calm; the steady, hot sirocco from the prairies had blown itself out, and now there were dead doldrums in which the water seemed to drag like weeds in the Sargasso sea. But the water was clear like black glass. All through the fleet, balloon jibs, fisherman sails and spinnakers were spread to catch every capful of wind. To the west, down by the watery horizon, lightning flashed and forked.
"Heat lightning," Jay said; for the stillness was very hot, Rolling over the stars came a curtain—clouds, black clouds—and squalls struck the sails. Some took it behind, some took it abeam, some headed into it. Spinnakers came down; balloon jibs and topsails. The fleet was scattering.
The masthead lantern and the red and green lights of a steamer approached. It hailed the Arletta.
"There's a big blow on the way."
"We know it," the skurrying Arletta acknowledged. "You better get in to Gary."
The lightning, leaping from cloud to cloud, became attracted to the lake. Down forked the flashes; down, down and spreading. Distant, at first; four flashes came before the thunder. Then the thunder caught up and was continuous. The squalls stopped. Here was the blow! The lightning showed it coming out of the north. There it struck a schooner's sails; there it carried a yawl's topmast away.
Under jib and reefed mainsail, the Arletta leaned on the starboard tack and skimmed a sloop on the port tack. Lyman shouted to Jay: "This is what they don't believe, when I tell 'em east. The sea can show nothing as sporty. You got to have your water in the center of a continent to work up wind like this."
