Up Vesuvius
On a certain day towards the end of March, Miss Morley, who usually
acted as cicerone and general guide, arranged to take a select little
party up Vesuvius. Irene, Lorna, Peachy, and Delia were among the
favored few, and congratulated themselves exceedingly. It is certainly
not an every-day occurrence for schoolgirls to view a volcano, and this
particular excursion, being long and difficult, was kept as a special
treat, and was regarded as the titbit of the various expeditions from
the Villa Camellia. Many of the girls had, of course, made it on former
occasions, but to those whom Miss Morley was escorting to-day it was all
new.
"I was to have gone last autumn," confided Peachy, "but the fact is I
got into a little fix with Miss Rodgers, and she started on the rampage
and canceled my exeat. I cried till I was simply a sopping sponge, but
she was a perfect crab that day. Lorna, weren't you to have gone too
once before?"
"Yes, and got toothache. Just like my luck. There the others were
starting off, and I was sitting by the stove with a swollen face,
dabbing on belladonna, and Miss Rodgers careering round telling me I
must have it out. Ugh! My ailments always turn up when I'm going
anywhere."
"Well, you're all right to-day at any rate," consoled Delia, rather
unsympathetically.
"If I don't get seasick on the boat."
"Oh, buck up! You mustn't. We'll throw you overboard to the fishes if
you do anything so silly. For goodness' sake don't any one start
symptoms and spoil the fun. Where's Miss Morley? I'm just aching to be
off."
The party left Fossato by the early morning steamer and went straight
to Naples. They drove from the quay to the station, then took the little
local train for Vesuvius. Italian railways generally provide scant
accommodation for the number of passengers, so there ensued a wild
scramble for seats, and it was only by the help of the conductor, whom
she had judiciously tipped, that Miss Morley managed to keep her flock
together, and settle them in one of the small saloon carriages. Here
they were wedged pretty tightly among native Italians, and tourists of
various nations, including some voluble Swedes and a company of dapper
Japanese gentlemen, who were seeing Europe. After much pushing,
crowding, shouting, and gesticulation on the part of both the public and
officials, the train at last started and pursued its jolting and jerky
way. It ran first through the poorer district of Naples, where
dilapidated houses, whose faded walls showed traces of former gay pink,
blue, or yellow color-wash, stood in the midst of vegetable gardens;
then, the slums left behind, the line passed a long way among vineyards
and orchards of almond, peach, and cherry that were just bursting into
glorious lacy blossom. The railway banks were gay with the flowers which
March scatters in Southern Italy, red poppies, orange marigolds, lupins,
campanulas, purple snapdragons, and wild mignonette, growing anywhere
among stones and rocks, with the luxuriance that in northern countries
is reserved for June.
At Torre Annunziata the party from the Villa Camellia all crowded to the
carriage window, for Miss Morley had something to point out to them.
"We're passing over the lava formed by the great eruption in 1906. The
whole of the railway line and ever so many houses were buried then.
Don't you see bits of them peeping out over there?"
"Why, yes, it looks like cinders," commented Lorna.
"They're great masses of crumbling lava turning into soil. Wait till we
get farther on, then you'll see lava more in its raw stage. Very soon we
shall be passing over the top of Herculaneum. The ancient city lies
buried thirty feet below the surface."
"Aren't they ever going to excavate it like they did Pompeii?"
"The trouble is that the modern town of Pugliano is built over the top,
and naturally the owners don't want their houses pulled down, whatever
treasures in the way of Greek or Roman antiquities may lie buried
underneath. Isn't the view of the Bay of Naples beautiful from here?"
"Yes, and the flowers. It's like fairyland."
At Pugliano the party left the train, and after a long and tiresome wait
at the station changed to the light electric railway that was to take
them up Vesuvius. The little carriage resembled a tramcar, and its wide
glass windows afforded excellent views of the scenery _en route_.
Up--up--up they went, gradually getting higher and higher. It was
marvelous how the vegetation altered as they ascended. The cactuses,
olives, almonds, and peach orchards gave way to hillsides covered with
small chestnut, oak, or poplar trees, and the poppies and daisies were
succeeded by broom bushes and clumps of rosemary. They were getting on
to the region of the lava, and all the ground was brown, like newly
turned peat. Men were busy digging terraces in the volcanic earth, to
plant vines, working calmly as if the great cone above them had never
belched forth fire and ashes.
"How _dare_ they live here?" shuddered Peachy, pointing to the tiny
dwellings which had been reared here and there. "When they see all the
ruin round them, aren't they afraid? What makes them go back?"
