CHAPTER VIII
THE BELCHING DEATH OF A VOLCANO
The whaler's story of the great Overland Expedition set Eric questioningabout the work of the Coast Guard with the reindeer. He learned that,partly as a result of his handling of the trip, the government hadselected Lieutenant Bertholf to make an exploration of northern Siberiafor the purpose of importing Tunguse reindeer, which were reported to bebigger and better fitted for Alaska than the Lapp reindeer. He found outhow over 200 head of the larger species had been successfully imported,and a couple of days later had a very vivid demonstration of the fact inseeing an Eskimo trot by, riding a Tunguse reindeer like a saddle horse.
The more the boy saw of the Eskimo, too, the more he learned to valuetheir race strength. It was true that they were dirty and that theirhouses smelt horribly. But, after all, Eric reasoned, it is a littlehard to keep the habit of baths in a country where, during six monthsin the year, a man would freeze solid in a bath like a fly in a piece ofamber. The Eskimo's indifference to smells, moreover, he learned tounderstand one day, quite suddenly. He was pacing up and down the deckwith the whaler a day or two before the _Bear_ reached Point Barrow.
"You're always worryin' over those smells," Joey had said to him."You've lived in a city, haven't you?"
"Nearly all my life," the boy replied.
"Have you ever been in a city what wasn't noisy with street cars, an'wagons, an' automobile horns, an' children playing, an' music-boxes an'pianos goin' an' all the rest of it?"
"It is noisy," Eric admitted, "but you soon get used to that."
"Hearin' is just one o' the five senses, ain't it?"
"Yes."
"An' smellin' is another?"
"Of course."
"Well, an Eskimo's nose gets to be like a city man's ear, one smells allthe time an' doesn't notice it, the other hears all the while an'doesn't care. You can't judge a people by its smell. An' when it comesto fair dealin', you won't find anywhere a squarer people to deal withthan the Eskimo. You're Commissioner, ain't you?"
"Yes," the boy answered.
"An' you haven't found much crime, have you, eh?"
"Mighty little," he admitted.
"It's the same every year. They're a fine race, the Eskimo. I'll tellyou just one little thing about 'em, that I don't think could be said ofany other native race in the whole world."
"What's that?" the boy asked.
"You know," the whaler said, "how natives go to pieces when civilizationhits 'em."
"Generally."
"What do you suppose is the reason?"
"Whisky and white men's ways," answered Eric promptly.
"Right, first shot," said the other. "Soon after Alaska was opened up,the Eskimo learned the excitin' effects of whisky. Fearin' trouble, astrict watch was kept on the sale of liquor to the natives, an' as itwas easy enough to find out where the whisky had come from an' no vesselcould escape from the Arctic without being known, tradin' spirits to theEskimo soon had to be given up.
SIGNALS THAT GUARDS OUR COAST.
Flags flying at Quogue Station, warning vessels far out to sea.]
"But, in order to increase business, the traders taught one old Eskimochief, named Ah-tung-owra, how to make whisky out of flour andmolasses."
"They made it themselves?"
"Yes."
"But where could they get stills? I should think it was as easy to catcha trader selling stills as selling whisky."
"They're home-made stills," the whaler explained. "There ain't much tothe apparatus. It is just a five-gallon coal-oil tin, an old gun-barrelan' a wooden tub. The liquor they make tastes like chain lightnin', andmakes up in strength what it hasn't got in flavor.
"But what I think wonderful is this. When the Coast Guard--it was theRevenue Cutter Service then--began its patrol of the Arctic, one of thefirst things it did was to show the Eskimo the result of their drunkenbouts. Takin' whisky to native tribes an' then teachin' 'em to let italone is the white man's long suit.
