Page:Weird Tales Volume 6 Number 6 (1925-12).djvu/82

A Tale of the Eruption of Mont Pelée

The General Frisbie of the Monticello Steamship Line had left Vallejo behind by about five minutes and was now ploughing her way through the green waters of San Pablo Bay, on her monotonous two hour run to San Francisco. Certain duties had obliged me to make this trip daily for three weeks and the everlasting sameness of the coast line as well as the businesslike air of all the passengers was getting on my nerves. After an unsuccessful attempt to get something out of my paper besides divorce scandals and politics, I made myself as comfortable as possible in the smoking room on the upper deck, prepared to glance at my watch exactly one hundred and fifteen times before finally beholding the tall white pile of the Ferry Building in San Francisco.

I had not scanned the face of my timepiece the tenth time, ere I was aware of the fact that a certain person sitting on the opposite side of the room was casting furtive glances at me. He was short and stocky, about forty-five years of age, with a countenance which I judged could only have obtained its extreme severity from a trip to the North Pole.

Any doubts as to his interest in me were dispelled when he arose, walked over, held out his hand to me and said, "My name is Adam Lawson, and I am a retired petty officer of the United States Navy."

"Very glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Lawson," said I, extending my hand and repeating the very odd and embarrassing cognomen which had been bestowed upon me by some thoughtless ancestor.

After the usual civilities required by polite society, Mr. Lawson seated himself beside me, and pointing to a small campaign bar which I always wear over the left pocket of my uniform blouse, began, "I take it from that bar, you have been to Haiti."

"Yes," I answered; "I was unfortunate enough to be involved in one of those countless petty broils so common in the Black Republic, and other than a stubborn and intermittent malaria, that is all I have to remind me of eighteen months of very distasteful duty."

"Do you know," continued Lawson, that whenever I see anything to recall my mind to Haiti, it reminds me of one of the most momentous occasions of my life?"

"We have an hour and three quarters," said I, "and something in your face, Mr. Lawson, leads me to believe that there is many a worthwhile yarn in your career. Out with it."

After cramming an unbelievable amount of tobacco into his long pipe and leaning back against the scat at perfect ease, he recounted the following remarkable story.

It was in August, 1902, to the best of my recollection, and I was a boatswain's mate aboard a certain American cruiser, the name of which, for a reason best known to myself, I shall not mention. She was taking