NT--CONDITION--ST. PIERRE--MARTINIQUE--FERGUS."

Two days later Stuart boarded the steamer for Martinique, the Island of
the Volcano.

CHAPTER XI

THE MORNING OF DOOM

"Ay," said the first mate to Stuart, as they paced the bridge on the
little steamer which was taking the boy to Martinique, "yonder little
island is St. Lucia, maybe the most beautiful of the West Indies, though
it isn't safe for folks to wander around much there."

"Why?" asked Stuart in surprise, "are the negroes mutinous?"

"No, bless ye!" the mate gave a short laugh. "Mighty nice folks in St.
Lucia, though Castries, the capital, is a great fever town. It isn't the
folks that are dangerous. Snakes, my bully boy, snakes! It's the home of
the fer-de-lance."

"The Yellow Viper?" queried Stuart.

"The same. An' the name's a good one. It's more viperous than any other
snake of the viper bunch, an' its disposition is mean and yellow right
through. Ever see one?"

"No," said Stuart, "I haven't. I heard there were some in Trinidad, and
there have been a few reported in Cuba. But I guess they're rare there.
What do they look like?"

The mate spat freely over the side, while he gathered his powers for a
description.

"If ye can think of a fish that's been a long time dead," he suggested,
"an' has turned a sort of phosphorescent brown-yellow in decayin', ye'll
have a general idea of the color. The head, like all the vipers, is low,
flat an' triangle-shaped. The eye is a bright orange color, an' so
shinin' that flashes from it look like sparks of red-yellow fire. I've
never seen them at night, but folks who have, say that in the dark the
eyes look like glowin' charcoal.

"If I had to take a walk through the St. Lucia woods, I'd put on armor,
I would! Why, any minute, something you take for a branch, a knot of
liana, a clump of fruit, a hangin' air-plant, may take life an' strike.
An' that's all ye'll ever know in this world."

"There's no cure for it?"

"None. A little while after a fer-de-lance strikes, ye're as dead as if
you'd been dropped in mid-Atlantic, with a shot tied to your feet."

"Maybe I'm just as glad I'm not going to land there," said Stuart,
"though I guess it's one of the most famous fighting spots of the world.
I read once that for a hundred and fifty years there was never a year
without a battle on that island. Seven times it was held by the English
and seven times by the French."

"Like enough," replied the mate. "I