"But the main difference between the Eskimo an' the rest of 'em, is thatthese tribes listened. They asked a pile o' questions an' at last agreedthat the reasons given were good an' the habit was bad. Off their ownbat they broke up all the stills on the coast, an' months after theclean-up a native told me that he had told his friends inland whatBertholf had said, an' that all the stills there had been destroyed,too. There's liquor enough in the south, but by the Eskimo's ownchoosin' there isn't a blind tiger to-day between Cape Prince of Wales,Point Barrow and Mackenzie Bay."
In consequence of this self-control on the part of the natives, theyoung United States Commissioner found very little strain on hisjudicial powers. One of the things that did trouble him was the constantrequest of the natives to get married. The problem seemed so difficultthat he asked advice from the first lieutenant, who, many years before,had been Commissioner on a similar assignment to that of Eric.
"I don't like marrying these natives, sir," he said, "because, so far asI can make out, they haven't any idea of the legal end of it. I've beentalking to Ahyatlogok, a bridegroom, and he really doesn't intend to doanything more than try out the bride for a season, Eskimo fashion, tosee if he likes her. And if he doesn't and they both want to separate,if I've married them, they can't."
"Why not?"
"Ahyatlogok's not rich enough to take that long trip to Nome to get adivorce. It's a year's journey, nearly. And unless he does, next timethe _Bear_ comes up he'll be a criminal. And yet he'll have done justwhat his father did before him and nearly all his neighbors are doing."
"Mr. Swift," the senior officer answered, with a slight twinkle in hiseye, "do you tie a granny knot in a reef-point?"
"No, sir, never!" exclaimed Eric in surprise.
"Why not?"
"Because a granny knot jams, and a reef-point may have to be untied."
"There's your answer," said the first lieutenant, smiling as he turnedaway.
With these constant small matters and with all the excitements of histrip through the Arctic, Eric's summer passed rapidly. After havingtouched Point Barrow, the _Bear_ came south, landing supplies at CapeLisburne and returning to Nome. As certain repairs to the machinery wereneeded, and as her coal bunkers were growing empty, the _Bear_ headed tothe southward for Unalaska.
The cutter was within half a day's steaming of the port when the radiobegan to buzz and buzz loudly, answering the call of a vessel indistress off Chirikof Island. As the steamer was known to be carrying anumber of passengers, thus endangered, the _Bear_ did not stop atUnalaska, but putting on full speed, arrived off Cape SarichefLighthouse at 4 o'clock in the morning, proceeding through Unimak Passand Inside Passage. The naval radio station from Unalga Island confirmedthe report, but could give no further details.
Under full speed the _Bear_ reached the scene of the disaster the nextday. Of the vessel, _Oregon Queen_, not a sign could be seen, but, savefor three persons, all the crew and passengers were safe on ChirikofIsland. They were almost without food, however--many of theminsufficiently clad and utterly destitute. As the _Oregon Queen_ hadbeen bound for St. Paul, Kodiak Island, and a large number of thepassengers could depend upon assistance there, the _Bear_ picked themup, and the day following, despite extraordinary weather conditions,landed them at St. Paul. Little did the shipwrecked men realize thatthey had only escaped one danger to be imperilled by another.
"Homer," said Eric to his friend the following afternoon, as the _Bear_lay outside the barge _St. James_ at the wharf at St. Paul, "what do youmake of that cloud to the sou'west'ard?"
"Snow," was the terse reply.
"I don't," the boy objected. "It's a mighty queer-looking sort of cloud.It doesn't look a bit like anything I've ever seen before."
"There's lots of things you've never seen," was his friend's reply.
"That's one of them," the boy answered gravely, not at all in hisfriend's jovial vein. "But I don't think it's snow. There's somethingawfully queer about it. Gives me the shivers, somehow! It loo
ks toosolid for snow!"
Minutes passed. Little by little a curious feeling of unrest began tospread over the ship. The sailors stopped in their work to glance up atthe strange and menacing cloud. Its edges were black with an orangefringing, and as clean cut as though it were some gigantic plate beingmoved across the sky. In the distance there was a low rumble, as ofthunder.
