Mexico -- Description and travel; Natural history -- Mexico
The sun set, pale and rayless, as if drowned in the ill-omened yellow
clouds. The wind kept puffing and blowing at intervals. A few minutes'
lull enabled us to collect a little grass, and then, seated side by
side, we watched the approach of night, dark, desolate, and starless;
but the comparative coolness of the atmosphere gave some little relief
to our exhausted lungs. Lucien went off to sleep; Sumichrast and
l'Encuerado tried to follow his example; Gringalet seemed afraid to go
far away, and crouched down at our feet. Ere long, I was the only one of
the party who was awake.
What an awful night! About nine o'clock the squalls ran riot with
unexampled violence; if it had not been for our shelter behind the rock,
we should surely have been swept away. From the forest beneath came a
roar like that of waves beating against a cliff; branches broke off
with an uproar sounding like a series of gun-shots, and the leaves,
driven by the wind, covered us with their _debris_. Every now and then
an inexplicable and increasing hoarse rumbling filled my mind with
anxiety. I listened, holding my breath with fear; the rumbling seemed to
approach, as if bringing with it new and unknown perils. Then suddenly,
prevailing over the tumult, a formidable crash made itself heard,
followed by a shock prolonged by the echoes; it was the fall of some
forest giant, vanquished by the hurricane. Sometimes one might have
fancied that a multitude of men were fighting together in the darkness
that no eye could pierce; there were plainly to be recognized the wild
cries of the conflict and the plaintive moans of the wounded; and then,
again, a fresh shock shook the earth, and deadened the outburst of the
mighty lament.
I must confess that at this moment I bitterly regretted having brought
Lucien; I remembered that my friends had predicted to me all the perils
which now threatened us. While listening to the uproar of the tempest, I
felt my resolution give way, and I had serious thoughts of returning to
Orizava the next day.
Towards midnight the storm abated a little, and, giving way to fatigue,
I fell asleep.
I had only just closed my eyes when I suddenly jumped up again, deafened
as if by a hundred claps of thunder joined in one. The darkness was as
thick as ever, and the wind was still more boisterous; the echo of the
fallen tree had scarcely died away before another colossus groaned and
fell. My companions were now all awake.
"What's the matter, M. Sumichrast?" asked Lucien, in a low tone.
"It is a hurricane, my boy."
"One might fancy that a giant was passing through the wood, shouting
and whistling, and breaking down all the trees as he went along."
"I wish that was all," replied Sumichrast; "but it's something much
worse; it is the south wind, the sirocco of the Mexican coast."
"Will it sweep us away, M. Sumichrast?"
"I hope not; thanks to the rock which shields us."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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