"We're in for a storm," Keith declared, watching the cloud banks on the horizon, "and I shouldn't be surprised if it were a regular rip-snorter."
"The last bad one was two years ago," said Trent, "and it came horribly near blowing the island away altogether. We never really got over the damage done to the trees. I hope we don't have the same performance this year, or the plantation will suffer a whole lot more than I care to think about."
As he spoke a vivid streak of silvery flame slashed the darkening sky and a distant rumbling was borne across the water. Ten minutes later the wind had risen to a scream and rain was splashing down in sheets. The lightning was followed instantly by a crash like that of countless heavy artillery, under which the very island shook.
"Yes, we're in for it," observed Trent, "but there's one thing sure. If Moniz had intended to try any of his funny business to-night he'll have to change his plans. His little schooner would have every stick blown clean out of her if he tried to ride a gale like this out."
Gradually, for an hour, the fury of nature increased until even Keith was awed. Excepting during the lulls, conversation was impossible. The lightning continued until midnight, after which the electrical storm rolled away to the west, though the wind continued at high pressure. When Keith
