“But if the volcano breaks out, uncle?”
“In that case we must die. The island is so small, that, with this crater in full fury, we would be crushed under the weight of the stones thrown out, or burned to death by the streams of lava. Our only hope is Crispin; and as to this death-trap we must leave it at once. Helena!”
Helena did not answer. She was crouching down with her head on the lap of Zoe, who had joined the group; and the two girls were too terrified to speak, but lay silent with horror, a mere huddled mass of humanity.
“How many of us are left alive?” asked Maurice, raising the girl to her feet.
“About ten, sir,” replied Dick, making a rapid calculation. “Those two who are on the sentry-go at the palisade, Alexandros, who is down there attending to the mine, Temistocles, who is on the look-out, the man here who drives the engine, myself, Zoe, Miss Helena, yourself, and Mr. Justinian.”
The Demarch flung up his hands with a cry of horror.
“Ten survivors out of nearly two hundred people! Oh, there is a curse on me and mine! It is useless to fight against fate, Maurice. We must fly this very minute, and trust to Providence to be spared until the arrival of the yacht. Hark! what is that?”
There was a low moan, which seemed to come from the lips of the crater, and a moment afterwards the earth trembled slightly. It was the dreaded voice of the earthquake, as they knew only too well; and, with a sudden impulse, all turned to fly. The valley smiled peaceful and serene in the brilliant sunshine, the white peaks glittered like Pentelican marble against the sky, the delicate green of the foliage, the myriad hues of the flowers met their eyes on all sides; yet under this mask of smiling loveliness raged fierce subterranean fires, which were already pressing furiously upward to shatter the whole beautiful scene into Titantic fragments of stone.
“Let us take provisions, water, wine—what we can,” said Justinian rapidly, as he led the way into the Acropolis. “There is not a moment to be lost. We must fly without delay.”
The unfortunates made as much speed as they could, and collected all the food they could find, assisted by Argyropoulos, who had been called by the Demarch from his engine. Fortunately there were but few valuables to take away, as Justinian had always lived with great simplicity, and all his money was safe in London. The Demarch hastily gathered up a few of his papers, some money, and a little jewelry which belonged to Helena; while the others loaded themselves only with necessaries, such as provisions, wine, water, and cloaks to protect them should they have to pass the night on the beach. Helena, weeping bitterly, took leave of all her beloved flowers; and never had the court, with its snowy pillars, sporting fountain, and mass of blossoms, looked so beautiful as it did on this fatal morning. Argos, poor bird, was strutting proudly about, quite unaware of his danger; and Helena, touched by a feeling of compassion, impulsively spoke to Maurice.