THE BIRTH OF A VOLCANO 137 



the line of juncture of steam and water and saw a 

 curious red tinge upon a sloping rock. It was 

 badly blurred, however, and I carefully cleaned my 

 eye-pieces, and then saw that the red was fire and 

 the blur was movement — and in the full light of the 

 sun I watched an open artery of Mother Earth 

 pouring into the sea — rock liquid a^ blood. The 

 Galapagos were being born again. 



Even at this early stage I fortunately realized 

 that this wonderful denouement of the April out- 

 break was only two hours old, and I watched the 

 development and change of the various phases with 

 a far more appreciative appraisement than would 

 otherwise have been possible. 



For example, when we first passed close along 

 the whole front of eruption there were but six vents 

 or rivers of lava, but before we left there were 

 nine and a possible tenth. The outpouring steam 

 and gas was at first about what might result from 

 an enormous, shell-struck ammunition dump; the 

 next time we circled near, it had quadrupled, and 

 before dark it stretched out in a gradually enlarg- 

 ing cloud as far as the mid-slopes of Mount Whiton 

 — a distance of at least eight miles. 



Neither by day nor night was there any trace of 

 live surface lava nearer than a (mile to this coastal 

 outbreak. A geologist would have cahnly ex- 

 plained it as "An instructive example of an intru- 

 sive irruption changing into an extrusive eruption." 

 But all a geologist permits himself when comment- 

 ing on a volcanic eruption is the perfectly safe 

 statement, "When molten rock is forced to the sur- 



