CHAPTER XXIII.EARTHQUAKES.

JORULLO.

an immense bubble to the height of sixteen hundred feet. Imagine the astonishment of the natives when morning showed them a mountain where the night before was a level plain! It almost seemed as though some magic had transported them to another land. Smoke and ashes spouted forth; five smaller cones were thrown up, theleast of which was three hundred feet in height. The plain was dotted with thousands of small conical mounds, called by the nativeshornitos, or ovens. Each emitted vapor for a time; but at length all the upheavals, save Jorullo, ceased action, though the plain remained so hot as to be uninhabitable for many years. Jorullo continued to throw out lava several months, and has been in more moderate action ever since.

In some respects the terrible outbreak of Skaptar Jokul has been several times exceeded. While almost alone in the immense quantity of lava thrown out, we have seen that great streams of lava are not accompanied by the most violent explosions. In the number of lives destroyed, Skaptar has also been exceeded; but if Iceland had been as densely populated as Ireland, which it equals in area, the convulsion might have destroyed half a million or more.

One of the best examples of the force of steam on a smaller scale is seen in the eruptions of volcanoes, is to be found in the geysers of Iceland. These lie in a strip of ground one hundred yards wide and about a quarter of a mile in length. The ground is dotted with numerous dark apertures and conical mounds, from which clouds of steam ascend continually. Of these the Little Geyser is no longer active, being merely a pool of still, hot water. The Great Geyser is periodically active, and the Strokr, or Churn, may be excited at any time by throwing a quantity of earth into it. As a matter of course, these boiling springs never do any damage, the quantity of water thrown out being of no consequence. The water holds in solution a vast quantity of silicious matter, which is deposited around the mouth of the geyser, forming sometimes a saucer-shaped basin, sometimes a nippleshaped mound. From the rate at which the deposits aremade, it is estimated that the Great Geyser is about ten hundred and sixty years old.

One of the most tremendous outbursts of which we have any authentic account occurred in the island of Sumbawa. It is one of the Molucca islands; and the mountain from which the outbreak occurred is called Tomboro.

GEYSER.

“This eruption commenced on the 5th of April, 1815, but was most terrific on the 11th and 12th of that month; nor did it cease entirely until some time in the following July. The explosion so much resembled the firing ofheavy cannon at a distance that the people of many vessels at sea supposed there was a great naval engagement within hearing, but could not imagine what nations were engaged.

“The commanders of some ships, and several English forts, gave orders to prepare for battle, though they were several hundred miles distant from the mountain. At Sumatra these tremendous explosions were distinctly heard, though not nearer than nine hundred and seventy miles from Tomboro. They were also heard at Ternate, in the opposite direction from Sumatra, at the distance of seven hundred and twenty miles from the mountain.

“So immense in quantity was the fall of ashes, that at Bima, forty miles from the mountain, the roof of the English resident’s house was crushed by the weight, and many other houses in the same town were rendered uninhabitable from the same cause. At Java, three hundred miles distant, the air was so full of ashes that from this cause, at mid-day, it is said, the darkness was so profound that nothing like it had ever before been experienced during the most stormy night.

“Along the coast of Sumbawa the sea was covered with floating lava, intermixed with trees and timber, so that it was difficult for vessels to sail through the mass. Some captains, though at a long distance at sea, mistook this mass for land, and sent out their boats in order to ascertain the safety of their situations. The sea, on this and the neighboring coast, rose suddenly to the height of twelve feet, in the form of immense waves, and, as they retired, swept away trees, timber, and houses with their inhabitants. All the vessels lying near the shore were torn from their anchoring and cast upon the land. Violent whirlwinds carried into the air, men, horses, cattle, trees, and whatever else was in the vicinity of the mountain. Large treeswere torn up by the roots and carried into the sea. But the most calamitous part of the account still remains; for such were the tremendous effects of the burning lava—the overflowing of the sea, the fall of houses, and the violence of the whirlwind, that, out of twelve thousand inhabitants on this island, only twenty-six individuals escaped with their lives, all the rest being destroyed in one way or another.

