Alexander began to whistle, then climbed down into the boat and took an oar.  When he had his feet on land he walked up King Street more hastily than was his habit in the month of August.  But here, although the town might have been a necropolis, so quiet was it, it had not put on a death mask.  There was no mist here; the beautiful coral houses gleamed under the moonbeams as if turned to marble, and Alexander forgot the horror of the waters and paused to note, as he had done many times before, the curious Alpine contrast of these pure white masses against the green and burnished arches of tropic trees.  Then he passed through the swimming-bath to his bed, and a half-hour later slept as soundly as if the terrible forces of the Caribbean world were safe in leash.

IX

When he awoke, at seven o’clock, he heard a dull low roar in the southeast, which arrested his attention at once as a sound quite dissimilar from the boom of the reef.  As he crossed Strand Street to Mr. Cruger’s store, an hour later, he noticed that a strong wind blew from the same direction and that the atmosphere was a sickly yellow.  For a moment, he thought of the hurricane which he had passed his life expecting, but he had a head full of business and soon forgot both roar and wind.  He was immediately immersed in a long and precise statement of his trip, writing from notes and memory, muttering to himself, utterly oblivious to the opening of the windows or the salutations of the clerks.  Mr. Cruger arrived after the late breakfast.  He looked worried, but shook Alexander’s hand heartily, and thanked heaven, with some fervour, that he had returned the night before.  They retired to the private office on the court, and Mr. Cruger listened with interest to young Hamilton’s account of his trip, although it was evident that his mind felt the strain of another matter.  He said abruptly:—­

“The barometer was down two-tenths when I visited the Fort at a quarter to eleven.  I’d give a good deal to know where it is now.”

Alexander remembered his aunt’s barometer, which he had hung in his room before sailing, and volunteered to go over and look at it.

“Do,” exclaimed Mr. Cruger; “and see if the wind’s shifted.”

As Alexander crossed Strand Street to the side door of Mr. Mitchell’s house he encountered the strongest wind he had ever known, and black clouds were racing back and forth as if lost and distracted.  He returned to tell Mr. Cruger that the barometer stood at 30.03.

“And the wind hasn’t shifted?” demanded Mr. Cruger.  “That means we’ll be in the direct path of a hurricane before the day is half out, unless things change for the better.  If the barometer falls four-tenths”—­he spread out his hands expressively.  “Of course we have many scares.  Unless we hear two double guns from the Fort, there will be no real cause for alarm; but when you hear that, get on your horse as quick as you can and ride to warn the planters.  The Lyttons and Stevens and Mitchells will do for you.  I’ll send out three of the other boys.”