The Tornado. 
27 
The increasing stillness of the sea raised our 
spirits ; 
“For nature, only loud when she destroys, 
Is silent when she fashions.” 
But the storm-demon’s name is “Tornado” 
(Cyclone) : it will probably veer round to the 
south, where, meeting the dry clouds that are 
gathering and massing there, it will involve us in 
another fray. Meanwhile we are safe, and as 
the mist clears off we sight the southern shore. 
The humbler elevation, notably different from the 
northern bank, is dotted with villages and clearings. 
The Peninsule de Marie-Amelie, alias “ Round 
Corner,” the innermost southern point visible from 
the mouth, projects to the north-north-east in a 
line of scattered islets at high tides, ending in Le 
bois FStiche , a clump of tall trees somewhat ex¬ 
tensively used for picnics. It has served for 
worse purposes, as the name shows. 
A total of two hours landed me from the Comte 
de Paris Roads upon the open sandy strip that 
supports Denistown ; the single broad street runs 
at right angles from the river, the better to catch 
the sea-breeze, and most of the huts have open 
gables, a practice strongly to be recommended. 
Le Roi would not expose himself to the damp air ; 
the consul was not so particular. His majesty’s 
levee took place in the verandah of a poor bamboo 
