A
lumbering crash followed instantaneously, shaking the building to
its very foundation. All started from their seats, imagining it
the shock of an earthquake, or that old Father Red-cap was coming
among them in all his terrors. They listened for a moment, but
only heard the rain pelting against the windows and the wind
howling among the trees. The explosion was soon explained by the
apparition of an old negro's bald head thrust in at the door, his
white goggle eyes contrasting with his jetty poll, which was wet
with rain, and shone like a bottle. In a jargon but half
intelligible he announced that the kitchen chimney had been struck
with lightning.
A sullen pause of the storm, which now rose and sank in gusts,
produced a momentary stillness. In this interval the report of a
musket was heard, and a long shout, almost like a yell, resounded
from the shores. Everyone crowded to the window; another musket
shot was heard, and another long shout, mingled wildly with a
rising blast of wind. It seemed as if the cry came up from the
bosom of the waters, for though incessant flashes of lightning
spread a light about the shore, no one was to be seen.
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