The portent rose slowly. Almost an hour passed before the cloud washalf-way up the zenith. Shortly before two bells in the first dog watch,Eric, passing his hand along the rail, realized that it was coveredwith a fine coat of dust. This was not black, like coal dust, but alight gray.
"Say, Homer," he said, "that's ashes."
"Forest fire somewhere," said the other.
"No," said Eric, "it looks like pumice-stone."
"Volcanic, I'll bet," said the other, with a quickened interest. Hescooped up a pinch of the fine dust and looked at it. "It's volcanic,sure enough. There must be a big eruption somewhere!"
"I wish it were right handy near by," said Eric; "I've never seen aneruption."
"You talk as if they were as frequent as moving pictures," said theother. "But there's trouble somewhere, you can lay to that. And it's notfar off, either! See, there's another cloud coming up from the nor'ard!"
Steadily, and with a slowness that only increased its threateningaspect, the cloud to the northward joined the vast overhanging canopythat had been seen earlier in the day. By half-past six in the eveningit was black as the densest night, the murk only being lighted by theconstant flashes of lightning. The air was highly electrified and thewireless was made silent. During the evening the island was shaken bymany light earthquake shocks and several people from St. Paul came totake refuge on the _Bear_. At midnight a fine dust was falling steadily,but by six bells of the middle watch it had lessened and when the sunrose the next morning, he could be seen as a dull red ball. The air wasstill full of dust and ash, but the eruption was believed to be over.
Early in the morning scores of people came to the ship fordrinking-water, many of the streams and wells in the village having beenchoked. About five inches of ashes had fallen. The captain of the _Bear_started the evaporators going, to provide drinking-water for the folkashore.
Shortly before noon the ashes began to fall again, even more heavilythan before. When Eric came up from below after lunch, the air was sofull of a heavy gritty ash that it was impossible to see the length ofthe ship. The _Bear_ was evidently in a place of danger and there was nomeans of determining what was happening or what would happen.
"Do you suppose we'll strike out to sea?" queried Eric of his friend."We ought to, for safety, but I don't see how we can leave the placeunprotected."
"We'd never do that," replied the other. "Things don't work out thatway in the Coast Guard. You'll see. We'll stick here till the last gun'sfired."
It was a relief to Eric when at three o'clock that afternoon he wasordered to accompany a shore party. All hands had been on duty sinceseven that morning, and when Eric went ashore the sailors were keepingregular shifts with shovels, clearing the decks, while four streams ofwater from the fire mains were playing incessantly in an effort to clearthe ship of its horrible burden.
More than once, when the rain of volcanic debris grew especially heavy,the men fell behind, work as hard as they might. Herein lay real danger,for if the deck-load of ashes grew too heavy the _Bear_ might turnturtle. Then all hope of rescue would be lost.
The captain of the _Bear_ summoned a meeting of the principal citizens.He sent to the two saloons in the village and finding that they werecrowded, requested the proprietors to close. This they did withoutdemur, realizing that at a time of such peculiar danger, when no oneknew what had happened, what was happening, or where the next outbreakmight come, it was necessary for everybody to be on the alert.
Through the afternoon the darkness increased into a horrid gloom farworse than the darkest night. Men collided with each other working aboutthe decks, for the feeble glow of electric lights and lanterns wasdeadened by the yellowish compost so that they could not be seen fivefeet away. When nightfall came, no one knew, it had been scarcely lessdark at three o'clock in the afternoon than at midnight. All night longmen worked steadily in shifts, clearing away the ash. Ashore theconditions were equally terrifying and all night long the bell of theRussian Church boomed out in the blackness. There were few of itsfollowers who did not grope their way to the building at some timeduring that awful night.
Sunrise and the coming of daylight passed unseen and unnoticed. Onlychronometers and watches served to tell the change from night to day.The three pilots of the place were summoned to discuss the possibilityof getting the _Bear_ safely out to sea, with all the population of thevillage on board. As every landmark was obliterated, and as the ship'sbow could not be seen from the bridge, not one of the pilots wouldundertake to con the ship through the narrow channel.
