Like the sky, the bay had undergone a complete metamorphosis. The water was black, and strangely lifeless. Thin, intensely white crests rode the low, pointed waves; and between the opposing planes of sky and sea a thin westerly wind roamed about like a trapped thing and whined in a complaining treble key. A singularly clear half-light pervaded the world, and in it she could see the harbor mouth distinctly, as it lay ten miles away between the north and south jetties that stretched on the horizon like arms with the finger-tips nearly touching. Her eyes sought the narrow opening. Guiltless of the smallest speck, it let upon utter void. “It’d take ’em t’ree hour tuh mek harbor from de banks wid good win’,” said a woman who was also watching. “But dere ain’t no powuh in dis breeze, an’ it a head one at dat.” “Dey kin row it in dat time,” encouraged Bess. “‘An’ de storm ain’t hyuh yit.” But the woman hugged her forebodings, and stood there shivering in the close, warm air. § Except for the faint moan of the wind, the town and harbor lay in a silence that was like held breath. Many negroes came to the wharf, passed out to the pier-head, and sat quietly watching the entrance to the bay. At one o’clock the tension snapped. As though it had been awaiting St. Christopher’s chimes to announce “Zero Hour,” the wind swung into the east, and its voice dropped an octave, and changed its quality. Instead of the complaining whine, a grave, sustained note came in from the Atlantic, with an undertone of alarming variations, that sounded oddly out of place as it traversed the inert waters of the bay. The tide was at the last of the ebb, and racing out of the many rivers and creeks toward the sea. All morning the west wind had driven it smoothly before it. But now, the stiffening eastern gale threw its weight against the water, and the conflict immediately filled the bay with large waves that leapt up to angry points, then dropped back sullenly upon themselves. “Choppy water,” observed a very old negro who squinted through half-closed eyes. “Dem boat nebbuh mek headway in dat sea.” But he was not encouraged to continue by the silent, anxious group. Slowly the threatening undertone of the wind grew louder. Then, as though a curtain had been lowered across the harbor mouth, everything beyond was blotted by a milky screen. “Oh, my Jedus!” a voice shrilled. “Here he come, now! Le’s we go!” Many of the watchers broke for the cover of buildings across the street. Some of those whose men were in the fleet crowded into the small wharf-house. Several voices started to pray at once, and were immediately drowned in the rising clamor of the wind. With the mathematical precision that it had exhibited in starting, the gale now moved its obliterating curtain through the jetties, and thrust it forward in a straight line across the outer bay.