The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1902-07-09
CAMILLE OF MARTINIQUE
By MARY WOOD.

again implore you! Come with me. The
white sails of my Santa Maria will bear you
safely to Basse Terre, and there have
friend, good padre, who will make us one.
Come my flower"
His voice had softened to infinite tender
ness. Camille leaned heavily against the
wall, and her words were broken by longing
as she whispered, # cannot"
A hot tear eplashed down upon his hand,
but he drew it away roughly. Enough Of
tears! he cried bitterly. "They cost you
nothing, while II am eating my heart out
for you. But you have said mo- once too
often. swear to you''-and he raised his
hand and pointed to the distant mountain
peak half cloaked in vapor-"I swear to you
that yon sleeping Pelee shall wake to life
before l again seek for your love!"
Camille gave a cry of anguish, but it fell
on ears all unloading. Filipe strobe down
the road toward the quay with never a back
ward glance The girls face was as waxen
as her namesake's, and, like rudely broken
flower, she sank on her knees against the
wall. Above her sobs came the rumble Of
Pelees voice, but she did not hear.
1t was at Basse Terre that the news cane
to Fiipe-eame in a swift succession of hor-
rble rumors, each more terrifying than the
last. Pelee had awakened. And ST. Pierref
No one knew. 49,
And Camille? Filipe prayed in his heart
when his dry lips refused to move. So be-
numbed were his senses from anguish and
suffering that the memory of his oath had
no longer power to move him. The Santa
Maria was headed directly for the port of 81.
Pierre. Her decks were strewn with ashes
and stones, her sails and rigging torn and
broken, yet CALAMITY she rode this unknown
sea Of dirty saffron color, whose sullen water
was numbered with wreekage. She had met
huge tidal waves that swept away her crew,
hr,f CHI foil he horf ST r.
at the helm. The pilots eyes. bloodshot by
long hours of vigil, were fixed on the blazing
heaps which alone remained to tell the story
of St. Pierre. -
Swollen bodies were now added to the
wreckage on the water. Filipe had sunk on
his knees, as if fearful Of recognizing be-
loved face among them. But the Santa Maria,
driven on by sudden breeze, headed straight
for the quay that lay nearest to where the
white wall showed amid the stricken garden.
Hardly conscious of having made the land.
ing, he staggered UP the walk and leaped the
wall. A groan escaped his lips. There, amid
the b1ackened stems Of the camellias, lay
body. It was burned to crisp far beyond
recognition, but the lover could not doubt.
Around was silence, desolation,- death. And
here lay Camille. -
z"she was watching for me-for the heart
| less one,'' he muttered. - -
Then sudden fury seized him. 81 shall not
| ''There must be places on this accursed Island
still untouched by fire. I will lay you to
sleep there under fragrant blossoms. and then
perhaps the saints will ease me Of my mis-
| cry" & s.E = y =.
Stripping off his coat, he wrapped It tender
ly about the body, hiding the face, and bore
| it down to the quay.
| Again the favoring wind sprang up, and
the Santa Maria crept slowly down the bay,
| and still the voice OF Pelee Numbered from
the peak wreathed in forked lightnings. Her
| ashes fell ceaselessly the shrouded. figure
at the foot Of the mast and on the head OF
the pilot His hands and face were blackened
and burned and his eyes were blinded by
| smoke and dust, but his hand still kept the
helm and the Santa Maria her way.
The Dixie's deck was crowded with anxoua
men, for were they not already entering tha
great zone of ashes that surrounded the fated
island? Through the gloom came the CLEAN
Eof SAIL t.sShip ahoy!, brought no answer.
Probably refugees and too3iazed to speak, =
one may said coamiseratingly. =
| mo; not dazed-only dead. another re-
piled, for Pelee had added another victim to
her list, and the saints had released Fiiips
| from his misery. -Perhaps-who knows?-he
found his flower one again in all her radiant
beauty where camellias ever bloom.