How different it would have been if Susannah had never come to Vulcan Island!

It was the morning before the day the ship would leave and I decided to do some last-minute shopping. I came out of one of the shops in Elizabeth Street where I had been to buy some clothes for Anabel and as I emerged into the sunshine a voice said: "Good morning, Miss Mateland."

I turned and saw a young man whom I had never seen before. He took off his hat and bowed. "You don't remember me," he said. "I'm Michael Roston of Roston, Evans. My father, who used to look after your affairs, died three weeks ago and I've taken over from him."

I realized then that he thought I was Susannah. I hesitated.

I heard myself say: "I'm sorry."

"It was sudden," he went on. "A stroke. By the way, something has come in for you. I was going to put it on the ship and send it out to Vulcan Island. I presumed you were there still."

"I was waiting for the ship," I said.

"So you are going back again. Would you like to call in for the mail? You know where we are in Hunter Street. It's a bit of a climb up to the fourth floor. But the firm has been at 33 Hunter for so long. My father would never think of moving."

My heart was beating fast. The name registered very clearly in my mind, so the idea must have been there before I was aware of it. Mr. Michael Roston of Roston, Evans, number 33 Hunter Street on the fourth floor. It would be amusing to collect Susannah's mail and take it out to her.

"Look," I would say. "There must be a strong resemblance. I was accosted by a young man who thought I was you, and I decided to let him believe it and I've brought back your mail."

I said: "I'll collect the mail."

"Very well," he said.

"Perhaps I'll call sometime this afternoon."

"Yes, do. If I'm not there someone else will give it to you. I'll tell them you're coming."

"I'll do that and ... I'm very sorry about your father."

"We miss him. He had his fingers in everything. It's not always easy picking up the threads. But we shall keep our old connections of course and particularly with your people in England. We have worked with Carruthers, Gentle for over fifty years."

I thanked him and went back to the hotel. I did not notice now the graziers all intent on making negotiations about their wool.

I went straight to my room. I was considerably stimulated by the encounter.

I pulled off my hat. Yes, I did look like her. I felt like her. Important. Receiving letters from England through an Australian agent.

My little masquerade had enlivened my spirits.

That afternoon I collected the letters. I saw the young man again. This time I was more prepared for my role. I reminded myself that he had seen Susannah only once and then in passing. His father would have known at once that I was an impostor.

He chatted a little while. "And how are you liking Vulcan Island, Miss Mateland?"

"I find it interesting."

"I suppose you will be returning to England before the year is out."

"Perhaps."

"You must miss a great deal. My father was telling me about that wonderful castle which is your home."

"It's a beautiful place."

He asked a few questions about the island.

"I hear it has changed and, since the hospital has been built and the industry there is flourishing, it's becoming quite a civilized community."

"That is so," I replied.

"The Englishman who went there some years ago is to be congratulated, I hear. It's not the most promising spot. I believe it was all but destroyed by volcanic eruption once."

"That was three hundred years ago."

"Extinct now, I suppose."

I said that I must go as I had so much to prepare for the next day. I was afraid he was going to ask questions which it might be difficult for me to answer.

I took the mail to my room and stowed it away in a little hand case which I should carry with me.

I wondered what Susannah would say when I told her I had been mistaken for her in the streets of Sydney.

It was very hot on the day we sailed. I stood on the deck looking out on the magnificent harbor. I remained there as we went through the Heads and for long after the land had receded and we came out into the open sea.

Then I went to my cabin.

I longed to see my parents but in a way I dreaded getting back to the island. Susannah would be ready to leave. Poor Philip, would he want to go with her?

Oh, Susannah, I thought, why did you ever come to the island to disrupt our lives!

We had been at sea for several days, and the next afternoon we should sight the land. I was awakened in the night by a rocking of the ship. It was unusual on those seas.

When I went down to breakfast I was aware that something was wrong. People were talking together with that mixture of excitement and apprehension which indicated that something extraordinary was afoot.

I asked what was wrong.

"We can't find out. The ship started to rock. We've stopped because the more we go on the worse it becomes."

During the morning we noticed the strange smell in the air; it was acrid, sulphuric, and there was a cloud of smoke hanging in the sky.

Rumors spread through the ship.

I paused to talk to a woman who was leaning on the rail looking out to sea.

"They say it's volcanic action somewhere," she said. "One of the islands... ."

A terrible fear gripped me.

"Which one?" I cried. "Which one?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. They are all volcanic in this area."

I felt sick. I had visions of Cougabel's great limpid eyes heavy with prophecies. "Grumbling Giant not pleased... ."

A fatalistic certainty came to me. I knew that the Giant had ceased to grumble and give vent to his anger.

The captain was undecided what to do.

He had goods to deliver to the island and he was not absolutely sure which one was affected, and as the rocking of the ship had stopped he decided to venture farther.

I was on the deck. I was looking at the ruins of my home. I could see the mountain peak, flames shooting from it and smoke circling round it.

I went to the captain. "This is my home," I said. "I must go and see for myself."

"I can't let you go," he told me. "It's dangerous."

'It's my home," I repeated stubbornly.

"I am sending two boats ashore to see if there are any people in need of help."

"I'm going with them," I said.

"I'm afraid I can't allow it."

I kept saying: "It's my home, you know." He did know because he had captained the ship several times when I had gone back and forth from school.

"I can't let you go," he said.

"I shall swim then. You can't stop that. I've got to see for myself. My mother may be there ... my father... ."

He could see I was frantic with grief and apprehension.

"It's at your own risk," he said.

I stood there on that once beautiful island. I looked about me but could recognize little. The Giant remained, big and menacing, his sides burned black by the fiery streaks which he had spewed out over the fertile land. On what was left of the huts were strewn cinders and ashes. There were traces of hot pumice and glowing lava. It was dark, almost like night, but I saw that all that was left of the beautiful hospital was a heap of stones.

"Where are you?" I whispered. "Anabel ... Joel ... where are you? Philip, Susannah, Cougaba, Cougabel ... where?"

There were rivers of pasty mud over everything. The steam from the volcano had evidently condensed into rain and mixed with the light volcanic dust to form this paste. It had clearly flowed down from the slopes and smothered the little houses of the islanders.

Around the island were dust and stones which must have been blown out from the crater for miles around.

I could not believe it. It was a nightmare. I knew that nobody could survive such a cataclysmic experience.

It was lost ... everything. My whole life had been wiped away.

Why had I laughed at the Grumbling Giant? Why had we all? Why hadn't we listened to the warnings of the natives who knew far better than we did?

He had destroyed us in the end—destroyed my father and his hopes and dreams, my beloved mother, Cougaba, Cougabel, Susannah, Philip... .

I had been saved by some miracle in the form of Laura's wedding. But saved for what?

I was alone . . , desolate.

I wished that I had been there with them.

The captain looked at me with kindly eyes.

"There is nothing you can do. There's nothing any of us can do. You must return to Sydney with the ship."

My mind was a blank. I could not think of the future. I could think of nothing but that they were gone ... they were all dead.

I did not want to go back to Sydney. I wanted to stay there in that spot where we had all been so happy. I wanted to tunnel through the rubble. I wanted to look and look. "Just in case ..." I said to the captain.

He shook his head. "None could have survived. Where could they have gone to? Can you imagine what it would have been like?"

I shook my head and cried: "Tell me. Tell me."

He put his arm about me and tried to soothe me. "You mustn't distress yourself," he said.

"Not distress myself! My home ... all that I loved ... all that meant anything to me ... gone ... and I must not distress myself!"

He was silent and I went on: "Tell me what happened to them. Tell me what it would have been like for them."