Now if a cloud happens to be exactly in the point where two such furious
currents of wind meet, it is turned round and round by them with great
speed and is condensed into the form of a cone; this whirling motion
drives from the centre of the cloud all the particles contained in it,
producing what is called a vacuum, or empty space, into which the water
or any thing else lying beneath it has an irresistible tendency to rush.
Underneath the dense impending cloud, the sea becomes violently
agitated, and the waves dart rapidly towards the centre of the troubled
mass of water: on reaching it they disperse in vapor, and rise, whirling
in a spiral direction towards the cloud. The descending and ascending
columns unite, the whole presenting the appearance of a hollow cylinder,
or tube of glass, empty within. This, Maltebrun tells us, and he further
adds, "it glides over the sea without any wind being felt; indeed
several have been seen at once, pursuing different directions. When the
cloud and the marine base of the waterspout move with equal velocity,
the lower cone is often seen to incline sideways, or even to bend, and
finally to burst in pieces. A noise is then heard like the noise of a
cataract falling in a deep valley. Lightning frequently issues from the
very bosom of the waterspout, particularly when it breaks; but no
thunder is ever heard."

Sailors, to prevent the danger which would arise from coming in contact
with one of these tremendous columns, discharge a cannon into it: the
ball passing through it breaks the watery cylinder, and causes it to
burst, just as a touch causes your beautiful soap-bubbles to vanish, and
turn to water again. These waterspouts, at sea, generally occur between
the tropics, and I believe frequently after a calm, such as the poet
has described in the following lines:

"Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,