The gale chanted a wild melody in mournful chords, and the noise of the watery downpour on the tarpaulin roof of Belle Vue Castle was such as to render conversation impossible, save in wearying shouts.
Luckily, Jenks's carpentry was effective, though rough.

The building was water-tight, and he had calked every crevice with unraveled rope until Iris's apartment was free from the tiniest draught.
The very fury of the external turmoil acted as a lullaby to the girl.
She was soon asleep, and the sailor was left to his thoughts.
Sleep he could not.

He smoked steadily, with a magnificent prodigality, for his small stock of tobacco was fast diminishing.

He ransacked his brains to discover some method of escape from this enchanted island, where fairies jostled with demons, and hours of utter happiness found their bane in moments of frightful peril.
Of course he ought to have killed those fellows who escaped.

Their sampan might have provided a last desperate expedient if other savages effected a landing.