"What can that be?" murmured Lennard, with his bold face blanched. "That
caps everything."
The masterful sound held on for a little, and then sank into a tired
sort of moan.
"Callin' them together, sir,--that's what some o' the West Country chaps
calls the King o' the Winds speakin'. It's only snow gettin' locked in
the sky, and you'll see it come away in a little."
"I don't know what it is, Ebenezer, but I don't like it."
On deck the night was black, the splendid green of the west had burnt
out, and a breeze was making little efforts from time to time, with
little hollow moans.
"Bad, bad, bad, bad, sir," barked the skipper, angrily.
The vanward flights of twirling flakes came on then, as if suddenly
unleashed, the wind sprang up, and the great fight began. If you,
whoever you may be, and two more strong men had tried to shut an
ordinary door in the teeth of that first shock, you would have failed,
for the momentum was like that of iron.
"Steady, and look out," the skipper yelled.
The third hand was lifted off his feet and dashed into the lee channels.
Ferrier fought hard, but he was clutched by the hand of the wind, and
held against the mizen-mast; he could just clutch the rest in which a
lifebuoy was hanging, and that alone saved him from being felled.
The Lord is a Man of War! Surely His hosts were abroad now. No work of
man's hands could endure the onset of the forces let loose on that bad
night.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111