blasts of wind I was pretty well used to by this time--but wind it was not--growing in half-a-minute to a rumbling clatter, and then to a smothered roar, as if something more than mortal shot from inland down through the valley, and passed out by its mouth into the open sea at once. I scarce felt the ground heave under me, though I thought I saw the black head of the ravine lift against the stars--one terrible plunge of the sea down at the quays and batteries, then everything was still again; but the whole dancing-party came rushing out in confusion at my back, the ladies shrieking, the men looking up into the sky, or at the cliffs on both sides; the British flag, over the fort on Ladder Hill, blowing out steadily to a stiff breeze aloft. It wasn't for some time, in fact, that they picked up courage again to say it had been an earthquake. However, the ball was over, and, as soon as matters could be set to rights, it was nothing but questions whether it had aught to do with _him_ up at Longwood, or hadn't been an attempt to blow up the island--some of the officers being so much taken aback at first, that they fancied the French had come. "At last, however, we, who had nothing else for it, got stowed away on sofas or otherwise about the dancing-room; for my part, I woke up just early enough to see the high head of the valley coming out as clearly as before against the morning light, and the water glancing blue out miles away beyond the knot of ships in the opening. The news was only that Napoleon was safe, having been in his bed at the time, where he lay thinking one of the frigates had blown up, they said. Not a word of his that got wind but the people in Jamestown made it their day's text--in the want of which they'd even gossip about the coat he wore that morning; till you'd have said the whole nest of them, soldiers and all, lay under his shadow as the town did at the foot of the cliffs, just ready to vanish as soon as he went down. The Longwood doctor had told someone in the Jew Solomon's toy-shop, by the forenoon, that Bonaparte couldn't sleep that night for making some calculations about a great battle he had fought, when he counted three separate shocks of the thing, and noticed it was luckily right up and down, or else Jamestown would have been buried under tons of rock. The doctor had mentioned besides that there was twice an earthquake before in the island, in former times; but it didn't need some of the townspeople's looks to tell you they'd be afraid many a night after, lest the French Emperor should wake up thinking of his battles; while, as for myself, I must say the notion stuck to me some time, along with my own ideas at that exact moment; at any rate, not for worlds would I have lived long ashore in St Helena. CHAPTER XXII