About the middle of July, the weather for three or four days became so excessively hot, as seemed to preclude any exercise, except very late in the evening: this uncommon degree of warmth was followed by a tremendous storm of thunder and lightning; and though the weather cleared a little in the middle of the day, the evening again closed with a renewal of the tempestuous weather, attended by a violent wind.
While the weather had been tolerable, the Rosses had walked to the Farm to spend the remainder of the day, and were there when the tempest began again with added horrors, and indeed not one of the party was totally without alarm, lest the violence of the wind should injure the ancient mansion.
One of the men who had been sent to Carnarvon in the morning on some commission, and whose road lay near the sea, returned about nine o'clock. The thunder and lightning had by that time abated, but the violent wind continued, attended by torrents of rain and excessive darkness. This man said he had seen a large ship near the coast, and evidently in great danger, from the beach on which she was driving being rocky and inaccessible, the tide coming in, and the wind blowing from the sea, which he said was rougher than he had ever seen it, and the ship laboured so much he feared she must be lost.
This account soon travelled from the servants'-hall to the parlour: the cheeks of the females were blanched by terror, and Mrs. Ross, clasping her hands together, exclaimed,
"He is far enough from hence, my dear," said the good Ross, "and in all probability quite out of the way of this tremendous weather."
"Perhaps so," said Mrs. Ross, "but I never hear the wind blow without thinking of him, and a sailor's life is so uncertain, one never knows where they are, or what they are exposed to."
While she spoke, they distinctly heard the sound of a gun fired at sea.
"Hark!" said St. Aubyn, "that is a signal gun! and again! another!--those are guns of distress: can we do nothing for these poor creatures?"
"Oh! try, pray try," said Ellen: "but without exposing yourselves to danger, it is, I fear, impossible."
"There will be no danger for us in going down to the shore," said St. Aubyn. "You and I, my young friend," (speaking to Griffiths) "with the men servants, and all the assistance we can collect in the village, will hasten thither: we can at least light some fires on the beach, or make signals of some kind or other, which may be of service; you, my dear Sir," (speaking to Powis) "and Mr. Ross, will stay and sooth the fears of the ladies."