“I can’t give my father up—I simply can’t!” said Frank to his chum, in a choking voice. “It’s too awful to think of!”
“I feel exactly the same, Frank,” answered the older youth. “But what more can we do?”
“I am going to make more inquiries when we reach Fort de France.”
“Oh, I shall do that, too.”
On the way down the coast they fell in with many vessels, all going to St. Pierre to give aid to those who, alas, were beyond human needs. These craft moved along silently, nobody feeling in the humor to even discuss the situation.
As soon as they landed at the capital city they started for the post-office, to learn if anything in the shape of a letter had been left for one or another of the party. They found the streets crowded with people of all nationalities and for the first time learned how Fort de France had received a shower of dust and stones, and how everybody had been terrorized and business brought to a standstill.
“It’s a fearful state of affairs,” said Sam. “They won’t recover from this for years.”
“St. Pierre will never recover, Samuel,” returned the professor. “The eruption has——”
Professor Strong stopped short, for a cry from Mark had interrupted him. The youth was pointing up a street to their left.
“See! see! There is a crowd of negroes and they are beating a white man! If somebody don’t help the white fellow they will kill him!”