forces of the tempest collected themselves, till at last they burst in
fury upon the island. In sustained violence and in the frenzy of its
assault it far surpassed that first storm. Before sundown the storm was
at its height, and, though yet day, the clouds were so dense and so
black that it became like night. Night came on, and the storm, and roar,
and darkness increased steadily every hour. So intense was the darkness
that the hand, when held close by the face, could not be distinguished.
So restless was the force of the wind that Brandon, on looking out to
sea, had to cling to the rock to prevent himself from being blown away.
A dense rain of spray streamed through the air, and the surf, rolling
up, flung its crest all across the island. Brandon could hear beneath
him, amidst some of the pauses of the storm, the hissing and bubbling of
foaming waters, as though the whole island, submerged by the waves, was
slowly settling down into the depths of the ocean.

Brandon's place of shelter was sufficiently elevated to be out of the
reach of the waves that might rush upon the land, and on the lee-side of
the rock, so that he was sufficiently protected. Sand, which he had
carried up, formed his bed. In this place, which was more like the lair
of a wild beast than the abode of a human being, he had to live. Many
wakeful nights he had passed there, but never had he known such a night
as this.

There was a frenzy about this hurricane that would have been
inconceivable if he had not witnessed it. His senses, refined and
rendered acute by long vigils and slender diet, seemed to detect audible
words in the voice of the storm. Looking out through the gloom his sight
seemed to discern shapes flitting by like lightning, as though the
fabled spirits of the storm had gathered here.