Somewhere the sun was shining, but not a glint of light passed theimpenetrable veil overhead. Still the sailors worked steadily, shovelingoff the ash over the vessel's side, still the pumps worked, though nowthe water brought up from the harbor was like gruel and scarcely couldbe forced through the pipes. Every few minutes, from the hills aroundthe village, avalanches of ashes could be heard, the terrible clouds ofdebris flying over the town and adding to the choking smother.
Orders were given for all people to gather on the vessel or the wharf.By ten o'clock the last of the gray ash-covered ghosts was mustered in,185 people on the vessel, 149 in the warehouse on the wharf. Blinded byash, with throats so burned by the acrid fumes that even a hoarsewhisper was agony, with nostrils bleeding from constant effort to keepthem from being clogged with the fine dust, and with a stabbing pain inthe lungs with every breath one drew, the people were at the extremityof their endurance. The situation looked desperate both for theresidents and for the officers and crew of the Coast Guard cutter.
The officers of the _Bear_ worked incessantly. In the dark they werehere, there and everywhere, and Eric, filled with the spirit of theservice, was on the jump. He was busy in the storehouse shortly beforeeleven o'clock in the morning when a man groped his way in, saying thathe had just escaped an avalanche and that several men were marooned in asteamer lying off the cannery wharf half a mile below the dock. This wasEric's chance. So often had he made the trip from the ship to thestorehouse that morning that even in the dark and through the flyingspume of yellow horror he made his way direct to the first lieutenant,and saluted.
GOING TO PIECES FAST.
Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]
"WE SAVED 'EM ALL."
Coast Guard crew (including the dog) which rescued every sailor ofwrecked vessel's crew.
Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]
"Yes, Mr. Swift?"
"I have information, sir," he said, "that there are seven men cut offeither in a steamer near the cannery, or in the cannery itself, half amile below the pier. I am told there is neither food nor water in thebuilding and that it is at the base of a hill from which it may beoverwhelmed by an avalanche at any minute. I think, sir, that a partycould reach them."
The lieutenant nodded and sought the captain. He returned a few momentslater.
"There are high hills between the village and the cannery," he said,"and the road winds along the beach. We have absolutely no means ofknowing what the conditions may be. Under the circumstances the captaindoes not feel justified in ordering a party on what might prove to betheir death. But--"
"Yes, sir?"
"He directed me to say that neither would he feel justified in refusingpermission to those who desired to attempt a rescue. If there should bevolunteers, I have no doubt that you would be given the opportunity tolead the party."
Eric saluted, though in that dim strange dark he could scarcely see hissuperior's face, and withdrew. In spite of the unknown nature of theordeal not a man drew back. Eric chose his friend, Homer, two warrantofficers, three enlisted men, one local resident for a guide, and themaster
of the imperilled steamer.
The road was level, the distance only half a mile, but so great was thedanger of ash avalanches that every man was roped to the other--allcarried lanterns and there were several shovels.
"Hope we don't get buried under this stuff!" Eric whispered to Homer, asthey started out.
"I feel just about buried now," was the hoarse reply.
At the end of the score of houses that made the village street, theparty struck a deep drift of the volcanic ash. It took the guide to hiswaist and he stumbled and fell. The fine acrid pumice filled his mouthand his nostrils, and when Eric picked him up, he feared the man wouldstrangle to death. A mouthful of fresh air would have meant much to thesufferer, but there was nothing but the sulphur-laden atmosphere tobreathe. In a minute or two, however, choking and gasping, the guidecleared his nasal passages and throat of the burning dust. Blinded andstaggering, he recovered enough to be able to walk, but Eric took hisplace and led the way.
