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Mt. Pelée


The Greatest Volcanic Disaster of the Last Century

table of contents

By Duke Heath


A
t 8:00 A.M. on May 8, 1902, all hell broke loose in the city of St. Pierre as the volcano on Martinique tore itself apart and sent a pyroclastic flow into the city that killed 29,933 of the 29,935 residents. Some died of suffocation, others were barbecued alive, but only two survived. One of the survivors was a shoemaker and the other was a prisoner in solitary confinement inside a hill at one end of the city. The eruption of Mt. Pelée was the worst volcanic disaster of the twentieth century. Before this eruption, no one had ever heard of the term pyroclastic flow.

How fast did this tragedy occur? At 8:02 A.M., May 8, 1902 a businessman in Fort-de-France (an hours boat trip down the coast of Martinique) was talking on the telephone with a friend in Saint-Pierre. The businessman relates that his friend "...had just finished his sentence, when I heard a dreadful scream, then another much weaker groan, like a stifled death rattle." The city that had been known as `the Paris of the Antilles' had been swept from the face of the earth by a volcanic combination of heated gas, ash and rock, a pyroclastic flow, traveling at over 100km an hour.

The leaders of the city had for weeks been trying to convince the townspeople that nothing was going to happen. There was to be an election that week and they wanted everyone to be there to vote. There was also the Feast of Pentecost to celebrate. Even the Governor and his wife moved from Fort de France to St. Pierre to show everyone that there was nothing to fear.

Though tremors had been occurring often and gray ash had ban falling everywhere, this had happened many times in the past with no catastrophic result. The people were told that St. Pierre was too far away from the mountain to be in any danger and that there were two ravines between the city and the slopes of Pelée that would deflect the lava to the sea. But lava was not the problem for St. Pierre on that May morning. The hand of death on this day was the burning cloud that could leap ravines, skim across water and even destroy ships at anchor in the bay.

Eleven-year-old Jean Rhys, at her home in Dominica" was taken to a window by her mother and was shown the glow to the south and the failing ash. She stated, "My mother woke me and without saying anything led me to the window. There was a huge black cloud over Martinique. I couldn't ever describe that cloud, so huge and black it was, but I have never forgotten it. There was no moon, no stars, but the edges of the cloud were flame-colored and in the middle what looked to me like lightening flickered, never stopping. My mother said: `You will never see anything like this in your life again.'

The underwater telegraph cables connecting Dominica to Martinique had been cut the day before by earthquake activity. Dominica was totally without information of what had happened across the channel. It was the fishermen who brought the first news of the dreadful tragedy. "The Roseau fishermen went out very early, as they did in those days. They met the fishermen from Fort de France who knew" remembers Jean Rhys, "That was how we heard."

Hesketh Bell, heard the wailing of the people of Roseau as the news spread. "I was dressing for dinner, just now, when I suddenly heard a terrible cry rise almost simultaneously from all parts of town. A moment later my orderly rushed in exclaiming "Oh Sir! The whole town of St. Pierre has been destroyed today and everyone is dead.' It made my blood run cold, and it seemed impossible to grasp such a fact."

People immediately began asking why such a tragedy could be allowed to happen. "It was after this that the gossip started." recalls Jean Rhys, "That went on for years so I can remember it well.

St. Pierre, they said, was a very wicked city. It had not only a theater, but an opera house, which was probably wickeder still. Companies from Paris performed there. But worse was the behavior of the women who were the prettiest in the West Indies ... And that wasn't all. The last bishop who had visited the city had taken off his shoes and solemnly shaken them over it. After that of course, you couldn't wonder."