It took Oliver Lane some time to pass from a sound sleep gradually
through half-waking dreams to the full knowledge of his position, and
then, albeit somewhat cramped and stiff, feeling rested and bright, he
lay back listening to the calls and answers of the birds, and watching
them with a true naturalist's intense delight. For there he was in the
very position he had longed to reach, right amongst nature's gems in
their own abode, full of life and vigour. He had seen these birds
before, but as attractively-plumaged dry specimens. Here they were
hanging, crawling, and climbing about, busy, with every feather in
motion, their eyes bright, and beaks and claws all abloom with colour.
Now their feathers were tightly pressed to their softly-curved bodies,
now standing almost on end, giving the birds a round, plump aspect that
was delightful when the sun gleamed through, and flashed from the golden
green, bright scarlet, or vivid blue, with which they had been painted
by nature's loving hand. Others were entirely of a beautiful green, all
save their heads, which glowed with a peach bloom, while, again, others
bore the same leafy uniform, and, for decoration, a dark collar, and
long, pencil-like-produced feathers in their tails.
There was the gun close at hand. Lane had but to take it from beneath
the creeper which held it fast; but, at this time, it never occurred to
him that he might secure two or three splendid specimens for the
collection he sought to make, so occupied was he by the action of the
flock in the tree.
It was all delightful to him to watch the soft, easy, deliberate way in
which the paroquets climbed with beak and claw, hooking on with the
former, and then raising one foot with its soft, clasping, yoke-toes to
take a firm hold before bringing up the other; then, holding on by both,
and swinging gently to and fro, the beak was set at liberty, and the
bird hung head downwards, to feast upon some luscious fig.
"If they only had a sweet note, instead of their harsh scream," thought
Lane, "what lovely creatures they would be."
He sat there watching them for about an hour, but far from satiated, for
there was always something fresh to see, and the birds were so tame,
that he often had them within a few feet of his head, some soft,
round-headed creature turning itself on one side to gaze at him with its
keen eye as if in wonder, before going on with its feeding, satisfied
that it would not be hurt.
Then the delightful scene came to an end with the climbing birds and the
foliage lit up by the horizontal rays of the sun, for, all at once,
there was a deafening explosion, and, shrieking loudly, the flock took
flight, while Lane sat there appalled, listening in expectation of
another report, the former having evidently come from the mountain; but,
as he listened, there was in place of the explosion, a loud hissing, and
then a loud, heavy pattering, accompanied and followed by thud after
thud, and he knew, though he could not see for the dense foliage, that a
volley of heavy stones and masses of pumice had been fired into the air,
to fall from various heights back to earth on the mountain slopes.
"Ah, I must go and see that," he said to himself, as he seized his gun.
"Not my department, but none the less interesting. I wish Panton was
here."
A soft, whining noise took his attention then, and, glancing beside him,
he saw that the cubs which had been his companions all night were
straining about, climbing over each other, and falling back, evidently
wanting their morning meal.
"And I suppose I have killed their mother," thought Lane, as he bent
over and patted the two furry animals. "Poor little things! I must
come back and get them, and take them with me to the ship, if I can
cross the belt of mist. First of all, though, the mountain--I must go
up that as far as I can climb."
So, descending and shouldering his piece, he strode to where the ashes
of his fire lay and then brought his gun down to the present, for there
was a quick, rustling sound to his left, and he caught a glimpse of
glossy, spotted fur, as an animal passed amongst the dense undergrowth.
Then, before he had time to fire, had he felt so disposed, a huge,
lithe, cat-like creature bounded on to the trunk of the tree he had just
left, uttering a strange, purring cry, and disappeared in the orchids
which clustered about the fork.
"Then I did not shoot the mother," thought Lane. "So much the better."
Then, as all was still and no danger to be apprehended there, he
shouldered his gun and strode off towards the more open ground, which he
reached at last, forgetful of everything but the intense desire to try
and ascend the cone-shaped mountain which stood before him, capped with
a dense pall of smoke and steam.
After tramping about an hour, the sight of trickling water down amongst
some stones suggested to him the fact that he had not broken his fast
that morning, so sitting down upon a block of stone, he brought out the
remains left in his wallet and ate them, stale as they were, as he
looked round him, finding that he had climbed to higher ground than he
expected; but though he looked eagerly toward the part where the ship
must have lain in the middle of the wave-swept plain, everything was cut
off by a dull, misty appearance. Not the clearly marked band of sunny
haze he had seen from low down on the level therewith, but a foggy,
indistinct state of the atmosphere.
Away to his right, he feasted his eyes upon the enormous mass of stone
and ash which towered up in a beautifully regular curve, with apparently
nothing to hinder him from walking up the steep slope to the crater,
into which he felt an uncontrollable desire to gaze.
