Page:Weird Tales Volume 6 Number 6 (1925-12).djvu/83

coal at Mole St. Nicholas on the western coast of Haiti, and we were hurrying up the job because she was slated to steam for Dry Tortugas the next morning.

The sun was just setting and I was congratulating myself on the good rest in store for me that night, when I observed the captain, surrounded by a group of officers on the bridge, talking and gesticulating excitedly. My first thought was that another Haitian president had been crucified, but presently the bugler sounded general assembly, and as all hands rushed above, I noticed that the captain held a cablegram in his hand.

We were under way in twenty minutes. Every boiler was in use, and on leaving the bay we headed at full steam southward toward the Island of Navassa, a bleak and barren rock that marks the westernmost point of Haiti. None of the enlisted men had any idea where we were going, and many a wild and fantastic guess was hazarded in the fire room that night as to our probable destination. Some said we were bound for Vera Cruz, others that we were hurrying around the Horn to protect the Pacific coast from the Japanese.

The second morning found the cruiser wallowing twenty miles off the Island of Martinique in the French West Indies, and the secret had leaked out. The volcano on Mont Pelée had erupted, destroying the city of St. Pierre, and we had been rushed to the assistance of the inhabitants.

My friend, I could never describe the inferno that lay off our port bow; but I will say this much—a great pall of gray smoke overhung the stricken island, a cloud so dense that land could not be seen. Fiery red streaks of forked lightning leaped and split through that gray mass. Peals of thunder, like the distant roar of artillery, were borne to us over the water. Huge waves smashed against the ship and broke boiling over the poop-deck. Such was the immensity of the tidal wave that had accompanied the catastrophe, that dead fish and other dwellers of the deep were carried on to our decks on every crest. Even at this great distance a light ash or cinder sifted through our masts and covered the ship like frost.

For two days we cruised up and down that terrible coast, our minds dismal with thoughts of what destruction lay behind that ominous pall of smoke and dust. We did not dare approach closer until it cleared up, because deadly gases were undoubtedly present, gases that would burn the tender tissue of our lungs to a cinder such as that which overspread our decks.

The third morning disclosed a coffin of heavy rough lumber lying on the quarterdeck, and all hands were filled with wonderment. The pall had now dropped low over the city, and the top of Pelée was visible. We were, at this time, five miles off the coast, and the thunders and lightnings had ceased.

I was not a little surprized when the marine orderly notified me that the captain wished to see me in his cabin immediately.

He was pacing up and down excitedly when I entered, and without returning my salute, announced:

"Lawson. I have an errand for you. You will take my gig and eight seamen (you may pick your own men), land at St. Pierre with the coffin above on the quarterdeck, and procure the body of the American consul. From the bridge I shall observe the crater of the volcano for signs of further eruption. If there are any, three blasts from the ship's siren will be your signal to return. Stephen Young, a Jamaican messboy, who spent most of his life in the city, will act as your guide to the consulate. Be ready to leave in half an