Fanfic.
The servants of Beckett House took shelter in the kitchen. Being positioned at the rear of the house, its row of windows suffered at the mercy of blunted wind. Though being on the backside of the storm offered little relief; the shutters had been nailed shut with stout crosspieces and still they rattled and slammed and clattered together like frozen teeth.
Beyond them, the hurricane vented its spleen upon Port Royal.
Mr. Stephens and Mrs. Fletcher sat together at a sideboard, lukewarm cups of tea clutched in their hands. They sipped and looked around. The kitchen was crammed full of people and overwrought with sweat and stink, filled with the wavering light of five lanterns, sniffling with undisguised fear. Maids sat with their backs to the wall and linked their hands together. A pair of stable hands murmured the Rosary. The butler and the valet engaged diligently over a game of chess. A cook’s boy curled up beneath a tabletop, arms wrapped over his head. He was twelve years old and his name was William and he’d just come in from England the previous spring. One of the maids reached out every so often and touched his foot, laid a hand on his ankle, offering comfort in the midst of this strange weather-torn hot place and tethering him to the febrile quality of his fear and each shrieking moment.
“Quite a howler,” said Mr. Stephens.
“I should say! In all my years in the Caribbean I’ve not encountered a storm so sudden, nor so devastating in nature or swift as this one,” said Mrs. Fletcher. “Why, there was no proper warning!”
“Aye, and it wasn’t likely.” Mr. Stephens sipped his tea. “We’ve been due a storm of this magnitude for some time now. Twenty year agone such a storm heralded my arrival here. Devastation, you say? Why, this is nothing. Scoured the island clean, that one did. Not a building left a-standin’.”
“Heaven forbid this should be the same!”
“Aye. I suspect m’chickens shall fetch up somewheres in New Spain.”
“This is not a time for jokes, Mr. Stephens.”
“I suspect not. Just the same, I’m hoping the next bunch’ll be less afeard of falling coconuts.”
"There won't be any left on the trees anyhow!"