came me.

* * * * *

Sunday, August 23rd. Where have we got to? In what region are we
wandering? We are still carried forward with inconceivable rapidity.

The night has been fearful, something not to be described. The storm
shows no signs of cessation. We exist in the midst of an uproar which
has no name. The detonations as of artillery are incessant. Our ears
literally bleed. We are unable to exchange a word, or hear each other
speak.

The lightning never ceases to flash for a single instant. I can see the
zigzags after a rapid dart strike the arched roof of this mightiest of
mighty vaults. If it were to give way and fall upon us! Other lightnings
plunge their forked streaks in every direction, and take the form of
globes of fire, which explode like bombshells over a beleaguered city.
The general crash and roar do not apparently increase; it has already
gone far beyond what human ear can appreciate. If all the powder
magazines in the world were to explode together, it would be impossible
for us to hear worse noise.

There is a constant emission of light from the storm clouds; the
electric matter is incessantly released; evidently the gaseous
principles of the air are out of order; innumerable columns of water
rush up like waterspouts, and fall back upon the surface of the ocean in
foam.

Whither are we going? My uncle still lies at full length upon the raft,
without speaking--without taking any note of time.

The heat increases. I look at the thermometer, to my surprise it
indicates--<i>The exact figure is here rubbed out in my manuscript.</i>

Monday, August 24th. This terrible storm will never end. Why should not
this state of the atmosphere, so dense and murky, once modified, again
remain definitive?

We are utterly broken and harassed by fatigue. Hans remains just as
usual. The raft runs to the southeast invariably. We have now already
run two hundred leagues from the newly discovered island.

About twelve o'clock the storm became worse than ever. We are obliged
now to fasten every bit of cargo tightly on the deck of the raft, or
everything would be swept away. We make ourselves fast, too, each man
lashing the other. The waves drive over us, so that several times we are
actually under water.

We had been under the painful necessity of abstaining from speech for
three days and three nights. We opened our mouths, we moved our lips,
but no sound came. Even when we placed