Chita: a Memory of Last Island by Lafcadio Hearn
page 25 of 102 (24%)
page 25 of 102 (24%)
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The nearest mainland,--across mad Caillou Bay to the
sea-marshes,--lay twelve miles north; west, by the Gulf, the nearest solid ground was twenty miles distant. There were boats, yes!--but the stoutest swimmer might never reach them now! Then rose a frightful cry,--the hoarse, hideous, indescribable cry of hopeless fear,--the despairing animal-cry man utters when suddenly brought face to face with Nothingness, without preparation, without consolation, without possibility of respite ... Sauve qui peut! Some wrenched down the doors; some clung to the heavy banquet-tables, to the sofas, to the billiard. tables:--during one terrible instant,--against fruitless heroisms, against futile generosities,--raged all the frenzy of selfishness, all the brutalities of panic. And then--then came, thundering through the blackness, the giant swells, boom on boom! ... One crash!--the huge frame building rocks like a cradle, seesaws, crackles. What are human shrieks now?--the tornado is shrieking! Another!--chandeliers splinter; lights are dashed out; a sweeping cataract hurls in: the immense hall rises,--oscillates,--twirls as upon a pivot,--crepitates,--crumbles into ruin. Crash again!--the swirling wreck dissolves into the wallowing of another monster billow; and a hundred cottages overturn, spin in sudden eddies, quiver, disjoint, and melt into the seething. ... So the hurricane passed,--tearing off the heads of the prodigious waves, to hurl them a hundred feet in air,--heaping up the ocean against the land,--upturning the woods. Bays and passes were swollen to abysses; rivers regorged; the sea-marshes were changed to raging wastes of water. Before New Orleans the |
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