LOOKING FOR THE MISSING ONES
“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.