warn them of their danger, but they saw it themselves.
Another flash showed him four men clinging to the shattered
mast and the rigging, while a fifth clung to the broken
rudder.

The men he beheld saw him undoubtedly, for their cries were
carried to his ears by the wind. Above the splintered mast a
sail rent to tatters was waving; suddenly the ropes that
still held it gave way, and it disappeared in the darkness
of the night like a vast sea-bird. At the same moment a
violent crash was heard, and cries of distress. Dantes from
his rocky perch saw the shattered vessel, and among the
fragments the floating forms of the hapless sailors. Then
all was dark again.

Dantes ran down the rocks at the risk of being himself
dashed to pieces; he listened, he groped about, but he heard
and saw nothing -- the cries had ceased, and the tempest
continued to rage. By degrees the wind abated, vast gray
clouds rolled towards the west, and the blue firmament
appeared studded with bright stars. Soon a red streak became
visible in the horizon, the waves whitened, a light played
over them, and gilded their foaming crests with gold. It was
day.

Dantes stood mute and motionless before this majestic
spectacle, as if he now beheld it for the first time; and
indeed since his captivity in the Chateau d'If he had
forgotten that such scenes were ever to be witnessed. He
turned towards the fortress, and looked at both sea and