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"I know not how many hours slipped away. Oh, what a night, what a night! It was cold. My fire had died out in the huge grate; and the wind, the winter wind, an icy wind, a winter hurricane, blew with a regular, sinister noise against the windows. "How many hours slipped away?
The "Constitution" hauled off for half an hour to repair damages, and upon returning received the "Guerrière's" surrender. It was then dark, and the night was passed in transferring the prisoners. When day broke, the prize was found so shattered that it would be impossible to bring her into port. She was consequently set on fire at 3 P.M., and soon after blew up.
My uncle got into his hat and coat, and buckled an old rusty cutlass on; and then we trod the fire out, locked the door, and set forth upon our walk. The wind, being in that cold quarter, the north-west, blew nearly in our faces as we went.
Indeed, had she been loaded, and therefore deep, she could not have lived an hour in that hollow and frightful ocean; but having nothing in her but ballast she was like a bladder, and swung up the surges and blew away to leeward like an empty cask. When the dawn broke something of its midnight fury went out of the gale.
These winds come a little from the eastward of southeast, and with us they blew directly from the east-southeast, which was fortunate for us, as our course was south-by-west, and we could thus go one point free.
He was wondering whether the man he was dealing with was clever beyond the average, or a fool. He was still balancing the point in his mind when Bill put the question. Lablache looked away, produced a snuff-box and drew up a large pinch of snuff before answering. He blew his nose with trumpet-like vehemence on a great red bandana.
It was peaceful too on the portico, and a youth who had been through Grant's Wilderness campaign, a month of continuous and terrible fighting, was glad to rest for a while. The distant rifle fire and the occasional cannon shot had no significance and did not disturb him. They blended now with the breeze that blew among the leaves of the apple trees.
Lyman seized him, dragged him to the shore, stretched him upon the ground. "Are you hurt?" he asked, feeling for his heart. The man muttered something. Lyman struck a match, looked at the man's face, blew out the match, tossed the burnt stem into the road and said to himself: "Of course I had to be the one to find him. Are you hurt, Sawyer?"
The rain fell with depressing regularity, the wind blew gustily, but the ice had been broken, an example had been set, and they all vied with each other in forgetting their troubles in laughter. "Blessed if it ain't Saturday night!" said one. It was impossible to say offhand what day it was, but after a slight argument they arrived at the astounding discovery that it was indeed Saturday.
Of course it was the egrets and their presence here explained their absence in the treetops. But, why were they all so motionless? Before, he had been unable to approach to within a dozen paces of them! Now, not one stirred although he was less than half that distance away and the slight wind that blew ruffled their feathers in a most peculiar manner. He drew still nearer.
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