The storm increased in violence.  The rain began to pour in torrents, and the thunder and lightning to succeed each other in fearful rapidity.  My sister sprang to waken the Frenchman.  “Get up, Vitelle, quick,” cried she, in French, “run up the bank for Mata and Mr. Arthur—­tell them to come and get us instantly.”

The man made her no reply, but fell upon his knees, invoking the Virgin most vociferously.

“Do not wait for the Virgin, but go as quickly as possible.  Do you not see we shall all be killed?”

“Oh! not for the world, madame, not for the world,” said Vitelle, burying his head in a pack of furs, “would I go up that bank in this storm.”  And here he began crying most lustily to all the saints in the calendar.

It Was indeed awful.  The roaring of the thunder and the flashing of the lightning around us were like the continued discharge of a park of artillery.  I with some difficulty drew forth my cloak, and enveloped myself and Josette—­sister Margaret did the same with Edwin.

“Oh I madame,” said the poor little girl, her teeth chattering with cold and fright, “won’t we be drowned?”

“Very well,” said my sister to the Frenchman, “you see that Madame John is at the last agony—­if you will not go for help I must, and Monsieur John must know that you left his wife to perish.”

This was too much for Vitelle.  “If I must, I must,” said he, and with a desperate bound he leaped on shore and sped up the hill with might and main.

In a few minutes, though it seemed ages to us, a whole posse came flying down the hill.  The incessant lightning made all things appear as in the glare of day.  Mata’s curly hair fairly stood on end, and his eyes rolled with ghastly astonishment at the spectacle.

“Oh, my God, Madame Johns! what would Monsieur Johns say, to see you nows?” exclaimed he, as he seized me in his arms and bore me up the hill.  Arthur followed with sister Margaret, and two others with Edwin and Josette.  Nobody carried Vitelle, for he had taken care not to risk his precious life by venturing again to the boat.

On arriving at the cabin where Arthur and Mata had been lodged, a fire was, with some difficulty, kindled, and our trunks having been brought up from the boat, we were at length able to exchange our drenched garments, and those of the children, for others more comfortable, after which we laid ourselves upon the clean but homely bed, and slept until daylight.

As it was necessary to ascertain what degree of damage the cargo of furs had sustained, an early start was proposed.  Apparently, the inhabitants of the cottages had become weary in well-doing, for they declined preparing breakfast for us, although we assured them they should be well compensated for their trouble.  We, consequently, saw ourselves compelled to depart with very slender prospects of a morning meal.