[Note: this transcription was produced by an automatic OCR engine]

274 WITH NATIVES IN THE WESTERN PACIFIC

fever dream turned real, and no description could
do it justice.

, In front of me the ground fell down steeply, and
the torn sides of the crater formed a funnel-shaped
cavity, a dark, yawning depth. There were jagged
rocks, fantastic, wild ridges, crevices, fearful depths,
from which issued steam and smoke. Poisonous
vapour poured out of the rocks in white and brownish
clouds that waved to and fro, slowly rising, until a
breeze caught and carried them away. The sight
alone would suffice to inspire terror, without the
oppressive smoke and the uncanny noise far down
in the depths. Dull and regular, it sounded like
the piston of an engine or a great drum, heard
through the noises of a factory. Presently there
was silence, and then, without any warning, came
a tearing crack, the thunder as of 100 heavy guns, a
metallic din, and a cloud of smoke rose; and while
we forced ourselves to stay and watch, the inferno
below thundered a roaring echo, the walls shook,
and a thousand dark specks flew up like a swarm
of frightened birds. They were lava blocks, and
they fell back from the height of the crater, rattling
on the rocks, or were swallowed up by the invisible
gorge. Then a thick cloud surrounded everything,
and we realized that our post at the mouth of the
crater, on an overhanging ridge, was dangerous;
indeed, a part of the edge, not far off, broke down
and was lost in the depths. Another and another
explosion followed; but when we turned, we over-
looked a peaceful landscape, green forests, palms