgeon. In a second the house was torn away, and they were
clinging to the roots of the breadfruit, deaf, blinded, half-lifeless.

The terror and the prolonged shock of it reduced them from thinking
beings to the level of frightened animals whose one instinct is
preservation.

How long the horror lasted they could not tell, when, like a madman who
pauses for a moment in the midst of his struggles and stands
stock-still, the wind ceased blowing, and there was peace. The centre
of the cyclone was passing over the island.

Looking up, one saw a marvellous sight. The air was full of bir