“The whole island was completely covered with ashes, or other volcanic matter. In some places the bottom of the sea was so elevated as to make shoals where there was deep water before; and in others, the land sunk down and was overflown by the sea. Adding those who were killed on other islands, the total death roll was over twenty thousand.”

This entire region is one of wonderful activity. Mount Api, in the island of Banda, in the same group, has had twelve violent eruptions in two hundred and thirty-four years; and, indeed, it is hardly ever really quiet. The volcano of Abo, in the island of Sanguir, broke out in 1711, burying a large number of villages in cinders, covering extensive areas of forest and plain, and destroying many thousands of people. This same volcano burst forth suddenly in March, 1856, vomiting torrents of mud, streams of lava, and clouds of ashes and scoria, doing almost as much mischief as on the former occasion. In the island of Timor, a gigantic volcano, long known as the Peak, began a violent eruption in 1638. When the convulsion was over the mountain had disappeared; partly blown away, partly sunken, and the site is to this day covered by a great lake.

But the center of this great volcanic region lies in the island of Java, which possesses about fifty craters, half of them still active. The heat and vapors poured out, combined with the power of the sun, combine to make this oneof the most noted tempest regions in the world. Nowhere else are such terrific thunder-storms so common; and more than twenty water spouts are sometimes seen at one time.

One of the most remarkable eruptions of modern times is that of Papandayang, in this island, which occurred in 1772. The mountain burst forth suddenly, with a tremendous roaring. Cinders and ashes were almost insignificant. Immense boulders were hurled about the neighboring regions. The mountain was veiled in a cloud of glowing vapor. A tract of land seventeen miles long and seven miles wide, with over forty villages, was swallowed up. Several thousand people perished. When the cloud finally vanished it was found that four thousand feet of the upper portion of the mountain had been blown away. The broad, ragged mass remaining was of little more than one-half the original height. Two other mountains in the island were in action at the same time; while several intervening active cones remained quiet. Mt. Guntur, in the same island, has had a number of violent eruptions. The last, occurring in 1800, sent forth in addition to lava streams, a torrent of white, acid, sulphurous mud, which swept a populous and fertile valley, engulfing hundreds of men and animals in its course. We shall notice by and by a still more remarkable Javanese convulsion.

Time would fail were details to be given of the numerous volcanoes of Sumatra and Celebes and the adjacent islands, or of the eruptions and boiling springs of New Zealand, or the towering cones of New Guinea, or of the peaks of the Canary, Cape Verde and Azores. Let us notice briefly a few of the more noted volcanoes of America.

Our own land is free, for the most part, from such disturbances; the only recorded outbreaks being those ofRainier and St. Helens, in 1842. But in prehistoric times it had numerous volcanic areas. The Raton peaks in New Mexico once sent out lava streams that spread over the country between the Upper Arkansas and Canadian rivers; and St. Helens, Hood, Edgecombe, Baker, Rainier, Fair Weather and Shasta, are cones well known to the western tourist. These, except Hood and Shasta, are still active.

But better known examples of great internal heat are found in the hot springs of different portions of the country; though these merely show the existence of subterranean heat, and afford no conception of its power or violence. Quite as famous is the famous geyser basin of the Yellowstone. Here is a region surpassing greatly the geyser district of Iceland, both in area, and in the number and power of the geysers. The whole region is pierced with fumaroles, around which sulphur and other minerals crystalize in beautiful forms; and steam jets break through the soil in countless places. Certain of the geysers are exceedingly periodic; and others, like the Strokr of Iceland, may be incited to action at almost any time by casting in earth or stones. The more powerful of these “toy volcanoes” send water to a height of four hundred feet.

In the southern portion of the continent and in South America we find a region of remarkable activity. Central America has had several violent convulsions at a comparatively recent period. The volcano of Las Virgines, in Lower California, had a great eruption in 1746; but the country being sparsely peopled, little harm was done, and the fact of the eruption was made known by the light and clouds seen from vessels at sea, and the ashes and cinders that fell in the adjacent regions of Mexico.

