that we're goin' to
have a dirty night of it, an' I think we'd better look to our roofs an'
make all snug. If our ground-tackle ain't better than that o' the tree
which has just gone by the board, we shall have a poor look-out."

There was much cause for the anxiety which the seaman expressed
regarding the roofs of the houses. Already, before they got back to the
village, part of the roof of one of the oldest huts had been stripped
off, and the women were beginning to look anxiously upwards as they
heard the clattering overhead.

"Now, lads, all hands to work. Not a moment too soon either. Out wi'
the old tacklin' o' the _Bounty_. Get the tarpaulins up. Lash one over
Toc's hut. Clap some big stones on Quintal's. Fetch the ladders, some
o' you youngsters. Out o' the way, boys. Here, Mainmast; you get the
little 'uns off to their bunks. Fetch me the big sledge-hammer,
Charlie. Look alive, lads!"

While he shouted these directions, John Adams went to work as actively
as the youngest among them. Every one wrought with a will. In a few
minutes all moveables were carried under shelter, heavy stones were
placed where they were required, tarpaulins and stout ropes were lashed
over roofs and pegged to the ground, shutters and doors were made fast,
and, in short, the whole village was "made snug" for a "dirty night"
with almost as much celerity as if it had been a fully-manned and
well-disciplined ship of the line.

As John Adams had said, it was not begun a moment too soon. They had
barely finished, indeed, when the heavens appeared to rend with a
blinding flash of lightning. Then came a thunder crash, or, rather, a
series of crashes and flashes, that seemed to imply the final crack of
doom. This was followed by rain in sheets so heavy that it seemed as if
the ocean had been lifted and poured upon the island. To render the
confusion worse confounded, the wind came in what may be called swirls,
overturning trees as if they were straws, and mixing up rain, mud,
stones, and branches in the great hurly-burly, until ancient chaos
seemed to reign on land and sea.

"It's an awful night," said John Adams, as he sat beside his wife and
listened, while the children, unable to sleep, peeped in awe and wonder
from their several bunks round the room. "God save them that's at sea
this night."

"Amen!" said Mrs Adams.

By midnight the typhoon had reached its height. The timbers of the
houses appeared to groan unde