Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad

  CHAPTER V

  VESUVIUS RAMPANT

  It was Saturday night, the seventh day of April, nineteen hundred andsix--a night never to be forgotten by those aboard the ship; a nightwhich has its place in history.

  At dinner the captain announced that he had dropped anchor at theImmacollatella Nuova, but at a safe distance from the shore, and that nopassengers would be landed under any circumstances until the fall ofashes 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 Beththat he did not intend to leave her side until all danger was over. Thedeck was deserted, all the passengers crowding into the smoking room andsaloons to escape the lava dust.

  Few kept their rooms or ventured to sleep. At intervals a louddetonation from the volcano shook the air, and the mystery and awe ofthe enveloping gloom were so palpable as almost to be felt.

  Toward midnight the wind changed, driving the cloud of ashes to thesouthward and sufficiently clearing the atmosphere to allow the angryglow of the crater to be distinctly seen. Now it shot a pillar of firethousands of feet straight into the heavens; then it would darken androll skyward great clouds that were illumined by the showers of sparksaccompanying them.

  The windows of every cabin facing the volcano were filled with eagerfaces, and in the smoking room Uncle John clasped Beth around the waistwith one arm and Patsy with the other and watched the wonderfulexhibition through the window with a grave and anxious face. Tom Hortonhad taken a position at one side of them and the dark Italian at theother. The latter assured Patsy they were in no danger whatever. Tomsecretly hoped they were, and laid brave plans for rescuing Beth orperishing at her side. Louise chose to lie in her berth and awaitevents with calm resignation. If they escaped she would not look haggardand hollow-eyed when morning came. If a catastrophy was pending shewould have no power to prevent it.

  It was four o'clock on Sunday morning when Vesuvius finally reached theclimax of her travail. With a deep groan of anguish the mountain burstasunder, and from its side rolled a great stream of molten lava thatslowly spread down the slope, consuming trees, vineyards and dwellingsin its path and overwhelming the fated city of Bosco-Trecase.

  Our friends marked the course of destruction by watching the thread offire slowly wander down the mountain slope. They did not know of thedesolation it was causing, but the sight was terrible enough to inspireawe in every breast.

  The volcano was easier after that final outburst, but the black cloudsformed thicker than ever, and soon obscured the sky again.