St. Pierrie.

Manawatu Herald, 6 November 1902, Page 2

St. Pierrie.

In Pearson’s Magazine, Captain Edward William Freeman of the s.a. Roddam, gives an account of the awful events of the Bth May, and an awful story it is. Captain Freeman says that the steamer came to anchor in the early morn in the harbour of St. Pierre and was visited by the supercargo, who chaffed him for having come in on Ascension Day, which would be observed as a holiday. The supercargo told him that the day previous the town had been in an uneasy frame of mind, and some inhabitants had fled, and so the two remained talking. Then, in the

midst of all, Pelee let go, and cut the argument short for ever. “ There came a sudden roar, that shook the earth and the sea. The mountain uplifted, blew out, was rent in twain from top to bottom. F'rom the vast chasm that belched up high into the sky a column of flashing flame, and a great black pillar of cloud. That was all—just the one big roar of the shattering explosion, one flare, and then the cloud, shooting out from the rent, rushing down the mountain side on to the doomed city. Clearing the lower bill* it «prang upon St. Pierre, where the people were hurrying to Mass, enveloping every_ street in darkness and in dust, in an instant —and then sweeping, leaping on down upon thes hipping fa the harbour—a devouring tornado of from the bowels of the mountain. There was no flame, save for that one great flash when the mountain blew up—it was simply a cloud of fine dust—powdered pumice-stone I think, heated to an unknown temperature, that struck the city. In one minute and a half it raced from the heights of Pelee down to St. Pierre's harbour five miles distant, below—searing the mountain side and the hills, destroying in its frenzy every house in St. Pierre, killing every single one of the 40,000 persons, and every living thing that it touched, even to the insects in the air.

Darkness fell—a dense, impenetrable darkness, blacker than the night. In' the town great flames lea^- np. but gave no light. You could feel tbe darkness with your hands, feel It pressing your face. And above the roaring or the fire-tornado awful shrieks arose — weird, unhumaii sounds, like the crying of sea-birds in distress. Then we realised our own danger. Like a whirlwind the cloud of dust came upon us. The Roddam heeled far over. The hot du»t raked us from stem to stern, firing everything that it touched as it drove over us, swirling along in a torrential downpour, filling the ship, penetrating every crevice. Those who Were caught on deck, like Campbell and many of the seamen, were swept overboard, to be drowned in a boiling sea; others were caught as they were rushing below decks, and shrieked in agony as the hot stuff scorched their flesh, A blazing, blinding shower of dust drove through into the chart room, searing my eyes, my face and hands. For two minutes I agony—it seemed more like two years. The worst of it was that the air was so filled with hot dust that with every breath you took you drew it into your mouth, into your lungs, so that you were burnt inside and out.”

Then an effort was made to get away, but the dust had choked the steering gear and it was* an hour and a half before it was clear. At last the Roddam got away to Bt. Lucia.

In getting under way Captain Freeman says, “ The hot dust rained! steadi.y down on us, roasting u» alive. On the bridge, where the dust lay thickest, it was so hot that the soles of my boots were burnt right through and I sent a man to bring me a pair of snow shoes. . . . . The ship was a floating furnace—the dust lay inches _ thick everywhere tarpaulins, rigging, deck-houses, boats, all blazing furiously. After a time it seemed to grow ft little lighter, and when a man could spare a moment from battling with the flames, he could begin to* attend

to the suffering. . . . At first, only two dead bodies were found. But fifteen wounded men, burnt and twisted by their contortions beyond all recognition, were brought up on deck, and laid out in the moat sheltered spot—we could do nothing more for them. Death came mercifully to eight of the sufferers in the course of the voyage. , It happened that I alone of the ship’s company that survived had been on deck when Pelee erupted, and had seen the destruction of St. Pierre. I was taken to hospital, and it was three weeks before I could raise my hands. . . . It took three days for the dust on the decks and in the holds to cool enough to allow it to be handled. Of this dust no fewer than 120 tons were cleared out of her.”