Part 31 (1/2)

Presently he felt a tug at the line which roped the members of the party together, and he stopped.

”What's the trouble?” he pa.s.sed back word.

”Duncan's gone under, sir.”

Eric made an uncomplimentary reference to Duncan under his breath, then questioned,

”Unconscious?”

Came back the answer,

”Yes, sir; completely collapsed.”

The boy was puzzled what to do. He could detach two members of the party to carry back the unconscious sailor, but that would reduce his strength from eight men to five. He could not leave the man alone, for if he lay on the ground for even ten minutes, he would be covered with volcanic ash and could never be found again.

”The two men nearest on the line pick Duncan up and bring him along,” he ordered, and the party proceeded.

They had covered another hundred yards, when overhead they heard a fearful roar. In the murk and blinding confusion no one could tell what new peril was threatening, but a piece of pumice almost the size of an apple came whistling down, midway of the party. One of the sailors, with great presence of mind, whipped out his sheath knife and cut the rope, shouting,

”Forward! Quick as you can!” then doubled on those behind him, crying, ”Back! Back!”

He was not a moment too soon, for full between the two halves of the party came a pouring torrent of ash. Its greasy and slippery character made it flow almost like water, though sending up clouds of dust.

Choking and blinded, the rear members of the party gave back. While they waited, not knowing whether the whole mountain side might not plunge down upon them, Duncan gasped and came to.

Meantime, Eric pa.s.sed back word to see how the rest of the party had fared. What was his horror to hear, from the fourth man in the line,

”No one back o' me, sir. An' the line's been cut through. Not broken, sir; cut clean!”

”Right about and go back,” ordered Eric. ”We've got to find the rest of them!”

”Beg your pardon, sir, but I can't.”

”Why not?”

”There's a Niagerer of stuff comin' down the mounting, sir, and no one could stand up agin it for a minnit.”

”Shout, then, and try if you can hear the others.”

The sailor shouted, and then called to Eric,

”Yes, sir, there's an answerin' hail.” Then, a moment later, ”They say everything's all right. Four of them's there, sir, and Duncan's come around.”

The rus.h.i.+ng ”whoosh” of the ash-slide began to lessen, and presently, gallantly plowing through the still sliding pumice, came the first sailor. The rope was knotted and the party went on. A quarter of an hour later they reached the cannery. The _Redondo_ was lying anch.o.r.ed off the cannery wharf and Eric managed to attract the attention of the crew and get them to launch their boat. The boat pulled in as close to the beach as possible, until it was fast in the ash, then a line was thrown to the sh.o.r.e and the boat pulled in, though the last fifteen feet were like thick porridge. The seven men were brought along the beach and returned to the vessel. Not a sign remained of the trail the party had made on its outward trip.

It had taken three hours for the rescue, and as soon as the eight men reached the vessel, they gave way. Even Eric was compelled to put himself in the hands of the s.h.i.+p's surgeon. The doctors, one from the s.h.i.+p and one from the village, had been working night and day.

Hollow-eyed and unsleeping, they continued their task of reviving people suffocated by the fumes or strangled with ashes. More than one worker had collapsed utterly as the result of an unceasing fight against the volcanic fiery rain.