"The ground is so rich," explained Miss Morley. "Nothing grows vines so
splendidly as volcanic earth. The people get fatalistic, and think it
worth risking their lives to have these fruitful little farms. They say
the mountain may not be angry again for years, and they will take their
chance."
"It's smoking now," said Lorna.
"I suppose it's safe?" asked Delia anxiously.
"Perfectly safe to-day or we shouldn't have been allowed to go up in the
electric railway. Do you see that big building--the observatory? Careful
investigations are made every day of the crater, and the results
telegraphed down to Naples. If there were the slightest hint of danger
the trains would be stopped and tourists turned back."
The journey was ever upwards, over great wastes of rough brown lava,
which looked as if some giant, in play, had squeezed out the contents of
enormous tubes of oil paint on to the mighty palette of the mountain
side. The air had grown fresh and cold, for they were at an altitude
approaching 4000 feet, and, but for the scenery, might have imagined
themselves in Wales or Scotland.
The light railway ended at a small station, where there was the
observatory and a hotel. All round were masses of enormous cinders, and
above, a grim sight, towered the immense cone of Vesuvius. To scale the
tremendous incline to the summit there was a funicular railway, to which
our party now transferred themselves, sitting on seats raised one above
another as in the gallery of a theater. It was here that, if the events
of the day are to be truly chronicled, we must record a scrimmage
between Irene and her chum, Peachy. The conductor of the light railway
had gathered a bunch of rosemary _en route_, and he now approached the
funicular and bestowed his offering upon Peachy, who happened to be
sitting nearest to the end. She was immensely gratified at the
attention, sniffed the fragrant nosegay, and handed it on for admiration
to Lorna, who, after also burying her nose in it, passed it to Irene.
The latter ought to have realized it was not her own property, but
unfortunately didn't. She calmly appropriated the bunch, and distributed
it in portions to those nearest her. Peachy's cheeks flamed. She was a
hot-tempered little soul underneath her gay banter.
"Well! Of all cool cheek," she exploded. "That was _my_ bouquet. It was
given to _me_, not to you, Renie Beverley. Next time you start being
charitable use your own flowers, not mine. You haven't left me a single
piece."
"I'm sorry," blushed Irene, trying to collect some portion at least of
her offerings to hand back to the lawful owner. "I thought they were
given to me."
"No, you didn't, you simply bagged them," snapped Peachy. "I'm not
friends with you, so don't talk to me any more," and Peachy turned a red
offended face out of the carriage window.
Irene might have apologized further, but the funicular gave a mighty
jerk at that moment, and the carriage started. Up--up went the little
train, working on wire ropes like a bucket coming out of a well. Higher
and higher and higher it rose up the terrific incline, over masses of
cinders, towards the thick cloud of smoke that loomed above. It stopped
at last at a big iron gate, which opened to admit the passengers on to
the summit. Here the guides were waiting, and after some parleying in
Italian, Miss Morley engaged a couple of them to escort her party. Led
by these men, who knew every inch of the way, they started to walk to
the crater of the volcano. A cinder path had been made along the edge of
the cone, having on the left side a steep ridge of ashes, and on the
right a sheer drop of many thousand feet. From this strange road there
were weird and beautiful effects--for it was above the region of the
clouds, which floated below, sometimes hiding the landscape, and
sometimes revealing glorious stretches of country, with gleams of
sunshine falling on the white houses of towns miles below, and blue
reaches of sea with mountains beyond. Great volumes of smoke kept coming
down from the summit, and blowing in a dense cloud, then clearing for a
few minutes and forming again. There were booming sounds like the firing
of cannons that seemed to issue from the smoke.
Very much awed by these impressive surroundings the party kept close
together. The guides, in their gray uniforms and caps with red bands,
were a comforting feature of the excursion. But for their encouragement
the girls would have been too much scared to proceed. Delia was clinging
to Peachy, and Lorna held Irene's arm tightly. Miss Morley, who had been
before, kept assuring everybody that there was no danger, and after a
few minutes they grew sufficiently accustomed to the scene to thoroughly
enjoy the magnificent effects of the clouds circling below them. But the
guides were calling "Haste," for the mist was clearing, and it would be
possible to get a view of the crater. They all scurried along the path,
and suddenly to the left, instead of the high ridge of cinders, they
could look down into a deep rocky ravine. From this hollow vapors were
rising as from a witch's cauldron, but every now and then the wind
dispersed them as if lifting a veil, revealing a glimpse of the crater.
