Free The Cay by Theodore Taylor Page B

and put it into the tin box, which he lashed high on the same tree that held our water keg.
    “We ready, Phill-eep,” he said.

CHAPTER

Fifteen
    A T SUNSET , with the air heavy and hot, Timothy described the sky to me. He said it was flaming red and that there were thin veils of high clouds. It was so still over our cay that we could hear nothing but the rustling of the lizards.
    Just before dark, Timothy said, “ ’Twon’t be long now, Phill-eep.”
    We felt a light breeze that began to ripple the smooth sea. Timothy said he saw an arc of veryblack clouds to the west. They looked as though they were beginning to join the higher clouds.
    I gathered Stew Cat close to me as we waited, feeling the warm breeze against my face. Now and then, there were gusts of wind that rattled the palm fronds, shaking the little hut.
    It was well after dark when the first drops of rain spattered the hut, and with them, the wind turned cool. When it gusted, the rain hit the hut like handfuls of gravel.
    Then the wind began to blow steadily, and Timothy went out of the hut to look up at the sky. He shouted, “Dey boilin’ ovah now, Phill-eep. ’Tis hurrican’, to be sure.”
    We could hear the surf beginning to crash as the wind drove waves before it, and Timothy ducked back inside to stand in the opening of the hut, his big body stretched so that he could hang onto the overhead frame, keeping the hut erect as long as possible.
    I felt movement around my legs and feet. Things were slithering. I screamed to Timothy who shouted back, “B’nothin’ but d’lil’ lizzard, comin’ high groun’.”
    Rain was now slashing into the hut, and the wind was reaching a steady howl. The crash of the surf sounded closer; I wondered if it was already beginning to push up toward our hill. The rain was icy, and I was wet, head to foot. I was shivering, but more from the thought of the sea rolling over us than from the sudden cold.
    In a moment, there was a splintering sound, and Timothy dropped down beside me, covering my body with his. Our hut had blown away. He shouted, “Phill-eep, put your ’ead downg.” I rolled over on my stomach, my cheek against the wet sand. Stew Cat burrowed down between us.
    There was no sound now except the roar of the storm. Even the sound of the wind was being beaten down by the wildness of the sea. The rain was hitting my back like thousands of hard berries blown from air guns.
    Once something solid hit us and then rolled on. “Sea grape,” Timothy shouted. It was being torn up by the roots.
    We stayed flat on the ground for almost two hours, taking the storm’s punishment, barely able to breathe in the driving rain. Then Timothy shouted hoarsely, “To d’palm.”
    The sea was beginning to reach for our hilltop, climbing the forty feet with raging whitecaps. Timothy dragged me toward the palm. I held Stew Cat against my chest.
    Standing with his back to the storm, Timothy put my arms through the loops of rope, and then roped himself, behind me, to the tree.
    Soon, I felt water around my ankles. Then it washed to my knees. It would go back and then crash against us again. Timothy was taking the full blows of the storm, sheltering me with his body. When the water receded, it would tug at us, andTimothy’s strength would fight against it. I could feel the steel in his arms as the water tried to suck us away.
    Even in front of him, crushed against the trunk of the palm, I could feel the rain, which was now jabbing into me like the punches of a nail. It was not falling toward earth but being driven straight ahead by the wind.
    We must have been against the palm for almost an hour when suddenly the wind died down and the rain became gentle. Timothy panted, “D’eye! We can relax a bit till d’odder side o’ d’tempis’ hit us.”
    I remembered that hurricanes, which are great circling storms, have a calm eye in the center.
    “Are you all right?” I asked.
    He replied hoarsely, “I b’damp, but all