By the time that the leisurely old city was sitting down to its breakfast, the fleet had disappeared into the horizon, and the sun had climbed over its obstructions to flood the harbor with reassuring light. The mercurial spirits of the negroes rose with the genial warmth. Forebodings were forgotten. Even Clara sang a lighter air as she rocked the baby upon her lap. But the sun had just lifted over the eastern wall, and the heat of noon was beginning to vibrate in the court, when suddenly the air of security was shattered. From the center of town sounded the deep, ominous clang of a bell. At its first stroke life in Catfish Row was paralyzed. Women stopped their tasks, and, not realizing what they did, clasped each others’ hands tightly, and stood motionless, with strained, listening faces. Twenty times the great hammer fell, sending the deep, full notes out across the city that was holding its breath and counting them as they came. “Twenty!” said Clara, when it had ceased to shake the air. She ran to the entrance and looked to the north. Almost at the end of vision, between two buildings, could be seen the flagstaff that surmounted the custom-house. It was bare when she looked--just a thin, bare line against the intense blue, but even as she stood there, a flicker of color soared up its length; then fixed and flattened, showing a red square with a black center. “My Gawd!” she called over her shoulder. “It’s de trut’. Dat’s de hurricane signal on top de custom-house.” Bess came from her room, and stood close to the terrified woman. “Dat can’t be so,” she said comfortingly. “Ain’t yuh ’member de las’ hurricane, how it tek two day tuh blow up. Now de sun out bright, an’ de cloud all gone.” But Clara gave no sign of having heard her. “Come on in!” urged Bess. “Ef yuh don’t start tuh git yuh dinner, yuh won’t hab nuttin’ ready fuh de mens w’en dey gits in.” After a moment the idea penetrated, and the half-dazed woman turned toward Bess, her eyes pleading. “You come wid me, an’ talk a lot. I ain’t likes tuh be all alone now.” “Sho’ I will,” replied the other comfortingly. “I min’ de baby fuh yuh, an’ yuh kin be gittin’ de dinner.” Clara’s face quivered; but she turned from the sight of the far red flag and opened her door for Bess to pass in. After the two women had remained together for half an hour, Bess left the room for a moment to fetch some sewing. The sun was gone, and the sky presented a smooth, leaden surface. She closed the door quickly so that Clara might not see the abrupt change, and went out of the entrance for a look to sea.