At the bottom of the ravine stood a great cone, from the mouth of which
poured dense clouds of smoke, and between the smoke could be seen fire,
as if the interior of the cone were a red-hot furnace. Sometimes the
vapors were shadowy as gray phantoms, sometimes glowing red with the
reflection of the fire within, and as they whirled round the dim ravine
loud explosions broke the silence. The view was as fleeting and
evanescent as a landscape in a dream; one minute there would be nothing
but a bank of mist and deadly stillness, the next a vision of fire and
sounds that rent the mountain air.
"It's like looking into the bottomless pit," shivered Delia.
"Oh, but it's magnificent!" gasped Peachy.
"I'd no idea it would be so grand as this," said Irene. "I wouldn't
have missed it for worlds."
"Come along, girls. The guides can take us farther," said Miss Morley.
"Don't be frightened, for it's perfectly safe, and they won't let us go
into any danger."
So they went some way along the mountain and turned down a side path
towards the crater. It was difficult walking, for they were all among
lava and sliding cinders, but the guides kept close by them, and helped
them over difficult places. When they had descended perhaps a hundred
feet or so, the ground became percolated with steam, jets of it poured
from holes among the rocks, and the cinders upon which they stood felt
warm to their boots. The guides brought the party to a halt upon a ledge
of volcanic rock, from below which ran a sheer slide of hot cinders into
the ravine. From here there was a splendid near view of the cone, its
top yellow with sulphur, and at its base a lake of molten lava. One of
the guides, a venturesome fellow, climbed down by another path and
fetched lumps of sulphur as souvenirs for the girls, and the other guide
pressed upon them pieces of lava into which, while hot, he had inserted
coins, so that they had set into the mass when cool. They were naturally
immensely delighted with these mementoes, and put them in their pockets,
quite unsuspecting of the sequel that was to ensue.
It was a fearful scramble back up the steep path over the sliding
cinders. The guides held out a stick or a hand to help at awkward
corners, and being young and active the party managed to scale the side
of the ravine and regain the summit of the mountain without any
accidents, though Delia confessed afterwards that she had fully expected
to tumble backwards and roll into the lava, a fear which Miss Morley
pooh-poohed entirely.
"There was no danger unless you fainted, and the guides were close at
your elbow the whole time," she declared.
The smiling officials in the gray uniforms and red-banded caps had
indeed seemed the good geniuses of the excursion, but alack! they
exhibited a different aspect when they had conducted their party back to
the entrance of the funicular railway. Not satisfied with the payment
which the government tariff allowed them to charge, they demanded from
each of the visitors exorbitant tips in consideration of the little
lumps of sulphur and lava which they had given them from the crater. The
girls, who had supposed these to be presents, were most indignant.
"Five francs for a scrap of sulphur!"
"And we'd just called him such a kind man!"
"Let him keep his wretched souvenirs!"
"No, no! I want mine!"
"It's too bad!"
"I want my money to buy post-cards!"
"It's absolute blackmail!"
The guides, no longer smiling and obliging, but clamoring loudly for
extra money, were finally settled with by Miss Morley, who knew the
customs of the country, and was aware that they would be quite content
with less than half of what they had asked.
"It's always the way in Naples," she said philosophically, as she
thankfully bundled her flock into the funicular. "You can't get along
anywhere without tipping. The government may try its best to arrange
fixed prices, but every one who goes sightseeing must be prepared to
part with a good deal in the way of small change. The guides are not
such brigands as they used to be, thank goodness. Thirty or forty years
ago I suppose it was hopeless to come unless you brought a courier with
you from Naples to keep the others off. Well, you have your little
souvenirs of Vesuvius at any rate, even if they've turned out rather
expensive ones. They're something to keep, aren't they?"
"I wouldn't have given up mine if they'd asked me twenty dollars for
it," declared Peachy, fondling the nickel coin set in the lump of lava.
"I don't understand the Neapolitans," frowned Irene. "One minute they're
so charming and persuasive and winning and gay, and the next they're
absolute bandits."
"They're a mixed race, with a good deal of the Spaniard in them,"
explained Miss Morley. "We must make certain allowances for their
southern temperaments and customs. They're very poor, and they look upon
American and British tourists as made of money, and therefore fair game
to be fleeced. The best plan is to take them quite calmly, and never
lose your temper however excited they may get. When you've lived here
for a time you learn how to treat them."
