Meantime the rain descended in torrents, not, however, falling vertically, but flying whistling before the hurricane. The uproar of the elements now became terrific. The thunder rattled incessantly—the wind shrieked through the hamper—every timber and spar groaned in the strife, and the deep boom of the angry surges, pursuing in our wake, sounded like the howlings of beasts of prey. The darkness was intense, only relieved by the glare of the lightning which streamed incessantly over the scene. Whither we were going it was impossible to tell, for all control of the schooner had been given up, and we were scudding before the tempest with breathless velocity. A quarter of an hour had thus passed, when I found myself standing by the skipper, who was watching the course of the ship. “East, by east-sou’-east,” he said, “and driving like death. God of heaven, what a storm!” The words had scarcely left his mouth before another peal of thunder, even more awful than the preceding one I have described, burst overhead, and, stunning us for an instant with its terrific explosion, rattled down the sky, crackling and re-crackling in its retreat, as if the firmament were crashing to its centre: it was accompanied rather than preceded by a flash, such as I had never seen before, blinding me instantaneously with its glare, and making every object swim dizzily before the brain. On the moment I felt a stunning shock, and was prostrated on the deck, while a strong smell of sulphur pervaded the atmosphere. The deluge of rain revived me, and I looked up in alarm. Good God! the foremast was in flames. _We had been struck with lightning!_