Warned by this accident, which had so nearly proved a fatality, the boyproceeded with extreme caution, digging a shovel before him every stepto make sure that the ashes did not hide some newly opened earthquakecrevice into which the party might fall. Under the slope of themountainous shores the swirling spume of gray-yellow dust was so denseand yet so light in weight that the men struggled in ashes to theirwaists, and it was hard to tell where earth ended and air began. It wasas though the earth had no surface. Unconsciously Eric found himselfusing the motions of swimming, in order to cleave his way through thesemi-solid dust.
Suddenly, as Eric prodded the ground before him, the shovel wentthrough with a jolt, almost precipitating the boy on his face. Had itnot been for the slowness and the care with which he was advancing, hemight have had the same fate as the guide. Lifting up the spade, whatwas his horror to find that it was wet!
With quick alarm Eric realized that the rescue party was in the utmostperil. They had wandered from the shore and were in very truth within afew inches of disaster. They were walking on the sea! The layer offloating ash, though several feet thick, was but a treacherous surfacewhich might break through at any moment and land them in the waterbelow. There, certain death awaited them, for they would smother anddrown under the hideous pall. With his heart in his throat Eric turnedsharply to the right, trusting only to a vague sense of direction. Ascore of steps brought him to a slight billowing of the ash, and with asigh of relief he knew he was on solid ground again.
The danger was little less upon the shore. Huge avalanches could beheard hurtling down the mountain-side and with each new slide the airbecame, if possible, more unbreathable than before. A new fear possessedthe lad. It might be that they would return alive to the ship, butmight not every member of the party be made helpless for life by theclogging of the lung-passages with dust?
Presently he felt a tug at the line which roped the members of the partytogether, and he stopped.
"What's the trouble?" he passed back word.
"Duncan's gone under, sir."
Eric made an uncomplimentary reference to Duncan under his breath, thenquestioned,
"Unconscious?"
Came back the answer,
"Yes, sir; completely collapsed."
The boy was puzzled what to do. He could detach two members of the partyto carry back the unconscious sailor, but that would reduce his strengthfrom eight men to five. He could not leave the man alone, for if he layon the ground for even ten minutes, he would be covered with volcanicash and could never be found again.
"The two men nearest on the line pick Duncan up and bring him along," heordered, and the party proceeded.
They had covered another hundred yards, when overhead they heard afearful roar. In the murk and blinding confusion no one could tell whatnew peril was threatening, but a piece of pumice almost the size of anapple came whistling down, midway of the party. One of the sailors, withgreat presence of mind, whipped out his sheath knife and cut the rope,shouting,
"Forward! Quick as you can!" then doubled on those behind him, crying,"Back! Back!"
He was not a moment too soon, for full between the two halves of theparty came a pouring torrent of ash. Its greasy and slippery charactermade it flow almost like water, though sending up clouds of dust.Choking and blinded, the rear members of the party gave back. While theywaited, not knowing whether the whole mountain side might not plungedown upon them, Duncan gasped and came to.
Meantime, Eric passed back word to see how the rest of the party hadfared. What was his horror to hear, from the fourth man in the line,
"No one back o' me, sir. An' the line's been cut through. Not broken,sir; cut clean!"
"Right about and go back," ordered Eric. "We've got to find the rest ofthem!"
"Beg your pardon, sir, but I can't."
"Why not?"
"There's a Niagerer of stuff comin' down the mounting, sir, and no onecould stand up agin it for a minnit."
"Shout, then, and try if you can hear the others."
The sailor shouted, and then called to Eric,
"Yes, sir, there's an answerin' hail." Then, a moment later, "They sayeverything's all right. Four of them's there, sir, and Duncan's comearound."
