[1] Pele, according to the native legends, is the goddess of the volcano, and dwells in the crater.
As we approached cone number seven on our return journey the wind changed, and to our consternation we saw a cloud of sulphur blowing right across our path. These masses of vapour are so impregnated with sulphur and poisonous gases that it is impossible for any living thing to exist among them, and to get caught in their midst means death. Alarmed, we started to go around the other side, but found the lava was too hot; the surface was cool, but there was living fire beneath, and we dared not proceed. We kept on until the lava began to move under our feet, and then beat a retreat to face the sulphur again, for it was better to be smothered to death than slowly roasted.
CONE “NUMBER SEVEN”—IT WAS ABOUT TWO HUNDRED FEET HIGH, A MINIATURE VOLCANO, SPOUTING RED-HOT LAVA AND GIANT BOULDERS WITH A ROAR THAT COULD BE HEARD FOR MILES.
From a Photograph.
We made a number of attempts to pass that deadly barrier of vapour, but were forced to return each time, nearly suffocated. It looked as though we should soon be choked to death—the fire at the back of us, the sulphur in front. Professor Ingalls remarked that we had better make the best of our time by taking notes, and then prepare for the worst. Just at this critical moment I happened to turn round and saw an arch, as it were, in the sulphur smoke, where the wind was blowing it up from the ground.
“Look! look!” I shouted, in great excitement. “Run for it!” And how we ran! Providence gave us the chance and fear lent us strength, for under ordinary circumstances we could never have run as we did, owing to the condition of our feet. The danger, however, made us forget the pain, and we ran for dear life. We had scarcely got through that arch of clear air when down came the cloud again, as though lowered by some great power. The only guide who had stayed with us fell exhausted at the edge of the vapour-mass. How I managed to drag him along I do not know; I hardly realized what I was doing, but I managed to save him.
Once past the danger-point we crawled along at our best pace, for at any moment the wind might turn in our direction, when we should be again overtaken by that terrible death-cloud. I had left my camera behind in our wild flight, but fortunately I saved several plates.
It was now night, and the only light we had was the lurid glare from the volcano. Suddenly, as we stumbled painfully along, we came upon a man sitting by the side of a dead cone; it was the guide who had returned. He said he did not expect to see us alive again, for he had seen the deadly smoke blow across the mountain.
If it had not been for the light from the volcano we should undoubtedly have perished of cold and thirst, as we should have been compelled to stop walking. As it was, we dared not halt for any length of time, or we should not have had warmth enough to keep the blood circulating. All that night we crawled over that terrible lava. We fell down at intervals of about twenty feet, often breaking through the black crust, sometimes up to our waists, cutting ourselves on the sharp projections until our hands and legs were woefully lacerated. Almost as soon as we fell we dropped asleep; then, as we got colder, we would wake up and force ourselves on again for a few dozen yards or so, only to fall asleep, wake, and struggle up once more. The agony of the situation and the pain of our wounds were enough to make a man go insane.
At last it began to get light, but still we had come across no water, and that in our canteens had long since been exhausted. Very few people, fortunately, know what it means to have their throats and lips so swollen and cracked that they are bleeding for want of water. I could scarcely speak. We hunted the depths and crevices of the lava, sometimes going down ten or fifteen feet, looking for water, only to be disappointed again and again. At last I got so weak that Mr. Buck had to take my package of plates off my back, where I had tied them.