VESUVIUS RAMPANT
It was Saturday night, the seventh day of April, nineteen hundred and
six--a night never to be forgotten by those aboard the ship; a night
which has its place in history.
At dinner the captain announced that he had dropped anchor at the
Immacollatella Nuova, but at a safe distance from the shore, and that no
passengers would be landed under any circumstances until the fall of
ashes ceased and he could put his people ashore in a proper manner.
A spirit of unrest fell upon them all. Big Tom Horton whispered to Beth
that he did not intend to leave her side until all danger was over. The
deck was deserted, all the passengers crowding into the smoking room and
saloons to escape the lava dust.
Few kept their rooms or ventured to sleep. At intervals a loud
detonation from the volcano shook the air, and the mystery and awe of
the enveloping gloom were so palpable as almost to be felt.
Toward midnight the wind changed, driving the cloud of ashes to the
southward and sufficiently clearing the atmosphere to allow the angry
glow of the crater to be distinctly seen. Now it shot a pillar of fire
thousands of feet straight into the heavens; then it would darken and
roll skyward great clouds that were illumined by the showers of sparks
accompanying them.
The windows of every cabin facing the volcano were filled with eager
faces, and in the smoking room Uncle John clasped Beth around the waist
with one arm and Patsy with the other and watched the wonderful
exhibition through the window with a grave and anxious face. Tom Horton
had taken a position at one side of them and the dark Italian at the
other. The latter assured Patsy they were in no danger whatever. Tom
secretly hoped they were, and laid brave plans for rescuing Beth or
perishing at her side. Louise chose to lie in her berth and await
events with calm resignation. If they escaped she would not look haggard
and hollow-eyed when morning came. If a catastrophy was pending she
would have no power to prevent it.
It was four o'clock on Sunday morning when Vesuvius finally reached the
climax of her travail. With a deep groan of anguish the mountain burst
asunder, and from its side rolled a great stream of molten lava that
slowly spread down the slope, consuming trees, vineyards and dwellings
in its path and overwhelming the fated city of Bosco-Trecase.
Our friends marked the course of destruction by watching the thread of
fire slowly wander down the mountain slope. They did not know of the
desolation it was causing, but the sight was terrible enough to inspire
awe in every breast.
The volcano was easier after that final outburst, but the black clouds
formed thicker than ever, and soon obscured the sky again.