The rushing "whoosh" of the ash-slide began to lessen, and presently,gallantly plowing through the still sliding pumice, came the firstsailor. The rope was knotted and the party went on. A quarter of an hourlater they reached the cannery. The _Redondo_ was lying anchored off thecannery wharf and Eric managed to attract the attention of the crew andget them to launch their boat. The boat pulled in as close to the beachas possible, until it was fast in the ash, then a line was thrown to theshore and the boat pulled in, though the last fifteen feet were likethick porridge. The seven men were brought along the beach and returnedto the vessel. Not a sign remained of the trail the party had made onits outward trip.
It had taken three hours for the rescue, and as soon as the eight menreached the vessel, they gave way. Even Eric was compelled to puthimself in the hands of the ship's surgeon. The doctors, one from theship and one from the village, had been working night and day.Hollow-eyed and unsleeping, they continued their task of reviving peoplesuffocated by the fumes or strangled with ashes. More than one workerhad collapsed utterly as the result of an unceasing fight against thevolcanic fiery rain.
In the afternoon of that third day the sky began to clear and by threeo'clock objects became dimly visible. Absolute dark gave place to anorange-brown light, under which, every object, cloaked in a mask ofashes, looked horribly unfamiliar. It was like waking into a new worldwhere nothing would ever be the same.
The slight tremblings of the earth increased, and almost at the sametime as the clearing of the sky, there was a serious shake. On board the_Bear_ the trouble was not so noticeable, but ashore the occupants ofthe storehouse fled in terror, crying that the building would fall onthem. Their fears were not without justification, for the big framebuilding creaked and swayed in an alarming manner.
This decided the matter. Every one was somehow stowed on board the_Bear_ and at slow speed, only enough to give steerage way, with twoleads going, and the oldest and most experienced pilot in the bow to conher through the narrow channel, the cutter made her way out safely. Sheanchored in the outer harbor, fortunately having secured a bearing fromWoody Island, whereby she could run out to sea by compass course shouldconditions warrant. This also gave an opportunity to relieve thesuffering on Woody Island, and 104 persons were brought on board, making486 people to be fed from the supplies handled by the _Bear_. It wasincredible how so many could be accommodated, but the organization wasperfect.
The night was spent in great suspense; but Eric, who had been relievedfrom duty, slept through it. It was noon before he finally wakened, tofind a bright sunlit sky and a ship clear of ashes. In the afternoon, asthe effects of the eruption cleared away, three expeditions were sent toWoody Island, to St. Paul, and to the neighboring islands. Eric was sentwith the _Redondo_ on the rescue party that was headed for Afognak.<
br />
There it was learned that the eruption had come from Mount Katmai, onthe mainland of the Alaska Peninsula, opposite Kodiak Island, and thatthere were people in distress in the region of the volcano. Without aninstant's delay the _Redondo_ was headed out of the harbor, and despitea dense fog, she was run through the Kupreanoff Straits and acrossShelikoff Straits to Kaflia Bay.
At half-past two in the morning, the _Redondo_ dropped anchor near thevolcano, and as soon as it grew light, Eric was sent to head a landingparty. Every hut was covered with ashes, and a native, pointing to oneof the drifts, said it was as high as "five houses," or about fifty feethigh. All the streams were buried; there was not a drop of liquid of anykind, and the villagers had lived in the tortures of that ash-choked airfor three days, waterless. Two were delirious from thirst, all were atthe point of exhaustion when the Coast Guard men appeared to save them.
With her engines throbbing at their utmost speed, the _Redondo_ passedfrom point to point of the stricken coast, saving over fourscore livesthat a half a day's delay would have rendered too late to save. When thedusk of that day deepened into evening, the _Redondo_ turned homewardfrom those shrouded shores, bearing to safety the homeless victims ofthe peninsula and islands close at hand.
NATIVE REFUGEES FROM KATMAI ERUPTION.
From waterless shores covered six feet deep with orange-grey dust, comefamishing fishers in their kayaks.
Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]
Still in the far distance rumbled the defeated earthquake, still uponthe sky was reflected the lurid glow of the volcano, which, through thedaring and the courage of the Coast Guard men, claimed not a singlevictim.