The friend was Mr. Baylis Heynes, a British merchant of Messina, who represented the firm of Peirce Brothers. His house had been spared by the earthquake. After taking his wife and children to a villa outside of the town, he had hurried back without a thought for personal safety or comfort and had thrown himself into the work of saving lives and property. In the villa his wife was caring for more than fifty destitute Messinesi, with such little food and clothing as she could procure. Mr. Heynes meanwhile was indefatigable in the work of rescue; and his coolness and intelligence at a time when everyone else was excited and flustered had already proved of inestimable value. He now offered us his house for a consulate, and the large garden behind for a Red Cross hospital. They were situated at the extreme northern end of the town, more than two miles from the headquarter’s ships. But the house was solid and uninjured and the garden spacious; it was in fact the “Lawn Tennis Club” of Messina. We accepted gladly Mr. Heynes’ kind offer, and started back with him to inspect the premises. [Illustration: TEN WOUNDED. LYING BY THE RED CROSS STATION. RESCUED ON THE MORNING OF THE EIGHTH DAY AFTER THE EARTHQUAKE.] It was no longer morning. The sun had been shining brightly for many hours. The smell of the dead rose from the earth, unendurably penetrating. It floated across the Marina on a light shore breeze; then at places it became suddenly pungent, so pungent that you expected to tread upon the cause. The ruined masses beside us took on a new horror. Beneath them, close to the dead of whose presence we were unconscious, were thousands of living, whose only air was the air we smelt. How few the soldiers seemed, in comparison to the gigantic task of excavation! And why were they all away? Poor men, they needed their mid-day rest, perhaps the full three hours they were given; but could there not be twice as many, working in relays? AMERICAN CONSULATE. Mr. Heynes pointed out the Consulate—perhaps the largest, solidest, most hopeless mass of rubbish in the whole of Messina. Nothing deserving the name of an object was discernable in the whole pile, except the long flag-staff which protruded from the heap towards the street. The Consulate had been a corner house on a side street; surely we ought to be able to identify at least the remains of the stone arch which had marked the entrance to the street. But the mass was absolutely compact and uniform, obliterating every trace of an opening. It was not astonishing that the soldiers had left that particular pile unexcavated. Hundreds of men would be needed, for many days, to get to the bottom of the mound; and what chance was there, at the end, of finding a survivor? The fate of Dr. and Mrs. Cheney was already a tragic certainty; the best that could be hoped was that their death had been instantaneous. [Illustration: THE RUINS OF THE AMERICAN CONSULATE.]