They managed to drink some cocoanut milk, prepared in a
palatable fashion by the natives of the island, and then,
much to their disgust, they were taken below again and
locked in the cabin.
"Whew! But it certainly is hot!" exclaimed Mr. Damon as he
sat down on a couch and fanned himself. "This is awful!"
"Yes, something is going to happen pretty soon," observed
Captain Weston. "The storm will break shortly, I think."
They sat languidly about the cabin. It was so oppressive
that even the thought of the doom that awaited them in the
morning could hardly seem worse than the terrible heat. They
could hear movements going on about the ship, movements
which indicated that preparations were being made for
something unusual. There was a rattling of a chain through a
hawse hole, and Captain Weston remarked:
"They're putting down another anchor. Admiral Fanchetti
had better get away from the island, though, unless he wants
to be wrecked. He'll be blown ashore in less than no time. No
cable or chain will hold in such storms as they have here."
There came a period of silence, which was suddenly broken
by a howl as of some wild beast.
"What's that?" cried Tom, springing up from where he was
stretched out on the cabin floor.
"Only the wind," replied the captain.
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