Roddy crawls on all fours, gripping the earth as one
would grip a blanket, inching his bulk forward, pushing
against what seems like the strength of twenty men. He
curses under his breath, wishing he could say the word
and all at once still the storm, but Roddy realizes there is
no way out. He now fears for both of their lives. As he
closes in to Tarah he calls out to her, “don’t move—
Daddy is coming to get you.” A few more feet and he has
reached the bushy branches of the schrub.
He orders Tarah to hold on to him while he firmly
grips the young lady around her waist.
Tarah instantly obeys her father. She feels more secure
as Mr. Bane’s towering form acts as a human shield, and
together they retrace their tracks back along the lawn,
pausing at times on all fours as the cruel winds wipes
around them. All the time Tarah is thinking about the
power of the wind as she witnessed first hand a number
of fruit trees completely uprooted. She also saw portions
of the neighbour’s home flying in the
storm like kites. At last they reach the house where Tarah
sees her mother waiting anxiously, her hand holding her
jaws like one who has a terrible toothache.
It’s all right,” purrs Mrs. Bane looking over her
rescued daughter.
“Mother,” Tarah says. “I never know wind could be so
strong.” She gazes fearfully over her shoulder at the
dramatic view of a hurricane in full force.
“I never knew,” says her mother, glaring at Tarah,
“that you could be so irresponsible to try something like
that.”
“All I wanted was to record some action,” confesses
Tarah, “so we could watch it later.” Meanwhile the storm
is unrelenting like a monstrous octopus, its tentacles
lashing the villa with a barrage of powerful gusts.
Hardly a minute has passed since the child’s return to
safety, when Mr. Bane realizes the roof of the house will
not hold. “All you,” he says “lets go under there,”
pointing to an open space beneath the counter in the
kitchen, as the gusts outside seem to intensify.
“Quick!” he shouts. Sheila-Anne and Tarah huddle
beneath it clutching each other, followed by Mr. Bane as
what sounds like a huge wave envelopes the area
spewing large chunks of the stonewall, almost enclosing
the three of them in a dark tomb.
For the next few hours the family is utterly quiet. Only
the horrifying screech of the wind can be heard, that
echoes in their very bones. Finally the wind subsides and
the sun shines with a brilliance as if nothing disastrous
had taken place. It’s brilliant midday rays revealing total
devastation.
Roddy Bane, meanwhile is pushing against a slab of
the stone wall that has enclosed him and his family under
the counter where they had weathered the storm.
Finally succeeding, he climbs out, then helps Tarah,
then Sheila-Anne. “Well,” he sighs, “I’ll never doubt
another weatherman again. They knew what they were
talking about this time.” Roddy took his wife in his arms,
kissing her gently on the cheek.
“Hey, you two,” says Tarah, “I want to experience
another. This is fun but just a little rough, don’t you
think,” she added rubbing her chin.
“You and your adventurous mind,” teased Mr. Bane.
“one of these days you will understand the real
adventure.”
“You mean I’ll be on televsion reporting live from
Dominica for CBS!”
Amid the ruins of their home they all break out in tears
of joy to be saved from the worst of the storm.
“I’m not sure about that,” replies Mr. Bane, “but you
nearly became a missing actor in a revised “Gone with
the Wind”.
“I guess that’s what they call riding the storm,” says
Sheila-Anne as she draws Roddy and Tarah towards her,
pressing them to her breast.
The end
ALBERT WILLIAMS Reporting 
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