CHAPTER XXXV
A TRICK OF FATE
All on the island felt those tremors,—the frightened thieves on guard in the camp and those who had departed northward on their mysterious mission, Larone on his solitary search in the heart of the island, and the three women and the sailors on the North Star and the Alice.
Like the swell of the flood-tide in the full o' the moon, only with far greater violence and swiftness, the waters of Rainbow Bay were sucked from the coral lips of the strand full forty feet, racing back again to forty more above high water mark, until they laved the trees of the grove around the hut. Three times they rose and ebbed, reaching their climax at the second rumble, while the yards of the ship danced merrily, and the helmsman worked frantically at the wheel.
"It's a young tidal wave, sir," cried Benson, for they had returned to the ship, for reinforcements.
"Yes, and worse to follow, I'm afraid," replied the Captain. He scanned the rising terraces with his glass—no sight of Ben and the searching party. "Rayer," he hailed the mate, "arm Crow, Slathers, and Yorke. I'll head the second party myself. We've no time to lose."
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