The young volcano explorers

“Oh, Mark, the city is laid in ashes! Nobody escaped!”

It was Frank who uttered the words, after a French naval officer, who could speak English, had explained the situation.

“But some people must have gotten away,” insisted Mark, unwilling to believe the awful facts. “Remember how we found our boat, and how we saw those other boats further up the coast. They must have had warning enough.”

“But the fiery blast came so quickly,” went on the younger youth. “Those from the Roraima say it came in one gigantic swoop that swept everything before it. If that is so, and our fathers were in the city——”

“We must go ashore and make a search, Frank—that is, as soon as it is safe to do so. I wonder where the Vendee is?”

“There is no telling. If she was in the harbor perhaps she was burnt up like the Roraima and those other craft lying about,” answered Frank, dismally.

It was truly a trying time on board of the warship, where the cries of those suffering from burns could be plainly heard. The boys wanted to help, but were told there were plenty of doctors for that purpose. In the meantime Sven Orlaff had made himself at home among the sailors.

Two hours later found the lads on shore, in company with a searching party sent to bring in any persons who might be found alive. The landing was made in a small boat some distance south of the fallen city. There were two priests and several naval officers, and also half a dozen Frenchmen, and two Americans who had business interests in that locality.

It was with extreme difficulty that the boys picked their way along, over the trunks of fallen trees and over rocks which were still hot to the touch. Everything was blasted as if by a lightning stroke and covered with mud, lava and ashes. Nothing could be seen of the roadway, which was buried beneath stones, brick and other debris.

The boys had been told in their letters that their parents would stop at the Hotel Rosa, on the Rue de Victor Hugo, one of the principal streets of St. Pierre. One of the Americans in the party, John Waterbury by name, was bound for this street, and the boys plodded along beside him.

It took them two hours to gain the neighborhood, so great were the ruins on all sides. Dead bodies were everywhere in evidence, some buried under tons and tons of fallen stones and bricks. Even the great cathedral and the massive bank buildings had not escaped. At last John Waterbury came to a halt and heaved a deep sigh.

“As I thought,” he said. “Do you see yonder pile of smoking ruins? That was where our three-storied business building stood, with a stock of goods worth thirty thousand dollars. It is gone—every dollar of it—and my two partners and our four clerks have probably lost their lives also.”

“It is awful!” murmured Mark. He could scarcely speak. “Simply awful! And where was the—the Hotel Rosa?” he faltered.

“That building over yonder. I can tell it only by that twisted iron railing of the balcony. I have sat on that balcony many a time with my feet on the railing. It doesn’t seem to be destroyed as utterly as our building, but it is pretty well riddled.”

And riddled it was, from top to bottom, with the back and one side wall completely demolished. In the street the wreckage lay five or six feet deep, and over all was the mud and lava dust, still hot. The boys’ feet were uncomfortably warm and looking at their shoes they found that the soles were seared as by a hot iron.

There was no sign of life about the hotel. In one of the windows hung the half doubled up body of a man, burnt beyond all possible recognition. As the lads gazed at it a shiver passed over them impossible to suppress. Could that be—but no, it was too horrible—they would not believe it.

“Let us go!” whispered Frank, hoarsely. “I—I can’t stand it!” And he swayed as if about to faint.

Mark caught his chum by the arm, and both picked their way to where they had left John Waterbury. Nothing could be accomplished while the ruins were so hot, and the American business men accompanied them back to the shore below St. Pierre. Here they learned that the warship had sailed to another quarter of the island, but a relief boat named the Ridalla was at hand, and they were taken on board this craft and made to feel at home.

From those on board of the Ridalla, Mark and Frank learned that the Vendee had been spoken several hours before, and that the steamer was now heading back to Martinique. She had suffered, as we already know, but nothing had been lost but a number of ropes and a corner of the cabin, which were burnt away.

“I’m glad they are safe,” said Mark. “The Vendee might have suffered like the Roraima and those other ships.”

An hour later a lookout announced the appearance of the Vendee, and not long after this the steamer came into the harbor and dropped anchor. At once Mark and Frank begged to be taken on board and their wish was speedily granted.

“Mark! Frank!” The cry came from Darry, who chanced to be on deck, and the next moment the lad was fairly hugging the pair. “Well of all that is wonderful! We had given you both up as lost!”

“We’ve had a hard time of it,” answered Mark. “How did you make out?”

