Early in the morning scores of people came to the ship for drinking-water, many of the streams and wells in the village having been choked. About five inches of ashes had fallen. The captain of the Bear started the evaporators going, to provide drinking-water for the folk ashore.
Shortly before noon the ashes began to fall again, even more heavily than before. When Eric came up from below after lunch, the air was so full of a heavy gritty ash that it was impossible to see the length of the ship. The Bear was evidently in a place of danger and there was no means 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 place unprotected."
"We'd never do that," replied the other. "Things don't work out that way in the Coast Guard. You'll see. We'll stick here till the last gun's fired."
It was a relief to Eric when at three o'clock that afternoon he was ordered to accompany a shore party. All hands had been on duty since seven that morning, and when Eric went ashore the sailors were keeping regular shifts with shovels, clearing the decks, while four streams of water from the fire mains were playing incessantly in an effort to clear the ship of its horrible burden.
More than once, when the rain of volcanic débris 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 turn turtle. 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 were crowded, requested the proprietors to close. This they did without demur, realizing that at a time of such peculiar danger, when no one knew what had happened, what was happening, or where the next outbreak might come, it was necessary for everybody to be on the alert.
Through the afternoon the darkness increased into a horrid gloom far worse than the darkest night. Men collided with each other working about the decks, for the feeble glow of electric lights and lanterns was deadened by the yellowish compost so that they could not be seen five feet away. When nightfall came, no one knew, it had been scarcely less dark at three o'clock in the afternoon than at midnight. All night long men worked steadily in shifts, clearing away the ash. Ashore the conditions were equally terrifying and all night long the bell of the Russian Church boomed out in the blackness. There were few of its followers who did not grope their way to the building at some time during that awful night.
Sunrise and the coming of daylight passed unseen and unnoticed. Only chronometers and watches served to tell the change from night to day. The three pilots of the place were summoned to discuss the possibility of getting the Bear safely out to sea, with all the population of the village on board. As every landmark was obliterated, and as the ship's bow could not be seen from the bridge, not one of the pilots would undertake to con the ship through the narrow channel.
Somewhere the sun was shining, but not a glint of light passed the impenetrable veil overhead. Still the sailors worked steadily, shoveling off the ash over the vessel's side, still the pumps worked, though now the water brought up from the harbor was like gruel and scarcely could be forced through the pipes. Every few minutes, from the hills around the village, avalanches of ashes could be heard, the terrible clouds of débris flying over the town and adding to the choking smother.