"I ought to get up to the top in two or three hours," he thought, as he
mentally mapped out his course, seeing nothing likely to hinder him but
rough blocks of stone dotted about in all directions. Nothing in
themselves, but ominous of aspect when he took into consideration the
fact that they must have been hurled upward from the mountain, and
fallen back on the slope in all probability white-hot.
"One will have warning," he thought, "and there may be no more fall
to-day."
Finishing his last mouthful, he took out an india-rubber cup, and
stooping down, filled it from the trickling course, raised it to his
lips, and then spurted out a mouthful in disgust, for it was hot,
bitter, salt, and had a most objectionable odour.
"Ugh!" he ejaculated, "mustn't depend on you." Then giving another
glance round, he shouldered his gun, and commenced the ascent, leaving
all vegetation behind him, and soon finding that his way lay over loose
scoria and finely-powdered pumice, into which his feet sank at every
step.
But as the difficulties and steepness of the ascent increased, so did
the desire to climb higher and see more of the volcano, and also more of
the country into which fate had brought him. Once a few hundred feet
higher, he felt he would be able to set all doubts at rest as to whether
they were surrounded by the sea; and to get this proof Oliver Lane
pressed on.
After a time he got more into the knack of climbing without slipping
back so much, but the sun was getting higher, and its beams grew warm,
while he was conscious of a sensation as of heat striking upward from
the ashy substance of which the slope was composed, and at last, to
gratify his curiosity, and to clear away a doubt, Lane stooped down to
lay his hand flat upon the ash, and snatch it away again, for it was
quite hot.
For a moment or two after this, he hesitated, but there above him rose
the cone with its crest of smoke, and apparently nothing to hinder him
from climbing steadily to the top, and from thence getting a bird's-eye
view of the country round.
That was enough to start him on, and setting himself manfully to the
task, in less than half an hour he found that he had reached an
atmospheric band where the breeze blew pleasantly cool and invigorating.
The cloud over the summit of the cone had floated away, and all was
clear and bright as he resumed the ascent, feeling now that an hour
would bring him to the top, when all at once he fell upon his knees, and
then threw himself at full length. For the mountain quivered beneath
his feet, and produced a giddy sensation as the surface rose and fell in
waves, whilst almost simultaneously there was a terrific roar, and he
saw a dense cloud driven out from above, and ascending to a tremendous
height, as if shot out by an internal explosion.
His first feeling was, that he must turn and rush down: his second, that
it would be madness to stir, for the side of the mountain was opening
and shutting in a network of fissures, and the next minute, the cloud
which he had seen blasted upwards proved itself not to be so much mist,
but a storm of ashes and scoria mingled with huge masses of rock, which
now curled over like a fountain, and were falling back in all
directions.
Oliver Lane tried to anchor himself to the shifting ashes as he lay
there, feeling that his last hour had come, for darkness was now added
to the other horrors, and the mountain-side was in strange quivering
motion, gaze wildly whichever way he would.
The fall of a mass of glowing cinders, so close that he could feel the
scorching heat against his cheek, roused Oliver Lane to the fact that it
was more dangerous to stay than to rush down-hill, running the gauntlet
of the falling shower; and, after a moment's hesitation, he turned and
ran for his life. The white-hot stones and cinders fell around him as
he bounded down, having hard work to keep his footing, for at every leap
the loose scoria gave way as he alighted, and slipped with him in an
avalanche of dust and ashes from which he had to extricate himself.
Once he had pretty well dragged himself out when the ashes for far
enough round began to glide downward, the thick haze of volcanic dust
around adding to his confusion, while every step he took in his frantic
efforts to keep on the surface resulted in his sinking more deeply till
he was above his waist in the loose gliding stuff and awake to the fact
that it was scorchingly hot.
But all at once, as despair was beginning to enfold him in a tighter
hold than the ash and cinder, the gliding avalanche suddenly stopped,
and as it was not like the Alpine snow ready to adhere and be compressed
into ice, he was able to extricate himself and slide and roll down for
some distance further.
Then all at once he found that he was in the sunshine again, and that
the stones had ceased to fall and the mountain to quiver; while, as he
gazed upward, it was to see that the dark cloud was slowly floating
away, giving him a view of the edge of the crater where it was broken
down for some distance in the shape of a rugged V, and just at the
bottom, every now and then, there was a bright glow of fire visible.
The glow then sank completely out of sight, but only to rise up again,
and this was continued as the young naturalist watched, suggesting to
him the fact that the crater must be full of boiling lava which rose to
the edge in its ebullitions and then dropped below the rugged wall.
Ten minutes later the glowing stones which had fallen, looked black and
grey; the cloud was at a distance, and there was nothing to indicate
that the beautifully shaped mountain ever presented another aspect than
that of peace.
Oliver Lane stood looking up with the longing to ascend to the edge of
the crater growing strong once more, but he was fagged by his exertions,
bathed in perspiration, and aware of the fact that an intense glowing
heat rose from the surface all around him, while the air he breathed
seemed to produce a strange suffocating effect when he turned his face
from the wind which swept over the mountain slope.
