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Updated: May 18, 2025
Elmo's fire, witch lights condensations of atmospheric electricity," Ventnor's voice was calm; now that it was plain we were nearing the heart of this mystery in which we were enmeshed he had clearly taken fresh grip, was again his observant, scientific self. We watched, once more silent; and indeed we had spoken little since we had begun that ride whose end we sensed close.
It lasted and we endured. After long while came lessening in that weight of rain, and then cessation. Suddenly the tempest was over. There shone a star three stars and on topmast and bowsprit Saint Elmo's lights. Our mariners shouted, "Safe safe! Saint Elmo!" Suddenly, over all the sky, were stars shining. The Admiral raised his great voice. "Sing, all of us! 'Stella Maris Sancta Maria!"
Elmo's light; and the form of the vane could almost be traced, as if it had been rubbed with phosphorus. The sea was so highly luminous, that the tracks of the penguins were marked by a fiery wake, and the darkness of the sky was momentarily illuminated by the most vivid lightning. When within the mouth of the river, I was interested by observing how slowly the waters of the sea and river mixed.
What do you suppose was St. Elmo's criticism on this matrimonial mismatch? 'Poor devil! Before a year rolls over his head he will feel like plunging into the Atlantic, with Plymouth Rock for a necklace!
Murray shook his head mournfully, and the moonlight shining on his face showed it colorless, haggard, hopeless. The pastor rose, put on his hat, and took St. Elmo's arm. "Come home with me. This spot is fraught with painful associations that open afresh all your wounds."
In a few minutes the ship righted again, the water rolling from her as it drips from the plumage of a swan, and the crew, drenched to the skin, returned to their tasks. "See! The St. Elmo's fire is still shining at the mast-head!" cried Philip, "if it were not kindled by the devil, that flood of water would have put it out."
Elmo's face a light, a great joy, such as human countenances rarely wear this side of the grave. When Mr.
We pardon his puns, indeed we believe them to be inevitable, the flash of the percussion cap, the sparks of electricity, St. Elmo's stars, phosphorescent gleams, playing over the restless ocean of his fruitful imagination.
Young was called from his bed to pray, he, too, confoundedly astonished and at a loss for any sort of explanation, confessed that he had never seen anything like it in the sky or anywhere else in such cold wet weather, but that it was probably some sort of spontaneous combustion "that the white man called St. Elmo's fire, or Will-of-the-wisp."
I would sooner stretch out my fingers to clasp those of Gardiner, reeking with the blood of his victims, or those of Ravaillac! Ah! well might Dante shudder in painting the chilling horrors of Cama." The room was dusky with the shadow of coming night; but the fading flush, low in the west, showed St. Elmo's face colorless, rigid, repulsive in its wrathful defiance.
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