If eruptions be measured by the violence of explosions,

THE YELLOWSTONE PARK.

then the famous outburst of Cosequina must rank among the greatest, if not itself the greatest, that is known to history. The narrative of its eruption, as related by an eye-witness, seems almost beyond belief; but the facts are too well authenticated. The extent of the destruction of life, though certainly reaching many hundreds, was never definitely known. The personal narration serves to show the fearful impressions made upon those who experience such awful convulsions:

“The wonder to me is how any man could live through such a burst as Cosequina’s in San Salvador. ’Twas the 21st of January, 1835—as fine a morning as ever was seen on earth. The Bay of Fonseca was smooth as silk; never a cloud in the sky. The lazy folks of Playa Grande and Nagascolo were lying in the hammocks beside the doors, smoking and dozing, and not a soul had a notion of ill from any side on that sunny morning, which was to be the last for half of them. They lay in hammocks and smoked and dozed like worthless cusses, as they are; and most of ’em, no doubt, had full in sight the big mountain on t’other side the gulf. They’d nigh forgot to call it a volcano. Not for a thousand years, as the Indians told, had smoke or mischief come from that hill; they’d ha’ laughed silly any one as had talked danger from Cosequina.

“At ten o’clock that morning that mountain burst out again, and in a fury such as never yet was known in the upper world—no, nor ever will be again, asIbelieve, till the last day. Suddenly it burst out—not muttering beforehand, nor smoking—but crash! all on the moment, as if to remind men what evil power was yet left in nature to destroy them. At ten o’clock that day the voice of the mountain was heard after one thousand years’ silence—in such a thunderous roar was it heard that beast and birdfell dead with the sound alone, and great cliffs pitched headlong into the sea! There’s thousands still alive to witness. For a while the streets of Playa Grande and Nagascolo must have seemed like streets of the dead; for every soul was stunned. Folks were lying in their hammocks or on the floor, motionless and senseless as corpses. The sky was still bright and blue, but on the mountain side was a cloud like ink, which rolled down like a cap to the foot. Naught afterwards seemed so horrible as the sudden heaping of that jet black mound in the place of the sunny, green hill.

“But it didn’t long offend any man’s sight—over heaven and sea the cloud opened and spread. Lightning and thunders burst from the heart of the ocean, and sheets of flame glared luridly the sides of Cosequina. The darkness spread so quick, that at Leon, two hundred miles away, they were lighting the church candles within an hour after the outbreak. But candles, nor torches, nor houses aflame couldn’t disperse that darkness. For three days no soul in Leon saw another’s face, nor ventured out but to the howling churches, to grovel there. Night dragged after night, but no day shone over the land. A lighted torch could not be seen at arm’s length! The ashes fell softly and silently, till buildings crushed down headlong with the weight. Tigers were in the churches, and panthers entered house doors in search of companionship and protection. Hundreds committed suicide in their madness, and hundreds more became simple for life. Men’s faces were blistered by the hot winds; the paint fell from the statues; the crash of falling, and the faint light of burning houses doubled the horror of darkness. Such a time as that was never seen on earth since the plague of Egypt, I guess!

“But of course the most awful work was around the Gulf of Fonseca. The water rose in waves twenty feethigh, dashed over the Estero, and swept off the towns of Playa Grande and Nagascolo, slick as a prairie fire. Scarce a soul escaped for twenty miles about. The cattle crushed over the barrancas in search of water, and were destroyed in herds of thousands at a time; for none could see, nor hear, nor breathe. Rivers were dried by the heat, and choked with ashes; forests burned up; the very grass withered throughout the whole length and breadth of Nicaragua, and hasn’t sprung since.Sacate(‘a broad flag-like blade’) alone escaped, and the country which was once the grazing land of Central America was ruined till eternity, for that business.

“During this time of death, as they still call it, at Balize, one thousand miles away, the commandant called out the garrison, and kept them under arms twenty-four hours, thinking all the navies in the universe were at action in the offing. There ’twas too dark to see fifty yards oceanwards. The roar of Cosequina was heard miles around, spreading fear and perplexity. Four thousand miles in radius the ashes fell; they lay on the roofs at San Francisco, California.

