But the resident paid the penalty for his disobedience. The little party retired that night with the stars shining brilliantly overhead from a cloudless sky, and with the sea like a mirror. In the middle of the night one and all were roused suddenly from their slumbers. The wind was roaring, and the breakers were hammering upon the rock, while the foam and surf rushed violently between the legs of the barracks. When the men looked out they were confronted with a terrifying spectacle. The night was black as pitch, but the sea white as a snow-covered plain, from the crests of the rollers and the surf playing on and around the rocks. A furious gale had sprung up with the characteristic suddenness of the Atlantic, and was already raging. The next morning no one dared to venture outside the iron home, while the gale, instead of abating, appeared to be increasing in fury. For five days the men were held fast, and at times their fears got the better of them. This was particularly the case when, now and again, a more than ugly wave got up, rolled over the rock, and crashed with full force against the barrack. The building shook and trembled fearfully, but its legs were driven too deeply into the rock for it to be overturned, while the cross-bracing was too intricate for the legs to be snapped off. Again and again the men were plunged into darkness, as a wall of water rushed right over the drum, notwithstanding that the roof was 77 feet above high-water. Their fears rose almost to frenzy when a breaker, leaping the rock, drove full tilt against the floor of the barrack. In this upward rush of 55 feet the building suffered. The men’s entrance to the home was by means of a heavy hatch, or trapdoor, which was bolted securely upon the inside. This particular comber burst in the hatch as if it were no thicker than the wood of a matchbox, flooding the whole compartment.