The River Blanche flows down from Mont Pelee to the sea, midway between St. Pierre and the village of Precheur on the north. Near this stream stood the great Guerin sugar factory, with many valuable plantations around it. On May 5th it was noticed that the river was swelling and that its waters were of a black and gray color. Then the river rose with remarkable rapidity and began to boil, and the terror-stricken people near at hand saw that it was nothing more than a torrent of lava and mud from the mountain sweeping down to engulf them. On and on it came, leaping bridges and low-lying fields, and in a few minutes not only the buildings of the factory, but also the beautiful villas of the owners, the houses of the workmen, and trees and all living things were swallowed up. The ocean went down a distance of thirty or forty feet, leaving parts of the harbor bottom dry at Precheur and at St. Pierre, and then arose with tremendous force, sweeping the shipping about, smashing small craft of all kinds, and causing a rush of people to the hills. The alarm was now universal, and several meetings were held at St. Pierre and other places, to decide what was best to be done. The French war cruiser _Suchet_ was called into service, to make an examination and give all the relief possible. To add to the horror St. Pierre was plunged into darkness that night, the electric light plant failing to work. For two days the terror of the people continued, and now they were leaving, or trying to leave, as fast as they could make the necessary arrangements. Those who owned valuable property hated, of course, to give it up, and some said they would remain to the end, no matter what occurred. There were constant showers of dust, and muddy rains, and frequent rumblings as of thunder. Some parties that went out to explore in the vicinity of the mountain reported that all was chaos within three miles of Pelee, and that at some points the lava and mud lay to a depth of ten feet. The next day was Thursday, May 8th. It was Ascension Day, and early in the morning the cathedral in St. Pierre and the churches were open for divine service. A heavy cloud hung over Mont Pelee, that same cloud which those on board of the _Vendee_ saw and which caused poor Frank and Mark on their raft so much uneasiness. And then the great eruption. What the people of St. Pierre thought of that fearful outburst no one can tell, for out of that vast number, estimated at between twenty-five thousand to thirty-one thousand people, not a single person remained alive to tell the tale! Surely such an awful record is enough to sadden the hardest heart.