Part 3 (1/2)
On the quay we see barrows covered with a curious flesh-coloured fruit about the size and shape of a large pear, and this is quite new to us.
We discover these are called Indian figs; but why Indian? They are grown here and are a popular native fruit. They are covered by a thick skin, easily peeled off, and are full of juice and very large pips; they have a sweetish rather sickly taste, but one can imagine they must be a great boon to the poor Italians who can get a good refres.h.i.+ng drink for almost nothing.
Once aboard we discover that something has gone wrong--a propeller has dropped a blade and the s.h.i.+p will not start for some hours. We might have stayed longer in Pompeii after all!
There are compensations for everything and soon we find that this delay is going to be a good one for us, for it will enable us to see two other volcanoes which otherwise we should have missed in the darkness.
We ask the night-steward to wake us in time for the first, and it seems as if our heads had hardly touched the pillows when we hear his voice at the door, ”Stromboli in sight, sir!” It is cold and we are very sleepy; grumbling, we make our way to the front of the deck below the bridge, and suddenly, in the blackness ahead, there shoots up a short straight column of fire like that from the chimney of a blast furnace. It disappears as quickly and quietly as it came, and odd bits of flame, like red-hot cinders, roll this way and that, then all is black again.
As the sky quickly lightens we see outlined against it a cone or pyramid, and from the summit there shoots out another column of flame, to disappear almost instantly.
”Stromboli sky-rocketing,” says the voice of one of the officers on the bridge above.
All the time we are gliding nearer and nearer to the wonderful mountain, when, with an amazing swiftness, up flashes the sun, sweeping rays of colour over the sky, changing it from pale primrose to fiery orange, and there, black against it, is a little island so neatly made that it appears an exact triangle with a bite out of one side near the top.
Stromboli is one of a group of little islands. What had appeared as flame in the darkness shows at the next eruption to be a puff of smoke from which burning lumps fall on the rocky sides and down the precipices. This happens about every quarter of an hour. The sea meantime changes to vivid blue. We are quite close now and can see tiny white houses nestling on the edge of the island amid cl.u.s.ters of green.
What happens to the people if the boiling lava rolls down through their vineyards and into their houses? There is no one to answer that question. Perhaps it never gets so far, perhaps Stromboli has not yet shown himself to be a fierce volcano, but limits his eruptions to angry splutterings which beat on the scarred precipices of the steep sides above the dwellings of the people,--anyway, I don't think I should care to live there, just in case----
We awake suddenly from our intent gazing to find ourselves the laughing-stock of a crowd of decently dressed men and women who have come up in the daylight, properly clad, and there are we in dressing-gowns, not over-long, and slippered feet! But no one minds these little mishaps on board s.h.i.+p, and with dignity we pa.s.s through to our cabin, smiling and feeling very superior to have seen so much more than the lie-abeds!
As it happens, it is Sunday morning and a very different day from yesterday, with bright sun and a clear sky. As a rule there is service on board s.h.i.+p on Sundays, but to-day we are just going to pa.s.s through the Straits of Messina, and the captain must be on the bridge the whole time, and there is no clergyman to take the duty for him, so we can't have it. But we could hardly pa.s.s a Sunday better than in admiring the marvellous beauty which G.o.d has given to us in this world for our delight.
It is about four hours after pa.s.sing Stromboli that we enter the straits which separate Sicily, the three-cornered island, from Italy, which seems to be kicking it away with the toe of its foot. Land begins to close in on us, and in the dazzling suns.h.i.+ne it appears radiant, while the sea is a mirror of blue. On both sides we see houses and villages built on the sloping sh.o.r.es, but the interest heightens when we come close abreast the great town of Messina which, on the 20th of December 1908, suddenly became world-famous owing to the awful misfortune which befell it. All educated people knew Messina by name previously, but it was not until the Italian wires flashed the story of the earthquake which had wrought destruction so swiftly and dramatically that it will always be ranked as among the most appalling that ever happened, that everyone with one consent turned their attention to Messina, and the eyes of the whole world were focused on it. The suddenness of the calamity was the most terrible feature of it. It was early in the morning when the earth shook and heaved and raised itself, and in about four minutes, what had been a happy prosperous town was reduced to a smoking ruin, a shambles of dead bodies, and a h.e.l.l on earth for the miserable beings who lived in it! Almost all the houses fell together; whole streets of them collapsed like a pack of cards, and the shock was so tremendous that in many cases even the bricks and stone of which they were made were ground to powder. Tens of thousands of people were buried before they could get into the streets, and their own houses, where they had been happy and miserable, had been born or married or suffered, were turned into their tombs. Those who were killed outright were not the most unfortunate, for others were caught by a limb beneath falling stones, or crushed and held yet living, and their direful shrieks of agony added to the horrors, for there was none to help them, all were in the grip of the same misfortune. To add to the disaster flames broke out from the ruined houses, and the city was lit by the lurid light of fire rising to heaven. No one will ever know how many hapless creatures were burnt to death! There was no possibility of working the telegraph wires, and the people left alive simply had to wait for help till help came. And meantime volumes of water, disturbed by the change of sea-level, rolled in upon the land!
