Just as we were approaching the horrid temple, a growl
of thunder burst overhead and heavy drops of rain began to fall.
Those who have not witnessed gales and storms in tropical regions can
form but a faint conception of the fearful hurricane that burst upon
the island of Mango at this time. Before we reached the temple, the
storm burst upon us with a deafening roar, and the natives, who knew
too well the devastation that was to follow, fled right and left
through the woods in order to save their property, leaving us alone in
the midst of the howling storm. The trees around us bent before the
blast like willows, and we were about to flee in order to seek shelter,
when the teacher ran towards us with a knife in his hand.
"Thank the Lord," he said, cutting our bonds, "I am in time! Now, seek
the shelter of the nearest rock."
This we did without a moment's hesitation, for the whistling wind
burst, ever and anon, like thunder-claps among the trees, and tearing
them from their roots, hurled them with violence to the ground. Rain
cut across the land in sheets, and lightning played like forked
serpents in the air, while high above the roar of the hissing tempest
the thunder crashed and burst and rolled in awful majesty.
In the village the scene was absolutely appalling. Roofs were blown
completely off the houses in many cases, and in others the houses
themselves were levelled with the ground.
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