The wonders of the world

by John Loraine Abbott

“The view from the summit is stupendous: we could plainly discover the whole form of the island, and we made out distinctly three or four of the islands, which, collectively, are called the Canaries; we could not, however, see Lancerotte or Fuerteventura, though we were told that other travelers had distinguished them all.

“From this spot, the central chain of mountains that run from south-west to north-east, is easily to be distinguished. These, with the succession of fertile and woody valleys, commencing from San Ursula, and ending at Las Horcas, with the long line of precipitous lava rocks that lay on the right of our ascent, and which traverse that part of the island running from east to west, from their point of departure at the Canales, to where they end in an abrupt headland on the coast, with their forests, and villages, and vineyards, the port with the shipping in the roads, the town of Orotava, with its spires glittering as the morning sun burst upon them, afford a cheerful contrast to the streams of lava, the mounds of ash and pumice, and the sulphurated rock on which we had taken our seat. The sensation of extreme hight was in fact one of the most extraordinary I ever felt; and though I did not find the pain in my chest arising from the rarity of the atmosphere, by any means so acute as on the mountains of Switzerland, yet there was a keenness in the air, independent of the cold, that created no small uneasiness in the lungs. The respiration became short and quick, and repeated halts were found necessary. The idea also of extreme hight was to me more determinate and precise than on the mountains of Switzerland; and though the immediate objects of vision were not so numerous, yet as the ascent is more rapid, the declivity sharper, and there is here no mountain like Mont Blanc towering above you, the twelve thousand feet above the level of the sea appeared considerably more than a similar elevation above the lake of Geneva. We remained at the summit about three-quarters of an hour, our ascent having cost us the labor of four hours, as we left La Estancia at ten minutes before three, and reached the top of the peak before seven. Our thermometer, which was graduated to the scale of Fahrenheit, was, during our ascent, as follows: at Orotava, at eight in the morning, seventy-four degrees; at six in the evening, at La Estancia, fifty degrees; at one, in the following morning, forty-two degrees; at La Cueva, at half past four, thirty-two degrees; at the bottom of the cone, thirty-six degrees; at the top of the peak, one hour and a half after sunrise, thirty-three degrees. The descent down the cone is difficult, from its extreme rapidity, and from the fall of large stones, which loosen themselves from the beds of pumice. Having at last scrambled to the bottom, we pursued our march down the other course of the lava, that is to say, down its westerly side, having ascended its eastern. The ravines and rents in this stream of lava are deep and formidable; the descent into them is always painful and troublesome, often dangerous: in some places we let ourselves down from rock to rock. I can form no opinion why there should be these strange irregularities in the surface of this lava; in places it resembles what sailors term the trough of the sea, and I can compare it to nothing but as if the sea in a storm, had by some force become on a sudden stationary, the waves retaining their swell. As we again approached La Cueva, we came to a singular steep valley, the depth of which, from its two sides, can not be less than one hundred to one hundred and fifty feet, the lava lying in broken ridges one upon the other, similar to the masses of granite rock that time and decay have tumbled down from the top of the Alps; and, except from the scoriæ, or what Milton calls ‘the fiery surge,’ they in no degree bear the marks of having rolled as a stream of liquid matter.

“We descended the pumice hill with great rapidity, almost at a run, and arrived at La Estancia in little more than two hours. We then mounted our mules, and following the track by which we had ascended the preceding day, we reached, about four o’clock, the country-house from which we had started.”

The first eruption of which there is any distinct account, occurred on the twenty-fourth of December, 1704, when twenty-nine shocks of an earthquake were distinctly felt. On the thirty-first a great light was observed on Manja, toward the White mountains. Here the earth opened, and two volcanoes were formed, which threw up such heaps of stones as to raise two considerable mountains: the combustible matter, which still continued to be thrown up, kindled above fifty fires in the vicinity. The whole country for three leagues round was in flames, which were increased by another volcano opening by at least thirty different vents within the circumference of half a mile. On the second of February following, another volcano broke out in the town of Guimar, swallowing up a large church.

A subsequent eruption in 1706 filled up the port of Guarachico. The lava, in its descent, ran five leagues in six hours; and on this lava, houses are now built where ships formerly rode at anchor. Neither of these eruptions was from the crater on the summit of the peak, for that has not ejected lava for centuries, and it now issues from the flanks only. The last eruption was on the ninth of June, 1798, and was very terrible. Three new mouths opened at the hight of eighty-one hundred and thirty feet, or upward of a mile and a half above the level of the sea, upon the inclined slope of the base of the peak toward the south-west. Above this, at the hight of ten thousand, two hundred and forty feet, or nearly two miles, M. Cordier found a vast crater nearly four miles and a half in circumference, which lie ascertained to be very ancient. Its sides are extremely steep, and it still presents the most frightful picture of the violence of subterraneous fire. The peak rises from the sides of this monstrous aperture. To the south-west is the mountain of Cahora, which is said to have become a volcano in 1797. The other mountains of Teneriffe, which tradition reports to have been formerly volcanoes, are Monte Roxo, or the red mountain; several mountains, called the Malpasses, lying to the eastward; and one (Rejada) in a southern direction. Throughout the whole of the distance between Monte Roxo and the bay of Adexe, according to Mr. Glass, the shore is about twenty-five hundred feet, or nearly half a mile in hight, and perpendicular as a wall. The southern coast has a much superior elevation, the chain of mountains by which it is bounded being, agreeably to St. Vincent, eighty-three hundred and twenty feet, or more than a mile and a half, above the level of the sea.