Directly the news startled the whole civilised world, s.h.i.+ps of all nations, which happened to be anywhere near, hastened to the rescue.
Camps were hastily run up and the survivors taken to them, food was supplied to all who needed it, the wounded and maimed were attended to, and wherever possible those who were still living in the ruins were dug out and set free. But, as you may imagine, this was a work of great danger, because dragging out a beam or stone often sent a shattering avalanche down on the top of the rescuers.
The number of those destroyed can never be known certainly, but it is estimated at somewhere about 200,000, for Messina is a large town.
Charitable people sent subscriptions from all quarters; money flowed in; those children who had lost their parents, and even in some cases their names and ident.i.ty, being too small to give any account of themselves, were placed in kind homes and provided for, and those who were completely crippled a.s.sured of support; others were given the means to start life once more. It is difficult to imagine that all this happened only a few short years ago now; even though we are quite close to Messina, and have the use of a very fine pair of field-gla.s.ses, it is difficult to make out any of the mischief. It appears as if the houses had been rebuilt, warehouses and chimneys stand as usual, and the great viaduct spans the valley; but those who know say that this is only a good face seen from the sea, and that ruins still lie in quant.i.ties behind. In the memories of those who pa.s.sed through the earthquake there must be a shuddering horror never to be forgotten, a black mark pa.s.sing athwart their lives and cutting them into two parts--that before and that after the catastrophe.
Farther on more little villages appear, some looking just like a spilt box of child's bricks tumbled any way down a mountain spur. Then we catch sight of the great majesty of Etna, the third volcano we have seen in two days, and we stand lost in admiration of his pure beauty.
The smoothness of the eternal snow glows like a silver s.h.i.+eld on the breast of the giant peak. Far below are vineyards, olive groves, orchards, and orange and lemon groves, for Sicily is celebrated for these fruits. Above them are beech-woods, so deep and dark that they are seldom penetrated even by the peasants; beautiful as the beech is, it is a poisonous tree and nothing can live beneath its shade.
It is all so smiling and peaceful on this serene Sunday morning that we can hardly believe that in Etna too there lies the raging demon of mighty force. Even as we watch a faint puff of pure white smoke, so thin that it might be mistaken for a wisp of cloud, floats away from the peak into the infinite blue, and we know by his breath that the demon is not dead but only sleeping.
”Lucky indeed to get Etna clear of clouds,” says one of the pa.s.sengers near us. ”I've been through the Straits a score of times and I've hardly ever seen it as you are seeing it for the first time to-day.”
Volcanoes and earthquakes are closely connected. There lies within this world of ours an imprisoned power of vital heat, which now and again bursts through at weak places in the crust. Geologists tell us that these weak places may be traced in long lines on the earth's surface, and along one of them lie the volcanoes we have seen. But the laws which govern the earthquake and the volcano are hardly yet understood, even to-day.
After calling at another little Italian port for the mails, we do not stop anywhere for the next few days, but steam along steadily, making up for lost time. We have seen something of the southern part of our own continent of Europe. We have landed in Spain at Gibraltar, we set foot on French soil in Toulon, where the steamer called to take on pa.s.sengers from across France, we have visited Italy at Naples, and these are the princ.i.p.al countries which line the huge land-locked sea. In old times the whole civilised world centred around the Mediterranean, and Rome, which is now the capital of Italy, dominated it all, making one mighty empire. The dominion of Rome reached far northward to our own islands, and she was so secure and supreme in her power that it never entered the heads of the Romans then living that some day the whole empire would be split up and distributed. Their dominion reached even to Egypt, where we are now going, and to the Holy Land, which we shall visit afterwards; their fleets covered the sea, their armies strode hot-footed across the land, making broad ways that pa.s.sed over hill and valley without pause or rest, yet now the empire of Rome is but a name.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
CHAPTER IV
THE STRANGEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD
Looking down from the deck of the _Orontes_ it seems as if we were peering into the folds of a black gauze curtain, between which demons from the pit rush yelling to and fro. These men are black from head to foot, with the exception of the gleaming white teeth which show between their open lips. They are black to begin with by nature, and are further covered, scanty clothing and all, with a thick coating of coal-dust, which sticks to their oily skins and dirty rags. They are digging frantically into the heaped-up coal of a great barge lying alongside, gathering it into baskets and rus.h.i.+ng up planks to deposit it in the coal bunkers of the steamer, and all the while they shout in a strange chant at the tops of their voices. When white men are doing severe work they are silent, as they need all their strength for the task in hand, but when their dark-skinned brothers work they find it necessary to shout as loudly as they can, and the harder the work the more noise they make. At a little distance their confused yelling is like the cheering of a great crowd at a popular football match.