Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad Page 7

  CHAPTER VI

  UNDER A CLOUD

  "After all," said Uncle John, next morning, "we may consider ourselvesvery lucky. Your parents might have come to Naples a hundred times, mydears, and your children may come a hundred times more, and yet neversee the sights that have greeted us on our arrival. If the confoundedold hill was bound to spout, it did the fair thing by spouting when wewere around. Eh, Patsy?"

  "I quite agree with you," said the girl. "I wouldn't have missed it foranything--if it really had to behave so."

  "But you'll pay for it!" growled Signor Valdi, who had overheard theseremarks. "You will pay for it with a thousand discomforts--and I'm gladthat is so. Vesuvio is hell let loose; and it amuses you. Hundreds arelying dead and crushed; and you are lucky to be here. Listen," hedropped his voice to a whisper: "if these Neapolitans could see therejoicing in my heart, they would kill me. And you? Pah! you are nobetter. You also rejoice--and they will welcome you to Naples. I haveadvice. Do not go on shore. It is useless."

  They were all startled by this strange speech, and the reproof itconveyed made them a trifle uncomfortable; but Uncle John whispered thatthe man was mad, and to pay no attention to him.

  Although ashes still fell softly upon the ship the day had somewhatlightened the gloom and they could see from deck the dim outlines of theshore. A crowd of boats presently swarmed around them, their occupantseagerly clamoring for passengers to go ashore, or offering fruits,flowers and souvenirs to any who might be induced to purchase. Theirindifference to their own and their city's danger was astonishing. Itwas their custom to greet arriving steamers in this way, for by thismeans they gained a livelihood. Nothing short of absolute destructionseemed able to interfere with their established occupations.

  A steam tender also came alongside, and after a cordial farewell to theship's officers and their travelling acquaintances, Uncle John placedhis nieces and their baggage aboard the tender, which shortly depositedthem safely upon the dock.

  Perhaps a lot of passengers more dismal looking never before landed onthe beautiful shores of Naples--beautiful no longer, but presenting anappearance gray and grewsome. Ashes were ankle deep in the streets--afine, flour-like dust that clung to your clothing, filled your eyes andlungs and seemed to penetrate everywhere. The foliage of the trees andshrubbery drooped under its load and had turned from green to theall-pervading gray. The grass was covered; the cornices and balconies ofthe houses were banked with ashes.

  "Bless me!" said Uncle John. "It's as bad as Pompey, or whatever thatcity was called that was buried in the Bible days."

  "Oh, not quite, Uncle," answered Patsy, in her cheery voice; "but it maybe, before Vesuvius is satisfied."

  "It is certainly bad enough," observed Louise, pouting as she marked thedestruction of her pretty cloak by the grimy deposit that was fastchanging its color and texture.

  "Well, let us get under shelter as soon as possible," said Uncle John.

  The outlines of a carriage were visible a short distance away. He walkedup to the driver and said:

  "We want to go to a hotel."

  The man paid no attention.

  "Ask him how much he charges, Uncle. You know you mustn't take a cab inNaples without bargaining."

  "Why not?"

  "The driver will swindle you."

  "I'll risk that," he answered. "Just now we're lucky if we get acarriage at all." He reached up and prodded the jehu in the ribs withhis cane. "How much to the Hotel Vesuvius?" he demanded, loudly.

  The man woke up and flourished his whip, at the same time bursting intoa flood of Italian.

  The girls listened carefully. They had been trying to study Italianfrom a small book Beth had bought entitled "Italian in Three Weekswithout a Master," but not a word the driver of the carriage said seemedto have occurred in the vocabulary of the book. He repeated "Vesuvio"many times, however, with scornful, angry or imploring intonations, andLouise finally said:

  "He thinks you want to go to the volcano, Uncle. The hotel is theVesuve, not the Vesuvius."

  "What's the difference?"

  "I don't know."

  "All right; you girls just hop in, and leave the rest to me."

  He tumbled them all into the vehicle, bag and baggage, and then saidsternly to the driver:

  "Ho-tel Ve-suve--Ve-suve--ho-tel Ve-suve! Drive there darned quick, orI'll break your confounded neck."

  The carriage started. It plowed its way jerkily through the dust-ladenstreets and finally stopped at an imposing looking structure. The daywas growing darker, and an electric lamp burned before the entrance.But no one came out to receive them.

  Uncle John climbed out and read the sign. "Hotel du Vesuve." It was theestablishment he had been advised to stop at while in Naples. Hecompared the sign with a card which he drew from his pocket, and knewthat he had made no mistake.

  Entering the spacious lobby, he found it deserted. In the office a manwas hastily making a package of some books and papers and did notrespond or even look up when spoken to. At the concierge's desk a big,whiskered man sat staring straight ahead of him with a look of abjectterror in his eyes.

