In Macao | Page 8

strong gale had suddenly sprung up from the
south east and rain was falling in torrents; the wind continued to
increase though the rain passed by, but in the distance appeared a dark
tower of water slowly moving toward Macao, rushing with bending,
changing outline from water to sky. The gale became fiercer and the
tumult on deck increased. Immediately from Taipa came the sound of
cannon and it was answered by Macao with her heaviest ordnance as if
a battle were raging, and, indeed it was a terrible battle, one between
man and the elements, but man was victor and the water spout was
broken. The force of the tornado however had yet to reach its climax
and for fully five minutes swept over the terrified city and bay with
fearful power. Sampans and junks were hurled like egg-shells upon the
shore, where but for the low tide, thousands instead of hundreds of
lives would have been sacrificed. The men-of-war and the river
steamboats did good service, for the course of the tornado, was so
restricted that though but a hundred yards from its limit of violence
they were untouched. Dom Pedro's junk with others was torn from its
moorings and overturned, but not before Adams and Priscilla had
jumped from the deck. Even in the awful confusion and the terror of the
first plunge which carried them below the surface of the angry waves,

she kept her hand clasped upon the empty sleeve of her recovered
protector. Being both good swimmers they assisted each other with that
knowledge of the water and the trust which all coast born people have
in the mother sea. A boat from one of the war vessels picked them up
and in a short time they were both beneath the roof of good Dom
d'Amaral, and rumor with unusual tread, but suited to Macao, slowly
announced the fact of Priscilla's return.
Dom Pedro weak, and with a broken arm, was also carried to the house
of his father and none but the principal actors in the tragedy understood
the mystery.
Priscilla had returned in the midst of the tornado, and that was all. The
unfortunate young woman was completely prostrated by the terrible
experiences through which she had lately passed and lay as if lifeless.
The physicians dreaded an attack of fever would follow, and their worst
fears were realized. Several weeks went by in anxious watching by the
sick woman's bedside when at last the fever turned and she gradually
grew better. Nothing was said of the occurrences which had brought the
illness about, and Priscilla remembered nothing of them apparently, for
she asked for no one and seemed happy and content to be left with her
Chinese ama. When she had recovered strength enough to be carried
into the court-yard it was with joyful expectancy that Adams went to
greet her, yet his heart sank with sorrow when he saw the marks of the
great suffering in her face and a terrible desire for revenge seized him,
which became the dominant passion of his life.
The saddest part of this tale may be given in a few words. Priscilla
Harvey never regained her reason, though she found pleasure in all the
beauties of nature and her life was happy during the two years before
her death. Dom Pedro went to Hong Kong and soon disappeared.
Robert Adams remained in Macao taking charge of the d'Amaral
foreign business. He was the daily companion of the unfortunate
Priscilla in all her walks and it was but a year after her death, when I
visited my uncle Robert in Macao, when the tragic event occurred
which is narrated at the beginning of this history.
My uncle is near my own age and we are more like brothers and have

been together, since the death of Dom Pedro at Camoen's Grotto. The
Courts of Macao exonerated Adams and though the good Dom
d'Amaral would willingly have had him remain in the house at Macao it
was not pleasant to think, that, even justified as he was, he had killed
the only son of his host.
It was early in the morning when we left the drowsy city; the sun had
just touched the windows of Sam Januarius, and as the river boat
dropped into the stream, the church of Our Lady of Guia received its
morning salutation. The period had come to this story of love and loss,
and the book closed.
Perhaps it is just as well not to work, or play, or read except in "the
library of the grasshoppers" as do my own good, sleeping friends in
Macao.

My Sapphire Ring.
Where have I seen the sapphire rimmed with gold? When on the dark
blue Carribbean sea, Floating at sunset, dreaming lazily, I