Notes on Life & Letters - Joseph Conrad

happened. There was a faint concussion of the ground under our feet, a groaning
of piles, a snapping of great iron bolts, and with a sound of ripping and
splintering, as when a tree is blown down by the wind, a great strong piece of
wood, a baulk of squared timber, was displaced several feet as if by
enchantment. I looked at my companion in amazement. “I could not have
believed it,” I declared. “No,” he said. “You would not have thought she would
have cracked an egg—eh?”