He saw a silent black squall which had eaten up already one-third of the sky.

You know how these squalls come up there about that time of the year.

First you see a darkening of the horizon--no more; then a cloud rises opaque like a wall.

A straight edge of vapour lined with sickly whitish gleams flies up from the southwest, swallowing the stars in whole constellations; its shadow flies over the waters, and confounds sea and sky into one abyss of obscurity.

And all is still.
No thunder, no wind, no sound; not a flicker of lightning.