During the weight of the gust, no one had leisure, or indeed inclination to look to aught beyond its effect on the brig.  Had one been otherwise disposed, the attempt would have been useless, for the wind had filled the air with spray, and near the islets even with sand.  The lurid but fiery tinge, too, interposed a veil that no human eye could penetrate.  As the tornado passed onward, however, and the winds lulled, the air again became clear, and in five minutes after the moment when the Swash lay nearly on her side, with her lower yard-arm actually within a few feet of the water, all was still and placid around her, as one is accustomed to see the ocean in a calm, of a summer’s afternoon.  Then it was that those who had been in such extreme jeopardy could breathe freely and look about them.  On board the Swash all was well—­not a rope-yarn had parted, or an eyebolt drawn.  The timely precautions of Spike had saved his brig, and great was his joy thereat.

In the midst of the infernal din of the tornado, screams had ascended from the cabin, and the instant he could quit the deck with propriety, Mulford sprang below, in order to ascertain their cause.  He apprehended that some of the females had been driven to leeward when the brig went over, and that part of the luggage or furniture had fallen on them.  In the main cabin, the mate found Senor Montefalderon just quitting his berth, composed, gentleman-like, and collected.  Josh was braced in a corner nearly grey with fear, while Jack Tier still lay on the cabin floor, at the last point to which he had rolled.  One word sufficed to let Don Juan know that the gust had passed, and the brig was safe, when Mulford tapped at the deor of the inner cabin.  Rose appeared, pale, but calm and unhurt.

“Is any one injured?” asked the young man, his mind relieved at once, as soon as he saw that she who most occupied his thoughts was safe; “we heard screams from this cabin.”

“My aunt and Biddy have been frightened,” answered Rose, “but neither has been hurt.  Oh, Harry, what terrible thing has happened to us?  I heard the roaring of—­”

" ’T was a tornado,” interrupted Mulford eagerly, “but ’t is over.  ’T was one of those sudden and tremendous gusts that sometimes occur within the tropics, in which the danger is usually in the first shock.  If no one is injured in this cabin, no one is injured at all.”

“Oh, Mr. Mulford—­dear Mr. Mulford!” exclaimed the relict, from the corner into which she had been followed and jammed by Biddy, “Oh, Mr. Mulford, are we foundered or not?”

“Heaven be praised, not, my dear ma’am, though we came nearer to it than I ever was before.”

“Are we cap-asided?”

“Nor that, Mrs. Budd; the brig is as upright as a church.”

“Upright!” repeated Biddy, in her customary accent,—­“is it as a church?  Sure, then, Mr. Mate, ’t is a Presbyterian church that you mane, and that is always totterin’.”