The young volcano explorers

To those on board of the Vendee the hours dragged along dismally. Neither Sam nor Darry knew what to do, and Professor Strong was equally perplexed. The only person who was not deeply affected was Hockley.

“It’s too bad,” he said to Sam. “But it couldn’t be helped, and we’ve got to make the best of it.”

“You have never known what it is to have a real chum, Glummy,” retorted Sam. “If you had one, and he was taken off as Frank and Mark have been, you wouldn’t talk in this fashion. It’s dreadful to think they have been drowned.”

“Well, crying about it won’t bring ’em back,” answered the tall youth, unfeelingly.

“No, it won’t, but—but I can’t get over it yet—and perhaps I’ll never get over it,” came from Sam, and then he turned away, unwilling to continue the conversation with one so thoroughly unsympathetic.

Professor Strong walked the deck constantly. His mind was on the missing boys and on their fathers, whom he expected to meet at St Pierre. What should he tell those parents when they met? He could well imagine their deep grief. And perhaps they would think it had been his fault that they had been washed overboard.

“I should have compelled them to remain in the cabin,” he groaned to himself. “Yes, that was my duty, in such a storm as that! I wish they were back—I’d give all I possess to bring them back!” And he continued his unsatisfactory walk back and forth, until even kind hearted Captain Danvier grew tired of seeing the movements.

“You must calm yourself, my dear professor,” he said, in French. “It is very sad, my heart goes out to you. I know what it is. And why not? My own brother was washed from the deck in a storm and never seen afterward. And I had to be captain just the same and bring my vessel to the end of her trip. It was awful! Yes, I know how to feel for you,” and he clapped a friendly hand on Professor Strong’s shoulder.

The air was murky and hot, so much so that even Sam and Darry noticed it. They saw the cloud of smoke at a great distance, looking at it through a marine glass the captain loaned them.

“The cloud is hanging over the northern end of the island of Martinique,” said the professor. “There must be some sort of a forest fire raging there.”

Soon somebody on deck reported that his eyes were filled with dust. Half a dozen passengers and sailors were affected, and the dust became so thick that it covered everything and made it look gray. This was a most unusual occurrence and the professor was appealed to for an explanation.

“This appears to be pumice,” he said, after an examination with a microscope. “And if it is, it is most likely of volcanic origin. Pumice is very light—so light that it will float on the water—which this is doing. It is formed, so scientists say, by the gas coming out of lava while the latter is in a melted state.”

“But where does it come from?” questioned Darry, who could not help but be interested. “Is there any active volcano around here?”

“This pumice is so light that a fair wind will carry it for many miles, Dartworth.”

“The wind is blowing up from the south-east,” put in Sam. “Do you suppose it came from Martinique? That big black cloud looks suspicious to me.”

“Perhaps Mont Pelee has become active again!” cried Darry. “It certainly looks so.” And he pointed to the cloud, which looked blacker than ever.

“That is not impossible,” said the professor. “You remember I told you that that volcano had been active many times in the past. But I doubt if the eruption will amount to anything. The volcano is considered to be about burnt out.”

“Yes, it is no longer dangerous,” put in Captain Danvier, speaking in French. “I myself was to the top with an excursion party but two months ago. There was a beautiful lake there and no sign of fire. An outbreak there would amount to but little.” And then he told how he had often discussed the volcano with his friends at St. Pierre and Fort de France and how all had agreed that the volcano’s activity was of the past,—that is, so far as its capabilities for doing much damage was concerned.

The dust proved so disagreeable that the professor and the boys remained in the cabin the greater part of the time. It was now noticed by the sailors that the sea was running in a strange manner and that the flying spray was unusually warm. A bucket of water was hauled up for examination and all were astonished to learn how hot it was.

“Perhaps there has been an under-water eruption,” said Professor Strong. “But that would not account for this thick dust. It is a most remarkable occurrence.” He was so interested that for the moment his grief was forgotten.

They had been approaching the island from the north, and now they turned due southward, to run down the coast to the harbor of St. Pierre. Land was still but a speck in the distance when the darkness of night closed in on the steamer.

“When shall we get to St. Pierre?” asked Sam.

“We be dare by daylight,” answered Captain Danvier. “Dat ees, if ze dust don’t hold us back,” and he smiled, as if he was not very much afraid.

Hardly had darkness settled down when the Vendee came to a sudden stop and began to drift. Inquiries brought forth the information that the engine had broken down, a portion of it having been badly jarred when the steamer collided with the Dutch lumber craft. There was no danger, and the chief engineer said he would be able to repair the damage long before daybreak.

“This will make little difference to us,” said Professor Strong to the boys. “We will get into St. Pierre harbor early in the morning and that will do just as well as at night.” He spoke thus, little dreaming of how much that delay meant to all on board.

When the sun arose the Vendee was still at rest on the bosom of the sea. But repairs were going forward rapidly, and by half-past seven the engine was once more in good running order and the steamer resumed her course toward Martinique, which was now plainly visible in the distance.

The volcanic dust had cleared away to a great degree and over toward Mont Pelee, which arose majestically before them, only a small black cloud hovered.

