An hour afterwards the boiling lava filled the corral, converting into vapor the water of the little rivulet which ran through it, burning up the house like dry grass, and leaving not even a post of the palisade to mark the spot where the corral once stood.

To contend against this disaster would have been folly—­nay, madness.  In presence of Nature’s grand convulsions man is powerless.

It was now daylight—­the 24th of January.  Cyrus Harding and his companions, before returning to Granite House, desired to ascertain the probable direction this inundation of lava was about to take.  The soil sloped gradually from Mount Franklin to the east coast, and it was to be feared that, in spite of the thick Jacamar Wood, the torrent would reach the plateau of Prospect Heights.

“The lake will cover us,” said Gideon Spilett.

“I hope so!” was Cyrus Harding’s only reply.

The colonists were desirous of reaching the plain upon which the superior cone of Mount Franklin had fallen, but the lava arrested their progress.  It had followed, on one side, the valley of Red Creek, and on the other that of Falls River, evaporating those watercourses in its passage.  There was no possibility of crossing the torrent of lava; on the contrary, the colonists were obliged to retreat before it.  The volcano, without its crown, was no longer recognizable, terminated as it was by a sort of flat table which replaced the ancient crater.  From two openings in its southern and eastern sides an unceasing flow of lava poured forth, thus forming two distinct streams.  Above the new crater a cloud of smoke and ashes, mingled with those of the atmosphere, massed over the island.  Loud peals of thunder broke, and could scarcely be distinguished from the rumblings of the mountain, whose mouth vomited forth ignited rocks, which, hurled to more than a thousand feet, burst in the air like shells.  Flashes of lightning rivaled in intensity the volcano’s eruption.

Towards seven in the morning the position was no longer tenable by the colonists, who accordingly took shelter in the borders of Jacamar Wood.  Not only did the projectiles begin to rain around them, but the lava, overflowing the bed of Red Creek, threatened to cut off the road to the corral.  The nearest rows of trees caught fire, and their sap, suddenly transformed into vapor, caused them to explode with loud reports, while others, less moist, remained unhurt in the midst of the inundation.

The colonists had again taken the road to the corral.  They proceeded but slowly, frequently looking back; but, in consequence of the inclination of the soil, the lava gained rapidly in the east, and as its lower waves became solidified others, at boiling heat, covered them immediately.

Meanwhile, the principal stream of Red Creek Valley became more and more menacing.  All this portion of the forest was on fare, and enormous wreaths of smoke rolled over the trees, whore trunks were already consumed by the lava.