NONSUCH 



on its way. Primitive man was our equal and con- 

 temporary as to fear and respect for Weather in 

 this mood, and I routed out the staff and packed up 

 all valuable records, instruments, books and speci- 

 mens ; during the last hurricane half the roofs had 

 gone and we could afford to take no chances. 



At the first hint of dawn we stripped the Skink, 

 and sent the brave little launch across the three 

 miles of reef and smothering foam, to the one safe 

 bay near St. Georges where every boat at this end 

 of the island scuttles to safety. We shouted good 

 luck and watched our last means of communication 

 with the outside world vanish in the dusk of the pale 

 green dawn. We were alone on Nonsuch with the 

 beginning of a hurricane. 



There was no morning or afternoon — the light 

 flickered, flaring and dimming — all sense of time 

 went, only the wind steadily increased. I crept from 

 building to building, attended by a hammer-and- 

 nail-and-board companion, fastening a loose win- 

 dow here, putting another cross-bar there. 



Once I went up on the sheltered cliff, but could 

 see nothing clearly. I alarmed a cardinal which 

 flew up from a sage-bush at my side, and at about 

 ten feet elevation might as well have been struck 

 with a full charge of shot, so completely was it 

 whelmed by the rush of wind, dashed over and over 

 and out into the deadly maelstrom of water in the 

 bay. 



It was impossible to face the wind, the drops of 

 water and sand stung like hot shot, the pain was 



168 