By this time they had reached the bottom of the funicular, and were back
in the little station near the observatory. A picturesque woman, with a
yellow shawl round her shoulders, and long gold earrings in her ears,
came hurrying up to sell post-cards, and offered to show the party the
quickest way into the hotel. As every one was very tired and hungry Miss
Morley succumbed to the voice of this siren, and permitted her to escort
them by what she assured them would be a short cut and would save many
steps. But alas for Italian veracity! Their suave and smiling guide led
them down a path at the back of the hotel to a shabby and dirty little
restaurant of her own, where she vehemently assured them she would
provide them with a far cheaper meal, an offer which, at the sight of
the crumby table-cloth, they resolutely refused.
"The old humbug! I'd no idea she was decoying us away from the hotel.
Really nobody can be trusted up here," fumed Miss Morley. "Come along,
girls. I told the conductor to reserve a table for us, and there won't
be time to have lunch before the train starts unless we're quick."
So they all hurried back again up the path--much to the chagrin of the
siren--and found their own way into the hotel, where seats had been kept
for them in the restaurant, and dishes of macaroni and vegetables and
cups of hot coffee were in readiness.
The great attraction to the girls was the fact that if they bought
post-cards at the hotel these could be stamped by the conductor of the
train with the Vesuvius postmark, and posted in a special pillar-box at
the station. The idea of sending cards to their friends actually from
the volcano itself was most fascinating, and they scribbled away till
the last available moment.
"I guess some homes in America will be startled when they see these,"
purred Peachy, addressing flaming representations of an eruption. "It
ought just to make Nell Condy's eyes pop out."
"I'm only afraid they won't believe we've really been," sighed Delia,
skeptically.
"They'll have to, with the Vesuvius postmark. The post-office can't tell
fibs at any rate. I call these cards a bit of luck. Be a sport,
somebody, and lend me an extra stamp. I'm cleared out, and haven't so
much as a nickel left."
"Hurry, girls, or we shan't get places in the train," urged Miss Morley,
sweeping her party from the hotel into the station, where other tourists
were beginning to crowd into the carriages.
The platform was a characteristic Italian scene; a blind man with a
guitar was singing gay Neapolitan songs in a beautiful tenor voice, a
woman with a lovely brown-eyed baby was calling oranges, an old man with
a red cap and a faded blue umbrella under his arm offered specimens of
hand-made lace, while a roguish-looking girl tried to sell cameos carved
in lava, throwing them on to the laps of the passengers as they sat in
the train. Irene, who was beginning to learn Italian methods of
purchase, commenced to bargain with her for a quaintly cut mascot,
reducing the price asked lira by lira till at length, when the conductor
blew his brass horn, she finally got it for exactly half of what was at
first demanded.
"And quite enough too," said Miss Morley, who had watched the business
with amusement. "She's probably more than satisfied, and will go dancing
home to her mother. Let me look, Irene? This funny little hunchback is
always considered the 'luck' of Vesuvius. I believe he's copied from a
model found in Pompeii. He's the true mascot of the mountain. Yes, he's
quite a pretty little curio and well worth having."
"I wish I'd had any money left to buy one with," sighed Peachy.
The train was speeding downhill now, leaving ashes and lava behind, and
heading for the bright bay where the sun was shining on the sea. Seen
from above against a gray background of olives and other trees not yet
in leaf, the blossoming peaches and apricots had a filmy fairy look most
beautiful to behold. Behind frowned the great volcano still belching out
clouds of smoke.
"I've a different impression of old Vesuvius now I've seen his heart,"
said Peachy, looking back for a last farewell view.
"He still seems full of mischief, but I'm glad he played no tricks while
we were up there," commented Delia.
"It's certainly one of the sights of the world, and I'm glad I've seen
it," said Lorna. "Yes, I don't mind telling you I was scared when these
explosions kept popping off. I thought it was going to erupt and give us
the benefit."
Irene, when they were back at the Villa Camellia, patched up her
squabble with Peachy, whom she had offended over the rosemary incident,
and pressed the Vesuvius mascot upon her as a peace offering.
"I didn't mean to grab your flowers," she assured her. "Really, honest
Injun, I didn't."
"Why, I'd forgotten all about it," declared her light-hearted chum. "I
didn't mind a bit after my 'first mad' cooled off. Sorry if I was a
bear. No, I won't take your lucky hunchback. _Must_ I? Well, you're a
dear! I'd adore to have it. I felt absolutely green when I saw you buy
it. I'll hang him on a chain and wear him round my neck, and I expect
I'll just be a whiz at tennis to-morrow. Oh, isn't he funny? Thanks
_ever_ so! I shall keep him eternally as a memory of this ripping day up
old Vesuvius."