Frowning, the big man leaned his full weight against the wall. At that moment the earth shook, the Citadel seemed to be lifted from the ground, and the men in the courtyard were scattered like grains of dust before a high wind. A portion of the weakened fortress collapsed with a deafening roar, and the high-pitched, agonized screams of the wounded mingled with the thunder of falling debris. Some parts of the once mighty Citadel still stood, but their very appearance of solidity suddenly seemed incongruous.
Dirk was lying in the middle of the yard, his legs pinned down by a heavy beam of mahogany which had lost the force of its fall before toppling him to the ground. Spitting out dirt, he sat up and looked around for help. The few men whom he could see were obviously in greater need of assistance than he himself required. He took hold of the end of the timber and pushed, but nothing happened. Grunting in exasperation, he put all of his strength into the effort. The thick plank moved a few inches, just enough for Dirk to draw his legs free.
Spitting again, he lifted himself to his feet and ruefully inspected a long rip in the fabric of his tunic, the best and most expensive item of clothing he had ever owned. Shrugging, he wiped the palms of his hands on the sides of his breeches. Curiously, all the fight had gone out of him. . . .
There was an unobstructed view of the battle from the veranda of the Rainbow Inn, as the land on which the tavern was located jutted out some fifty feet into the water and nothing stood between it and the Citadel. While the distance was too great to make out the features of individual men, Esther Mary Pennywell watched in fascination as the red-coated troops of the brigade swarmed higher and still higher up the ramparts. Janine Groliere stood beside her, sickened by the spectacle of war.
"How can you be so sure that Jeremy is ail right?"
"It's plain, that's how! So plain that even a lovesick fool could see it if she weren't frightened out of her wits!" Esther Mary replied without taking her eyes from the battle. "There are only two men on this island who could have repaired the cannon—Dirk and Jeremy. I don't pretend to know what happened to them when they rode up into hills with that mad scheme of appealing to Sir Arthur Bartlett. But the old man obviously listened to them. You know the tales we heard from the men who were sent by the Duchess yesterday morning to take us prisoner "
"Those filthy boucaniers!" Janine shuddered at the memory.
For the first time Esther Mary tore her gaze from the battlements of the fortress, and her dark eyes were stormy. "Not all that filthy. They warned us—instead of dragging us to the Citadel, didn't they? That's because they were my friends— my brothers. I happen to know something about the boucaniers, and you can believe me, Sister Janine, when they put a cannon out of action, it takes a master hand to restore it. I say that Dirk has the physical strength to do the job, but he needed Jeremy to direct him. So they're safe. They're probably at King's House at this very minute, smoking a pipe or a segaro with the governor general and accepting his congratulations. So stop your incessant worrying!"
Illogically Janine shifted ground. "You seem to think considerable of Master Friendly," she said accusingly.
"I do indeed," was the bald reply. "I need a man with more brawn and less intelligence than I myself possess. I've found him."
She had no opportunity to say anything more, for at that moment the first tremor of the earthquake struck, and the better part of the rickety patchwork of buildings that made up the Rainbow promptly folded like a pack of playing cards and collapsed. None of the debris struck the veranda, however, and both girls were unharmed, though badly shaken. With unspoken accord they moved away from the scene of destruction to the nearby open field, which seemed friendly and harmless. Weeds and grass were still upright, and a few faded June flowers peered up out of the parched June earth.
A few moments later the second quake occurred, and after it was over they struggled to their feet and began to run together in the general direction of the Pennywell house. Neither spoke, and there was no need for speech. Nor did they look at the incredible wreckage which the two tremors had left in their wake. This was a time when self-preservation was the foremost concern of every human being, and if the two girls remained close to each other, it was only because each drew a sense of security from the other.
They were no more than two short town squares from the little cottage when a sustained roar that grew louder by the second welled up behind them. Esther Mary turned her head without slackening her pace, and her eyes grew wide with horror. Stopping, she clutched Janine's arm and dragged the slighter girl to a halt. "Look!" she screamed hysterically. "Look!"
A solid wall of water seemed to be bearing down on them, and as Janine tried to take in the enormity of what was happening, she realized dimly that a tidal wave had been thrown up by the sea as a result of the two violent earthquakes. She reacted with speed and calm and immediately scrambled up the ruined pilings of a fallen house, pulling Esther Mary after her. This vantage point gave them the benefit of only four feet of added height, but it was the best available.
The gray-green water rolled nearer at an alarming rate, and Esther Mary stood precariously on a pile of timbers, crying wildly. "I can't swim!" she sobbed. "I can't swim!"
Janine, in possession of all her faculties, glanced at the other girl for an instant, then drew back her hand and slapped Esther Mary hard across the face. "Don't worry," she said coldly. "I can swim. And I give you my word that I won't save myself without saving you too."
The waters of the Caribbean swirled up around them and pressed deeper inland. The jumble of wooden supports shook as the sea crept over them and lapped at the feet of the two girls. Then, after a few minutes that seemed like years, the tidal wave began to recede, sucking livestock and personal property, dead bodies and an indescribable mass of debris with it.
Esther Mary Pennywell was breathing deeply and rapidly, but her eyes were calmer as she watched the Caribbean take unto itself the pitiful remnants of man and his works which the holocaust had left in its wake. But now that the worst was over, Janine Groliere felt spent, utterly exhausted. She began to weep silently, and Esther Mary looked at her, then began to cry too.
They put their arms around each other's waists for comfort, and together they watched the tidal wave, ugly and evil and shimmering in the sunlight like a live thing as it returned to the sea. Though the girls were comparatively safe at the moment, neither quite realized it. They were conscious only of the hot tears that rolled down their cheeks, leaving a residue of salt. The Caribbean left its trail of salt marks, too, on the face of the land. . . .
Thomas, Lord Murray stood on the remains of what had been a long and solidly constructed wharf, staring out toward the placid sea. His eyes burned intensely, feverishly, and his young, cynical mouth was set in hard lines. He had wasted years of his life, thrown away a vast fortune on a venture that had ended in dismal failure, and there was no hope now that the new empire for which he had schemed would ever materialize. Frowning, he drew a large fob watch from a waistcoat pocket and glanced at it impatiently, unaware that this was the fourth time in as many minutes that he had repeated the gesture.
If Ian MacGregor did not appear soon. Lord Murray thought, he was certainly dead, killed by the earthquake. There was no doubt that he had made good his escape from the Citadel, for they had stood together at the head of the dark staircase leading down to the secret tunnel, and Ian had promised that he would wait two minutes, no longer, for Caroline. If she did not appear in that time, he had said, he would come on and join Lord Murray at the wharf.