“There is the smoking mountain,” said the professor. “It doesn’t look very alarming.”

The Vendee was not making over six knots an hour, the engineer deeming it best not to strain the engine too greatly, so as they passed along the coast they could see the shipping of the island and the various industries. At one point they beheld a large smoking ruin close to the water’s edge.

“That was a sugar factory—the Guerin,” said the captain, in French. “It has been burnt down. And see, the houses around it have been burnt down too.”

“The whole district is burnt down!” cried Professor Strong. “There has been a serious calamity of some sort here. It looks to me as if the volcano had become active. See the wreckage drifting along the beach.”

“We shall soon know,” answered the commander of the steamer.

He turned to give some orders to his mate, leaving the boys and the professor standing at the rail. Scarcely had he disappeared when a fearful explosion in the distance burst upon the ears of all on board. The noise was so great that it almost stunned them.

“Oh, what’s that?” cried Sam.

“Look! look!” yelled Darry. “The volcano!”

“The volcano! The volcano!” came the cry from all over the steamer. No one could say more than that, for there was not time, nor was there need. One look in the direction of Mont Pelee was enough to stagger the stoutest heart.

The whole top of the mountain seemed to have gone up like a discharge from a gigantic cannon. There was a vast cloud of blackness sweeping and rolling in every direction, a blackness lit up by patches of fire of various colors. The cloud came on and on, growing larger and larger, until it hid the sun and made all as dark as night. The fire was everywhere, filling the air like rain.

The captain of the Vendee was calling to the wheelman to turn the steamer about when a mighty wave struck the craft, sending her staggering to starboard. The boys held on like grim death, Hockley shrieking in his terror. Then the vessel righted herself, only to be heeled over again, worse than before.

And now that cloud, or the extreme edge of it, reached them and a noxious gas made them gasp for breath. There was dust, mud and red-hot stones in that cloud, and they fell everywhere on the deck of the steamer as she turned to escape what looked like certain destruction. Some of the fire landed on the boys and the professor, and in a twinkling their clothes were aflame.

“Help! help!” roared Hockley. “I am burning up!” And then he made a dash for the cabin, slapping out the fire as he ran. The others came after him, putting out the flames as best they could.

All was confusion on board, the passengers running hither and thither, not knowing what to do. “The volcano is bursting!” was the cry. “We are doomed! The sea will open and swallow us!” Some fell upon their knees praying, others ran to the captain imploring him to run away from the land, while one nervous and highly excited old man leaped into the sea, to be seen no more.

The sea was now foaming and boiling on all sides of the ship. The hot stones as they fell sent up a loud hissing and some of them cracked open with pistol-like reports. The superheated mud was of a sticky nature and where it fell it dried fast like so much plaster.

In a few minutes the black cloud lifted somewhat, but the patches of fire came down as thickly as ever. The Vendee was set on fire in a score of places, the masts and tarry ropes flaming up like so many torches. She had now been turned about and was running for the open sea at the top speed of her engine.

“The ship is on fire! The ship is on fire!” Such was the cry taken up a minute later, when it was seen that the craft had righted and was running steadily on her new course. “We must put out the flames! Form a bucket brigade!” And this was done, while the captain ordered the hose brought into use.

His first surprise over, Professor Strong grew calm, and at once set to work to do all in his power to assist in saving the Vendee. He found a bucket, filled it with water and started to put out the fire that had taken hold of a corner of the rear deck house. Without delay Sam and Darry joined him. Hockley remained in the cabin, wringing his hands in despair, afraid to remain alone and equally afraid to go outside, where the patches of fire still filled the air.

“Boys, you had better keep under shelter,” panted Professor Strong, as he worked away vigorously, not only with the water bucket but also with a wet swab he had discovered. “This is highly dangerous, and——”

“No more so for us than for you,” interrupted Sam. “It’s our duty to do all we can.”

“Creation! but this is awful!” panted Darry, as he too began to fight the flames with another bucket.

“Wet your jackets—I have wet my coat,” said the professor. “And be careful of your eyes. I think we are getting out of the zone of fire,” he added, as he cast an anxious eye shoreward, where Mont Pelee was still belching forth death and destruction.

The two boys did as advised, and soon the three were working like Trojans, along with some other passengers and a number of the steamer’s crew. The Vendee was now quivering from stem to stern under her full head of steam, for the engineer had been told of what had occurred and given to understand that they must either get away or go down in that awful holocaust behind them.

Darry and Sam had just procured fresh buckets of water and were doing their best to put out a patch of fire in a coil of ropes when they heard a groan from Professor Strong, who, bucket in hand, was staggering around clutching the air. Some hot volcanic dust had taken the professor full in the face, cutting off his breath.

“The professor is overcome!” cried Darry and threw down his bucket on the instant. Sam did the same, and both leaped forward just in time to save the man from falling. The next moment Professor Strong hung limply in their arms, his eyes closed. Not a sound came from him, nor did he appear to be breathing.

“He’s dead!” muttered Sam, hoarsely. “Oh, Darry, this is the worst yet!”