soon fast spinning along, and the breeze brushed all the haze
away, but the night was very dark, and the rain made it hard to see. Now
and then the thunder swallowed all other sounds, as the wild cries in the
desert are silenced by the lion's roar.

Sometimes there was an arch shining above as the flashes leaped across
the upper clouds, and then a sharp upright prong of forked lightning
darted straight down between, while rain was driven along by the wind,
and salt foam dashed up from the waves. It seemed like an earthly
version of that heavenly vision which was beheld in Patmos by the beloved
John:--"And I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the
voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings." {244}

How well our English word "thunder" suits the meaning in its sound, far
better than _tonnerre_ or _tonitru_!

In the dark, a cutter dashed by me, crossing the yawl's bows, just as the
lightning played on us both. It had no ship-light up, shameful to say.
I shouted out, "Going south?" and they answered, "Yes; come along off
that shore."

[Picture: The Owers chart]

From the bit of chart here copied (covering only a few miles) it will be
understood what kind of shore we had to avoid. There was quite water
enough for our shallow craft, but it was the twisting of currents and
tides that made the danger here.

The breeze now turned west, then south, and every other way, and it was
exceedingly perplexing to know at once what to do in each case,
especially as the waves became short and snappish under this pressure
from different sides, and yet my compass quietly pointed right, with a
soft radiance shining from it, and my mast-light in a brighter glow
gleamed from behind me {246} on the white crest of the waves.

At one time a heavy squall roughened the dark water, and taxed all my
powers to work the little yawl; but whenever a lull came, or a chance of
getting on my proper course again, I bent round to "East by North,"
determined to make way in that direction.

In the middle of the night my compass lamp began to glimmer faint, and it
was soon evident that the flame must go out. Here was a discomfort: the
wind veered so much that its direction would be utterly fallacious as a
guide to steer by, and this uncertainty might continue until the
lightning ceased. Therefore, at all hazards, we must light up the
compass again. So I took down the ship-light from the