One who was living in the Island of Jamaica years ago well remembers the fatal 8th of May, 1902. Then it was that the terrible catastrophe which swept 28,000 people into eternity in less than one minute, overtook the city of Saint Pierre, Martinique. Though at the time the cable was broken so that no news reached Jamaica, yet atmospheric conditions were such that all knew something had happened.
The people did not perish without warning; but every warning was unheeded. Danger was braved; and if any fears were expressed, they were sternly silenced by the authorities.
These warnings commenced as early as February, when many noticed that from Mount Pelee sulfurous smoke was emitted from time to time. In March clouds of smoke covered its summit. “Old Pelee is smoking again,” the inhabitants laughingly said to one another. April 22nd a light earthquake broke the cable to Dominica. On the 24th a cinder shower fell on the north part of the island. On the 28th growlings were heard, as if some mammoth beast were growling to escape from earth’s caverns, and from the beginning of May showers of cinders fell upon the island almost constantly.
Still the warnings were unheeded and few sought safety by flight!
How like the present generation! The judgment of a sin-hating God is surely nearing apace. Everything around us points to the closing up of things temporal. Society daily lives on in the fear of some fearful cataclysm, but their fears are calmed by those who whisper, “Peace, peace.”
Everything pointed to a great disturbance during those weeks preceding Pelee’s eruption. Steam arose from the crater. Bursts of flame, like lightnings, flashed at the summit. Boiling mud sweeping down the River Blanche completely submerged a large sugar plantation on the edge of St. Pierre, killing a number of persons.
People began to fear, but officials quieted them by saying the worst was over. A decrease of cinders seemed to lend truth to the statement, though many trees were broken by the weight of the ashes.
Business was too important for men to abandon their enterprises, and a company of scientists assured the populace that all was well. The governor too had arrived, and he sought to quell the people’s fears.
Alas for their false security! The people forgot their fears and gaily prepared for a great feast on Ascension Day. Suddenly, swiftly, and without opportunity to escape, 28,000 souls were swept into eternity.
At eight o’clock on the morning of May 8th, two mighty explosions rocked the island.
The blasts were heard distinctly in the nearby islands of St. Lucia and Dominica. An enormous black cloud with sheets of fire swept down the mountain, and the work of devastation was complete in less than one minute. The only person who escaped was a prisoner in a deep dungeon who, after four days of awful suspense, was rescued from his living tomb.
It is said that St. Pierre took pride in calling itself “the naughtiest city in the West Indies,” and resembled Paris in its gay night life. What a contrast today! All is a blackened ruin, desolated by that awful catastrophe! On every hand the wreck of former greatness seems to say: “Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.” Prov. 27:1.