  "Good morning," said Uncle John. "Fine day, isn't it?"

  "Did you hear it?" whispered the concierge, as a dull boom, like that ofa distant cannon, made the windows rattle in their casements.

  "Of course," replied Mr. Merrick, carelessly. "Old Vesuve seems on arampage. But never mind that now. We've just come from America, wherethe mountains are more polite, and we're going to stop at your hotel."

  The concierge's eyes wandered from the man to the three girls who hadentered and grouped themselves behind him. Then they fell upon thedriver of the carriage, who burst into a torrent of vociferous butwholly unintelligible exclamations which Uncle John declared "must be anexcuse--and a mighty poor one--for talking."

  The whiskered man, whose cap was elaborately embroidered in gold withthe words "Hotel du Vesuve," seemed to understand the driver. He sigheddrearily and said to Mr. Merrick:

  "You must pay him thirty lira."

  "How much is that?"

  "Six dollars."

  "Not by a jugfull!"

  "You made no bargain."

  "I couldn't. He can't talk."

  "He claims it is you who cannot talk."

  "What!"

  "And prices are advanced during these awful days. What does it matter?Your money will do you no good when we are all buried deep in ash andscoria."

  The big man shuddered at this gloomy picture, and added, listlessly:"You'll have to pay."

  Uncle John paid, but the driver wouldn't accept American money. Thedisconsolate concierge would, though. He unlocked a drawer, put the sixdollars into one section and drew from another two ten-lira notes. Thedriver took them, bowed respectfully to the whiskered man, shot abroadside of invective Italian at the unconscious Americans, and leftthe hotel.

  "How about rooms?" asked Uncle John.

  "Take any you please," answered the concierge. "All our guests are gonebut two--two mad Americans like yourselves. The servants are also gone;the chef has gone; the elevator conductors are gone. If you stay you'llhave to walk up."

  "Where have they all gone?" asked Uncle John, wonderingly.

  "Fled, sir; fled to escape destruction. They remember Pompeii. OnlySignor Floriano, the proprietor, and myself are left. We stick to thelast. We are brave."

  "So I see. Now, look here, my manly hero. It's possible we shall alllive through it; I'll bet you a thousand to ten that we do. And thenyou'll be glad to realize you've pocketed a little more American money.Come out of that box and show us some rooms, and I'll help to build upyour fortune."

  The concierge obeyed. Even the horrors of the situation could noteliminate from his carefully trained nature that desire to accumulatewhich is the prime qualification of his profession. The Americans walkedup one flight and found spacious rooms on the first floor, of which theyimmediately took possession.

  "Send for our trunks," said Mr. Merrick; and the man c
onsented to do soprovided he could secure a proper vehicle.

  "You will be obliged to pay high for it," he warned; "but that will notmatter. To witness the destruction of our beautiful Naples is an unusualsight. It will be worth your money."

  "We'll settle that in the dim hereafter," replied Uncle John. "You getthe trunks, and I'll take care of the finances."

  When the concierge had retired the girls began to stuff newspapers intothe cracks of the windows of their sitting room, where the fine ash wassifting in and forming little drifts several inches in thickness. Alsothe atmosphere of the room was filled with impalpable particles of dust,which rendered breathing oppressive and unpleasant.

  Uncle John watched them for a time, and his brow clouded.

  "See here, girls," he exclaimed; "let's hold a council of war. Do yousuppose we are in any real danger?"

  They grouped around him with eager interest.

  "It's something new to be in danger, and rather exciting, don't youthink?" said Beth. "But perhaps we're as safe as we would be at home."

  "Once," said Louise, slowly, "there was a great eruption of Vesuviuswhich destroyed the cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii. Many of theinhabitants were buried alive. Perhaps they thought there was no realdanger."

  Uncle John scratched his head reflectively.

  "I take it," he observed, "that the moral of your story is to light outwhile we have the chance."

  "Not necessarily," observed the girl, smiling at his perplexity. "It islikewise true that many other eruptions have occurred, when littledamage was done."

  "Forewarned is forearmed," declared Patsy. "Naples isn't buried morethan six inches in ashes, as yet, and it will take days for them toreach to our windows, provided they're falling at the same rate they donow. I don't see any use of getting scared before to-morrow, anyhow."

  "It's a big hill," said Uncle John, gravely, "and I've no right to takefoolish chances with three girls on my hands."

  "I'm not frightened, Uncle John."

  "Nor I."

  "Nor I, the least bit."

  "Everyone has left the hotel but ourselves," said he.

  "How sorry they will be, afterward," remarked Beth.

  He looked at them admiringly, and kissed each one.

  "You stay in this room and don't move a peg till I get back," heenjoined them; "I'm going out to look over the situation."