The young volcano explorers

Mark’s cry aroused Frank and the Norwegian sailor, and both looked eagerly in the direction pointed out.

“I see something,” said Frank, after a searching look. “But if it is a ship or a small island I cannot tell.”

“Da ship!” cried Sven Orlaff. “Da ship sure!”

“Do you mean your ship?” queried Mark.

“I no can say ’bout dat. Look lak my ship, but no sure.”

For several minutes they watched the vessel in silence. Would it come toward them?

“Let us raise a signal of distress,” said Frank. “Here, I’ll put my shirt up on the end of a board.” And this was done without delay.

“We mak big smoke—dat be verra goot,” suggested Sven Orlaff, and began to kindle a blaze where the former fire had been. Over this he placed some wet bits of board which soon produced so much smoke that it nearly choked them.

“They ought to see that,” said Frank.

“You must remember that this raft is much smaller than the ship, Frank,” answered Mark, who was afraid of raising false hopes. “When we go down into a hollow of the sea we are completely out of their sight.”

An anxious quarter of an hour went by, during which the ship seemed to come a little nearer.

“I believe she will come to us,” said Mark, at last.

Both of the boys looked anxiously at the Norwegian sailor, feeling that he had more experience in such affairs than themselves.

Sven Orlaff shook his head sadly.

“Da ship go ’round—no will come here,” he said.

“It won’t!” gasped Mark and Frank in a breath.

And again the sailor shook his head. The lads gazed eagerly, with eyes almost starting from their sockets. Sven Orlaff was right—the distant object was slowly but surely fading from their vision.

The despair of the boys was now greater than ever, and for some time neither could trust himself to speak.

“It looks as if we were doomed,” said Frank, at last, in a choking voice.

Mark did not answer. There seemed really nothing to say.

The sun had come out strong and hot, and it was not long before all began to feel thirsty once more. A little water remained in the hollow between the lumber and this they drank up, fearful that it would otherwise evaporate.

Night came on slowly and now they ate another portion of the fish. It seemed unusually dry and they choked it down with an effort.

“It’s queer,” observed Frank. “This fish tastes to me as if it was covered with fine dirt.”

“It must be our mouths,” replied Mark. “Mine feels full of grit, as if I had been licking a piece of emery paper.”

They looked at Sven Orlaff, and found him rubbing his eyes. He seemed to be trying to get something out of them.

“My eye, he got da dust in,” said the sailor. “I no lak dat. Where da dust he come from annahow?” and he rubbed his eyes again.

“Why, the air is full of dust!” came from Frank, as he gazed upward. “Who ever heard of such a thing, so far out at sea!”

“We must be near land,” said Mark. “Dust couldn’t come from anywhere else. But I can’t see any land.” And he took another look around—this time with difficulty, for the dust appeared to grow thicker.

When the sun went down it was in a curious haze, which the Norwegian sailor said was new to him. “Nefer see da sun lak dat,” he said. “He look lak behine big smok.” And the boys agreed with him.

“It seems to me it is growing warmer,” came from Mark, as the darkness settled around them. “I feel—what was that, a gun?”

A deep booming had reached their ears, coming from a great distance. They listened and presently the sound was repeated, rolling away like distant thunder.

“Is that a thunder storm?” questioned Frank of the sailor.

“I t’ink no sturm. I t’ink dat be da breakers. But no can see him.”

They looked around for the breakers, or for some sign of reefs, but darkness was now settled upon every side. The booming continued at long intervals, but they concluded that it must be miles away.

“I never heard of anything like it,” came from Mark. “First the dust and now this noise. It’s certainly strange.”

“The raft is moving swifter, too,” returned Frank. “I’ve noticed it for some time. There must be some sort of a current here.”

Their attention was now directed to this new discovery, and soon they noticed that the raft was certainly moving in a direction south-east by south, to use the nautical term. And it was going at the rate of twenty or thirty miles an hour!

“The whole ocean looks different here,” said Mark, “What do you make of it?” he asked of Sven Orlaff.