“Oh, we caught our share too, I can tell you that. The fire rained all over the ship and we had to fight it like mad for over an hour. The professor was overcome and Sam and I were afraid he was dead. But he got over it after a while, and now he is as well as ever. I suppose St. Pierre is a sight. But tell me how you escaped being drowned. But no, come into the cabin first and see the others.”

Darry led the way, and soon they ran into all the others of the party. There was another joyous greeting, in which even Hockley had the good sense to join. Then each party had to tell its story, to which the other listened with breathless attention.

“You were more than fortunate,” said Professor Strong, after Mark and Frank had finished. “Getting aboard that lumber raft, and later on the small boat, was certainly providential. And we were equally fortunate in being delayed by the breaking down of the engine. Had it not been for that the Vendee would surely be lying a wreck in St. Pierre harbor.”

Captain Danvier was glad to see the boys, and from them learned the particulars concerning the lumber vessel that had been struck.

“They will not prosecute me at law,” he said to Professor Strong, in French. “They knew the collision was as much their fault as mine.” And so it proved. Later on the Dutch owners of the lumber boat sent several threatening communications, and Captain Danvier answered in an equally threatening manner; and there the matter rested. It may be as well to add that Sven Orlaff never went back to the lumber boat, but enlisted instead in the service of a packet line running from the West Indies to Brazil.

Word soon came for Captain Danvier to take his vessel to Fort de France, and he sailed to that port with our friends on board. Sam and Darry had wanted to go ashore to inspect the ruins but Hockley had objected strongly.

“I don’t want to run any more risks,” said the tall youth. “I want to get just as far away from that volcano as possible.”

They found Fort de France a busy place. It was fast filling up with refugees from all parts of Martinique, and many public buildings had been thrown open for the accommodation of the newcomers. More than this, relief was already pouring in from many places, including the United States, where the news of the terrible catastrophe had shocked the whole nation.

Professor Strong would have been willing to leave the West Indies without delay, but Frank and Mark stoutly objected to going before they had learned something concerning their fathers, and he did not care to sail without them.

“I’m going to make a systematic search,” said Mark to Frank, after several days had been spent in Fort de France. “It is possible that your father and mine came down here from St. Pierre.” And he and Frank did make a search which lasted forty-eight hours.

It was then that they ran across a Frenchman who was in the business of exporting dyewoods. The Frenchman had met Mr. Robertson and Mr. Newton twice, and transacted some business with both.

“They were up at St. Pierre three days before the great eruption,” said the dyewoods exporter, who could speak good English. “They told me that they were going to make a journey overland to Basse Pointe, on the north coast. Whether they started before St. Pierre fell, or whether they were caught on the way, I cannot tell.”

This conversation filled Mark and Frank with renewed hope that their parents might have escaped, and they talked the matter over with Professor Strong and Sam and Darry.

“Basse Pointe is a small town lying almost directly north of Mont Pelee,” said the professor. “It is just as close to the volcano as St. Pierre and has suffered a good deal, so they say, although not as much as the city.”

“But couldn’t we go up there in some kind of a boat, or overland?” questioned Mark, eagerly. “Perhaps my father and Frank’s are up there?”

The professor said he would make inquiries, and set about doing so without delay. He could find no boat running to Basse Pointe, but there was a native craft about to sail for St. Marie, a village about ten miles below the point they wished to gain.

“Then I’m going to St. Marie and travel overland to Basse Pointe,” said Mark, and Frank said the same.

“And I’ll go with you,” put in Sam.

“Ditto myself,” chimed in Darry. “I want to see something of this volcanic eruption before I leave Martinique.”

“Well, you fellows can go,” came from Hockley. “But you won’t budge me. If there comes another downpour of lava, rocks and mud you’ll all be killed.”

Darry was about to say something about a coward, when Mark stopped him. “We don’t want Hockley anyway,” he whispered. “And it is just as dangerous as he says.”

Another talk followed, and it was hard work for the boys to get Professor Strong to consent to the plan. But the professor was secretly as eager as any of them, for he knew that the scientific magazines would welcome an article from his pen describing the condition of this territory immediately after the great eruption.

“I cannot blame Mark and Frank for wanting to go,” he said. “But as to you, Samuel, and Dartworth——”

“Oh, you must consent!” interrupted Darry. “What are we journeying around for if not to see the sights? And this is such a sight as comes only once in a lifetime.” So it was settled; and that evening found the five on the ship bound for St. Marie. Hockley was left at a hotel in Fort de France to await their return.