"Hullicane." "There you are, sir," said Jecks.

"Hurricanes or tycoons." "Typhoons," I said.
"Yes, sir, that's it, on'y you pernounces it different to me.

Don't make no difference in the strength on 'em," he continued testily, for his wound was evidently painful, "whether you spells it with a kay or a phoo.

Why, I seed big vessels arterwards, as had been blowed a quarter of a mile inland, where they could never be got off again." "Yes, I've heard of that sort of thing," I said.

"They ride in on a great wave and are left behind." "Lookye here, sir," whispered the coxswain, who seemed to ignore his wound; "I don't want to show no white feathers, nor to holler afore I'm hurt, but if I was you, I should ask Mr Brooke to run straight for the nearest shore--say one o' them islands there, afore the storm comes; you arn't got no idea what one o' them tycoons is like.