The rain began to pour in torrents, and the thunder and lightning to succeed each other in fearful rapidity.

My sister sprang to waken the Frenchman.

"Get up, Vitelle, quick," cried she, in French, "run up the bank for Mata and Mr.Arthur--tell them to come and get us instantly." The man made her no reply, but fell upon his knees, invoking the Virgin most vociferously.
"Do not wait for the Virgin, but go as quickly as possible.

Do you not see we shall all be killed ?" "Oh! not for the world, madame, not for the world," said Vitelle, burying his head in a pack of furs, "would I go up that bank in this storm." And here he began crying most lustily to all the saints in the calendar.
It Was indeed awful.

The roaring of the thunder and the flashing of the lightning around us were like the continued discharge of a park of artillery.