By this time the storm had increased most fearfully, and as Don Ricardo, Aaron, and myself, sat in the dark damp corner of the large gloomy hall, we could scarcely see each other, for the lightning had now ceased, and the darkness was so thick, that had it not been for the light from the large funeral wax tapers, which had been instantly lit upon poor Maria’s death, in the room where she lay, that streamed through the open door, we should have been unable to see our very fingers before us. “What is that?” said Campana; “heard you nothing, gentlemen?” “By this the storm grew loud apace, The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each face, Grew dark as they were speaking.” In the lulls of the rain and the blast, the same long low cry was heard which had startled me by Maria’s bedside, and occasioned the sudden and fatal exertion which had been the cause of the bursting out afresh of the blood vessel. “Why,” said I, “it is little more than three o’clock in the afternoon yet, dark as it is; let us sally out, Mr Bang, for I verify believe that the hollo we have heard is my Captain’s voice, and, if I conjecture rightly, he must have arrived at the other side of the river, probably with the Doctor.” “Why, Tom,” quoth Aaron, “it is only three in the afternoon, as you say, although by the sky I could almost vouch for its being midnight,--but I don’t like that shouting--Did you ever read of a water-kelpie, Don Richy?” “Poo, poo, nonsense,” said the Don; “Mr Cringle is, I fear, right enough.” At this moment the wind thundered at the door and window shutters, and howled amongst the neighbouring trees and round the roof, as if it would have blown the house down upon our devoted heads. The cry was again heard, during a momentary pause. “Zounds!” said Bang, “it is the skipper’s voice, as sure as fate--he must be in danger--let us go and see, Tom.” “Take me with you,” said Campana,--the foremost always when any good deed was to be done----and, in place of clapping on his great-coat to meet the storm, to our unutterable surprise, he began to disrobe himself, all to his trowsers and large straw hat. He then called one of the servants, “Trae me un lasso.” The lasso, a long thong of plaited hide, was forthwith brought; he coiled it up in his left hand. “Now, Pedro,” said he to the negro servant who had fetched it, (a tall strapping fellow,) “you and Caspar follow me. Gentlemen, are you ready?” Caspar appeared, properly accoutred, with a long pole in one hand and a thong similar to Don Ricardo’s in the other, he as well as his comrade being stark naked all to their waistcloths. “Ah, well done, my sons,” said Don Ricardo, as both the negroes prepared to follow him. So off we started to the door, although we heard the tormenta raging without with appalling fury. Bang undid the latch, and the next moment he was flat on his back, the large leaf having flown open with tremendous violence, capsizing him like an infant.