"Twenty-eight point four five--a drop of one point five, two inches
in fifteen hours," observed Dr. Conolly. "It certainly looks as if
something is in the air, though everything appears favourable at
present."
"We'll be on the safe side and take every possible precaution,"
rejoined my father. "We are protected by the reef, so it will be as
well to remain here, rather than get to sea and meet a cyclone in the
open."
This conversation occurred about a fortnight after the arrival of the
figurehead of the "San Philipo." The figurehead, or idol, we found
too large conveniently to stow away on board, so it was cut through
just below the shoulders, and, relieved of its accumulated coats of
paint, the art of the Spanish wood-carver stood revealed once more to
the light of day.
The actual head and bust of the great figurehead we took on board,
lashing it securely in the main saloon, although even its present
bulk, being four feet in height and three feet across the widest
part, seriously interfered with the space we had at our disposal. As
for the natives, they were now quiet enough. The heavy losses they
had sustained had for the time being, at least, crushed their
spirits, and we were able, with due precautions, to land whenever we
wished.
Although on this particular morning everything seemed peaceful and
quiet, the erratic behaviour of the mercury gave us ample warning
that some great atmospheric disturbance was about to take place. Work
on the wreck was in consequence suspended, the boats were hoisted in
and secured all deck fittings lashed down, and an additional anchor
with the longest possible scope was laid out.
About eight bells (4 p.m.) a heavy swell set in from seaward,
although there was no wind to cause it, and all along the reef the
dull round waves broke into great masses of foam with a noise like
thunder, while the "Fortuna" rolled sluggishly in the undulations
within the lagoon.
The sun, surrounded by a misty halo, sank behind a cluster of
high-banked clouds, giving out strange copper-coloured rays, while
from seaward came a constant string of birds, intent upon gaining the
shelter of the land; and all the while a strange brooding silence
appeared to have taken possession of the air, save for the roar of
the breakers on the reef and the lesser noise of the water tumbling
on the beach.
Hardly had the sun set than a heavy rain beat straight down, rattling
on the decks (for we had taken in the awnings) and making a strange
phosphorescent light on the water; but still there was no sign of
wind.
"When the rain's before the wind,
Halliards, sheets, and braces bind."
"I wonder if that rhyme applies to this part of the globe?" remarked
my uncle, as, clad in oilskins and sou'-westers, we stood' on deck,
glad of the opportunity of being cooled by the downpour after weeks
of tropic heat.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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