Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1910-05-03
WHAT REMAINS OF ST. PIERRE
The White Skeleton of Dead
Civ

|
| City.
| Pelee. 1t looks innocent enough
| The island lies smiling and peaceful il
the sunshine. with rich wooded val
leys lying between the green should
crs Of warm foothills which rise t.
the heavily timbered slopes Of the
great hill itself From we'll out at sea
for a few minutes only we had seer
the full outline of the mountain clea1
cut against the sky, the cone truncat
ed as sharply as the top Of an egg
which has been sliced with knife.
In the awful moment on that Stf
of May. 1902, when the cap of the
mountain lifted before the blast OF
flame swept down upon the city or
the shore it is said that by the mere
concusson masts and tunnels were
lifted out of ships that lay off shore
But today, and usually. 1t is only from
out at sea that one sees the monsters
outline intact.
One by one the green and happy
looking hills wheel by us until, toe
suddenly it seems, writes a correspon-
dent of the London Times, the lone
curved line of the bay Is before one
where was once st. Pierre. 1T is men
not walls, that make a city" the Greek
maxim ran, and more. it is living
men. For the walls of st. Pierre are
there still, and probably no fewer
than 10000 oi it's inhabitants are
there also. But they have been asleer
these eight years now. And it is ex-
traordinarily impressive. this white
sightless skeleton of dead city.
In orderly rows the houses stand as
seen from the sea, the streets rising
in tier upon well graded tier back
from the shore to the hills. But ev-
cry street is silent, every house roof
less, every window cavernOnS and
blind. The sea is as smooth as a sheet
of glass. Between us and the shore
one small boat contains two boys who
have been fishing, the sun shining on
their copper colored skins and on the
brilliant red rock fish with which the
bottom of the boat is Uttered. Other
wise there is no life in all the wide
roadstead, where seventeen vessels
with numerous small boats were
swallowed up that day.
Almost without a ripple we slide
through the still, indigo colored sea
the anchor runs out, and we swing
gently round some 800 yards perhaps
from the uncanny land. We go ashore
in the shi~'s launch, for no one puts
out to take us off or greet us: and the
captain does not come with US. The
bottom here is buried many feet deep
in volcanic dust and ashes, and in
such stuff even in a calm like this an
anchor drags at times.
On the fOrlorn wreck of a jetty we
are met by half a dozen almost un-
clad black folk, three women the
elderly hag perhaps the mother OF
the two others), one old and crippled
man and two young boys, all thrust
ing on us pathetic souvenirs dug from
this graveyard of a city-goblets and
other glass vessels showing the action
of the fire, half fused and melted out
of shape: coins burned and bent; per-
sonal ornaments, as a bronze crucifiX
and chain: bits of bric-a-brac, like an
old wrought iron caadlestick and an
Indian god in Benares brass-all
alike bearing witness to the awfulness
of that hour when the hot air search
ed the town as a flame is driven by a
forced draught through a furnace,
each poor article truly a memento
mort.
How could human life continue in
an atmosphere which almost instan-
eously charred and destroyed all
woodwork, melted the setter metals
and left the hardest half fused, blis-
tered and distorted and split blocks
of marble and granite as we see them
split here? They say that in these
streets the dead lay in their scores
and hundreds all crouched in one d.
rection. all with their useless arms
bent across their faces.
Before us as we land lies the wide
paved street which runs along the par
allel to the waterfront. And there,
says the ships officer who is my guide
and counsellor "was tho wickedest
spot in the whole West Indies. That
row of houses, pink and white, to the
left. The French nature, you know
away from the restraints of home.
with the ignorance and dOcility of the
blacks. 1t is a bad combination"
There are legends now of blasphe-
nous rites which were in progress
when the fire from the Lord out OF
heaven was rained down-legends
which have probably grown up since
the event. But there seems to have
been good ground for that descrip-
ton. the wickedest spot in the West
Indies" And of over 10000 people
who were presumably in the city al
the time only one man escaped, pris-
Dllef ullutT ScIlltIlIt Va 'N'N'' 49,
murder confined in a cell imperVlous
to the flames and fumes, and he only
escaned to die of the shock a few
days later.
Fifty yards of a narrow cross street
bring us to what was once the chlet
business thoroughfare Of st. Pierre.
Wide and straight it runs for mile
in either direction, the roadway flag
ged with blocks of stone, fair and
smooth to where on each side the gut
ters are now green ribbons of herbage.
Then the high curb rises, and beyond
it the broad paved sidewalk for the
French build their colonial cities bet
ter than WEI reaches to the straight,
clean. orderly frontage of the stone
built shops. Straight and orderly the
line of the shop fronts still stands
the fronts only, with gaping doorways
and empty windows.
Here and there, still fixed in the
heavy masonry, the rusted clamps and
pins show where doors were hung and
window shutters fastened, but beyond
the bare incOmbustible stone and met