stood alone in its midst!

A tremendous tumult arose all about, like the prelude of an apocalypse,
spreading the terror of the ultimate end of the earth. And amidst it
thousands of voices could be heard above, shrieking, bellowing, calling,
as from a great distance. It was only the wind, the great motive breath
of all this disorder, the voice of the invisible power ruling all. Then
came other voices, nearer and less indefinite, threatening destruction,
and making the water shudder and hiss as if on burning coals; the
disturbance increased in terror.

Notwithstanding their flight, the sea began to gain on them, to "bury
them up," as they phrased it: first the spray fell down on them from
behind, and masses of water thrown with such violence as to break
everything in their course. The waves were ever increasing, and the
tempest tore off their ridges and hurled them, too, upon the poop, like
a demon's game of snowballing, till dashed to atoms on the bulwarks.
Heavier masses fell on the planks with a hammering sound, till
the _Marie_ shivered throughout, as if in pain. Nothing could be
distinguished over the side, because of the screen of creamy foam;
and when the winds soughed more loudly, this foam formed into whirling
spouts, like the dust of the way in summer time. At length a heavy
rain fell crossways, and soon straight up and down, and how all these
elements of destruction yelled together, clashed and interlocked, no
tongue can tell.

Yann and Sylvestre stuck staunchly to the helm, covered with their
waterproofs, hard and shiny as sharkskin; they had firmly secured them
at the throat by tarred strings, and likewise at wrists and ankles to
prevent the water from running in, and the rain only poured off them;
when it fell too heavily, they arched their backs, and held all the more
stoutly, not to be thrown over the board. Their cheeks burned, and every
minute their breath was beaten out or stopped.

After each sea was shipped and rushed over, they exchanged glances,
grinning at the crust of salt settled in their beards.

In the long run though, this became tiresome, an unceasing fury, which
always promised a worse visitation. The fury of men and beasts soon
falls and dies away; but the fury of lifeless things, without cause or
object, is as mysterious as life and death, and has to be borne for very
long.

"Jean Francois de Nantes;

Jean Francois,

Jean Francois!"

Through their pale lips still came the refra