In a few minutes he decided that it would be madness to persevere, and
that it would be wise to wait until the volcano was in a more quiescent
state, for at any minute there might come a fresh explosion from the
mouth from which he might not be able to escape so easily.
He looked longingly round to try and make out something of value to
report as to their position, but the mountain shut everything off in the
direction lying north, and he was reluctantly about to continue his
descent when he felt the stones beneath his feet tremble again. Then
came a report like that of a huge cannon, and what seemed to be an
enormous rock shot upward for hundreds of feet, hung for a moment or two
in the clear air, and then fell back into the crater.
That was enough. A burning thirst and a sensation of breathing
something which irritated his lungs, awakened him to the fact that he
must find water, and, regardless of the heat, he once more began to
hurry downward toward the level plain from which the mountain curved up
in so beautiful a cone.
Oliver Lane soon found that he was not returning upon his steps, and
though apparently not far from where he ascended, it was plain enough
that, even if they had not been obliterated by the falling ash and
cinders, the fragments flowed together again like sand. A greater proof
still was afforded him in the fact that about a quarter of a mile lower
down his farther progress was checked by a rugged chasm running right
across his path, apparently cutting him off from the lower portion and
extending to right and left farther than he could see.
He approached it with caution, but found that he must not risk a near
approach, for he set the loose scoria in motion, and it trickled on
before him, and went over out of sight with a rush.
Anchoring himself as well as he could against a huge block of lava, he
paused to consider whether he should go to right or left, and then
shrank away with a shudder, and began to climb back as fast he could,
for, slight as had been his bearing upon the block, it had been
sufficient to start it off, and, to his horror, it went on gliding down
about twenty yards, and then dropped over the edge.
He stood listening, in the hope of hearing the block stop directly, as
proof of its being only a few feet down, and passable if he lowered
himself and then climbed the opposite edge; but a full minute elapsed
before he heard a dull, echoing roar, which continued for some time,
and, after a pause, was continued again and again, giving terrible
warning of the depth, and his own insignificance upon that mountain
slope.
He now had his first suggestion of panic--of how easily, in the face of
so much peril, anyone could lose his head, and rush into danger, instead
of escaping the risks by which he was surrounded. For his strong
impulse now was to start into a run, and to begin to ascend the slope
diagonally. But at the first dozen steps, he found he was loosening the
ashes, which began to glide toward the chasm faster and faster, and that
if he continued with so much energy, there would soon be a swift rush,
which would carry him with it into the awful gulf.
Warned by this, he stopped, and then proceeded cautiously, going nearly
parallel, but increasing his distance as far as was possible.
The intense heat of the sun combined with that which radiated from the
mountain-side was exhausting to a degree; his thirst grew almost
unbearable, and he fully realised the imprudence of which he had been
guilty in attempting the ascent alone. The only thing now was to
extricate himself from his perilous position, and, after a halt or two
to collect himself and try to make out how much farther the rift
extended, during which he hesitated as to whether it would not be wiser
to go back and try the other way, he started onward again, slowly and
steadily, becoming conscious of a peculiar puff of stifling vapour,
which he felt sure must come from the gaping rift below.
And now the idea came to him that it was impossible that the chasm could
have been there when he ascended, but had opened during the fresh
eruption in which he had so nearly been overwhelmed.
At last, when his sufferings from the heat were growing unbearable, and
his head swam with the giddy sensation which supervened, the rift
appeared to close in about fifty yards further on. He sheltered his
swimming eyes, and endeavoured to steady himself, as, with sinking
heart, he tried to make out whether this really were so, or only fancy.
But it seemed to be fact, and, pressing cautiously on, he lessened the
distance, and then stopped appalled, shrinkingly facing a way of escape
to the lower part of the mountain, but one terrible enough to make the
stoutest-hearted shiver. For the chasm came to a sudden end, and
recommenced two or three yards farther on, leaving a jagged, narrow
strip of lava extending bridge-like from side to side.
"I dare not," he muttered, as he approached slowly, noting the shape,
and trying to make out how far down the mass of rock extended, so as to
see whether it would prove firm, or only be a crust which might give way
beneath his weight, and then--He shuddered, for he knew that whoever
ventured upon that narrow pathway did so facing a terrible death.
He looked wildly forward to see if the gap still went on to any
distance, and he could trace it till it was lost in a hot haze.
"I must do it," muttered Lane, for he felt that if he kept on longer
upon the upper edge, he must soon sink and perish from heat and
exhaustion.
Knowing that if he stopped to think, he would grow less and less
disposed to venture, and taking one long eager look at the green trees
far below in the distance where there would be shelter and refreshing
water, he gathered himself together, and walked slowly and steadily over
the yielding ash and cinders to the beginning of the bridge.