The Norwegian could not explain. He said the water had an appearance which he had never seen. On the surface was a sort of scum which, on being examined, proved to be, in part, of the dust they had previously noticed.

“Put your hand into the water,” cried Frank. “It is surely warmer!”

They did so. Frank was right, the water was at least ten degrees hotter than it had been. Not only this, it was growing hotter each minute, until it got so they could scarcely put their hands into it.

“We are in for it now,” muttered Mark. “I don’t know what can be the matter, but something is surely wrong.”

As if to add to the peril of the situation the raft now began to spin around and sank several feet, as if about to go down. All clutched each other, but soon the spinning ceased and the lumber moved onward as before, sending the flying spray in all directions. They had to cling fast with all their strength, for fear of being hurled off.

“If we were on a river I should say we were rushing for some cataract,” said Mark. And then he added: “Don’t you remember, Frank, how we went over that falls on the Orinoco?”

“I’ll never forget it,” answered Frank, with a shudder. “But, unless I am mistaken, this is going to prove a ten times worse adventure. That came to an end in short order—there is no telling where this will wind up.”

Night had now settled down fully. There was no moon, and if the stars were shining they were obscured by the strange dust, which now came down as thickly as ever. They had to keep their eyes closed for the greater part and breathed only with difficulty.

“If only we would strike land of some sort,” sighed Frank. “Even a few rocks with trees would be better than this boundless deep.”

“I suppose the professor and Sam and Darry have given us up for lost,” observed Mark.

“Perhaps the steamer went down, Mark. She must have been rammed fearfully by that heavy lumber vessel. A single stick of timber is a big battering-ram in itself.”

They questioned the Norwegian sailor, but he could not tell how seriously the steamer had been injured. “Da water come ofer me,” he said. “I mak big fight—no t’ink of da ships. I catch da lumber and hol’ fast. Den da ships go away and no can see dem t’rough da sturm.”

It was a night long to be remembered. The hours wore away slowly. Each took a nap in turn, while the other two remained on guard. Sound sleeping was out of the question, for there was no telling what would happen next. If the truth be told, the anxiety of the two boys was heartrending. They would have given all they possessed, or ever hoped to possess, to have been upon terra firma once more.

But all times must have an end, and gradually a light in the East proclaimed the coming of another day. The sky was still murky, but not with the dust of the day before. Heavy clouds, not unlike thick smoke, hung over the southern horizon, and these gradually mounted higher and higher until the light of the rising sun was again obscured. The raft was moving on still, but more slowly. The water was just as hot as ever.

“Do you see anything?” questioned Frank, as Mark got up on the highest point of the lumber to look around.

“I think I do,” was the slow answer. “Orlaff, look here.”

The Norwegian sailor readily complied, and Frank joined the pair.

“Dare is somet’ing,” said the sailor, slowly, pointing with his arm. “I t’ink he is a boat—yes, t’ree, four boats. And back in da cloud is a mountain.”

“It must be land!” cried Mark. “Oh, I hope it is!”

“But what is that big cloud?” questioned Frank.

“Some sort of fire, I guess,” returned Mark. “See! see! the boats are coming this way! Oh, Frank! we are saved!”

“I see more boats, Mark! Five, six, eight, ten,—there must be at least twenty of them. The natives must be going out to fish.”

Wild with delight at the approach of the boats, they yelled at the top of their lungs and waved coats and the shirt frantically. Even Sven Orlaff joined in the demonstration, yelling in a voice that sounded as if it was coming through a megaphone.

“They see us!” cried Mark, after another painful pause. “See, they are heading this way!”

“Look! look!” screamed Mark, pointing beyond the boats. “What a fearfully black cloud! And it is rolling this way! And listen to the thunder? Frank, that cloud is rolling from the mountain, and I think I can see the flashes of lightning.”

It was all very strange to them, and they stared in open-mouthed wonder at the phenomenon. What it could mean they could not surmise. Then the raft began to whirl around and around, throwing them down in a heap, while the air became so murky and full of gas they could scarcely breathe. They clutched the lumber and the chains and held fast, and for the time being the boats in the distance were forgotten.