THE SOUFFRIERE MOUNTAIN.

This volcanic mountain, the dreadful eruption of which we are about to describe, is the most elevated and most northerly of the lofty chain running through the West India island of St. Vincent. From the extraordinary frequency and violence of the earthquakes, which in 1811, are calculated to have exceeded two hundred, some great movement or eruption was looked for. In the interim the mountain indicated much disquietude; but the apprehension was not so immediate as to restrain curiosity, or to prevent repeated visits to the crater, which had latterly been more numerous than ever. Even on the twenty-sixth of April, 1812, the day preceding the eruption, several gentlemen ascended and remained there for some time. Nothing unusual was then remarked, nor any external difference observed, except rather a stronger emission of smoke from the interstices of the conical hill, at the bottom of the crater. To those who have not visited this romantic and wonderful spot, a slight description of it, as it lately stood, is previously necessary.

“About two thousand feet from the level of the sea, on the south side of the mountain, and at rather more than two-thirds of its hight, opens a circular chasm, somewhat exceeding half a mile in diameter, and between four hundred and five hundred feet in depth. Exactly in the center of this capacious bowl, rose a conical hill about two hundred and sixty or three hundred feet in hight, and about two hundred in diameter, richly covered and variegated with shrubs, brushwood and vines, above half-way up, and the remainder covered over with virgin sulphur to the top. From the fissures of the cone and interstices of the rocks, a thin white smoke was constantly emitted, occasionally tinged with a slight bluish flame. The precipitous sides of this magnificent amphitheater were fringed with various evergreens and aromatic shrubs, flowers, and many alpine plants. On the north and south sides of the base of the cone were two pieces of water, one perfectly pure and tasteless, the other strongly impregnated with sulphur and alum. This lonely and beautiful spot was rendered more enchanting by the singularly melodious notes of a bird, an inhabitant of these upper solitudes, and altogether unknown to the other parts of the island, hence principally called or supposed to be invisible, though it certainly has been seen, and is a species of blackbird.

“A century had now elapsed since the last convulsion of the mountain, or since any other elements had disturbed the serenity of this wilderness, besides those which are common to the tropical tempest. It apparently slumbered in primeval solitude and tranquillity, and from the luxuriant vegetation and growth of the forest, which covered its side from the base nearly to the summit, seemed to discountenance the fact, and falsify the records of the ancient volcano. Such was the majestic, peaceful Souffriere, on April the twenty-seventh; but our imaginary safety was soon to be confounded by the sudden danger of devastation. Just as the plantation bell rang at noon on that day, an abrupt and dreadful crash from the mountain, with a severe concussion of the earth, and tremulous noise in the air, alarmed all around it. The resurrection of this fiery furnace was proclaimed in a moment by a vast column of thick, black, ropy smoke, like that of an immense glass-house, bursting forth at once, and mounting to the sky; showering down sand, gritty calcined particles of earth and ashes mixed, on all below. This, driven before the wind toward Wallibou and Morne Ronde, darkened the air like a cataract of rain, and covered the ridges, woods and cane-pieces with light gray-colored ashes, resembling snow when slightly covered by dust. As the eruption increased, this continual shower expanded, destroying every appearance of vegetation. At night a very considerable degree of ignition was observed on the lips of the crater; but it is not asserted that there was as yet any visible ascension of flame. The same awful scene presented itself on the following day; the fall of ashes and calcined pebbles still increasing, and the compact, pitchy column from the crater rising perpendicularly to an immense hight, with a noise at intervals like the muttering of distant thunder.

“On Wednesday, the twenty-ninth, all these menacing symptoms of horror and combustion still gathered more thick and terrific for miles around the dismal and half-obscured mountain. The prodigious column shot up with quicker motion, dilating as it rose like a balloon. The sun appeared in total eclipse, and shed a meridian of twilight over us, that aggravated the wintry gloom of the scene, now completely powdered over with falling particles. It was evident that the crisis was yet to come, that the burning fluid was struggling for a vent, and laboring to throw off the superincumbent strata and obstructions, which suppressed its torrent. At night, it was manifest that it had greatly disengaged itself from its burden, by the appearance of fire flashing above the mouth of the crater.