“Well, the mountain’s behaved like a decent sort of powder-cask ever since. The fuse has always been burning and spitting; but you see there’s a big consumption of power in such a burst, and I guess the old machine wants to recuperate awhile.”

Those familiar with the terrific effects produced on the gunners by the discharge of heavy artillery, can understand that the atmospheric concussion produced by tremendous volcanic explosions might kill large numbers of birds and small animals in the vicinity.

As to the distance to which ashes may be carried, a late eruption in Iceland was announced by a Professor in Germany long before any vessel brought the news. Theatmosphere was unusually full of dust which, on examining with a microscope, he pronounced to be pulverized Iceland lava. The detonations of Cosequina were heard over the peninsula of Yucatan, along the shores of Jamaica, eight hundred miles distant, and as far as Bogota in South America—nearly ten thousand feet above the sea. Ashes fell on vessels twelve hundred miles westward at sea. Fortunately the eruption was soon over.

Another unusual outbreak occurred in Central America from the volcano of Leon in 1867, beginning November 27. First there were a number of violent explosions, which shook the earth for a great distance. Immense quantities of black sand were then thrown out, and a column of vapor and fire, filled with meteor-like specks, was hurled to a height of three thousand feet. Closer observation showed the “specks” to be rocks four or five feet in diameter, and weighing thousands of pounds. The showers of sand lasted three days, covering the earth for fifty miles around. The forest for leagues was scarred by the swift-falling showers of sand and stones; and for half a mile around the cone the trees were leveled to the ground.

Central America contains twenty-nine volcanoes, eighteen of which are active. Twenty cones are in sight from the town of Leon. One cone, Izalco, suddenly manifested signs of activity, but no eruption took place. But the sudden heating rapidly melted the snow on the mountain, and the torrents of water inundated the town of Guatemala, destroying thousands of dollars worth of property, besides many lives. The mountain has since been known as “Agua,” or water.

South America is noted for the frequency and extreme violence of its earthquakes; of which more hereafter. Though possessing a greater number of very lofty volcaniccones than any other region, the direct effect of its eruptions have not been so disastrous as the results of many eruptions elsewhere. There is but one very notable exception; the earthquake that destroyed Riobamba in 1794 was followed at once by an outpour of mud from Tunguragua, which overwhelmed forty thousand people, still dazed by the shock, or struggling in the ruins of their villages.

One notable incident is the continual subterranean roaring heard for a considerable period over twenty-three hundred square miles of Northern Venezuela, a number of years ago, during a violent outpour of lava from the volcano of St. Vincent, an island six hundred and twenty-three miles to the northeast. No motion of the earth was perceptible. It has been supposed that the noise was merely the roar of St. Vincent conveyed through the crust of the earth; but this would raise the question as to why the same noise was not audible at points nearer to St. Vincent? Another suggestion is that the source from which the lava of St. Vincent was derived lay beneath Northern Venezuela; and a fact brought in support of this is, that the great earthquake of Caracas was immediately followed by action at St. Vincent. Similarly, the great eruption of Cotopaxi, in 1744, was attended by subterranean rumbling at Honda, four hundred and thirty-six miles away, and eighteen thousand and one hundred feet lower. Between are the colossal mountains of Pasto, Pichincha and Popayan, with countless valleys and ravines.

The cone of Cotopaxi is the smoothest and most symmetrical in the world; perhaps because its eruptions are almost entirely of ashes or fragmentary lava. As no villages lie in its immediate neighborhood, the clouds of ashes have not done so much damage as might be expected.

The first sign of an eruption is the melting of the snow upon the cone. Torrents of water sweep down the mountain. Such an outbreak occurring in 1741, after two centuries repose, the amount of snow accumulated may be imagined. The rush of the water tore away blocks of lava, ice and scoria; the plain below was covered with dashing waves. Twelve miles from the mountain the waters still had a velocity of fifty-six feet per second, or about two-thirds of a mile a minute. Escape from such a current would be impossible. Six hundred houses were swept away and one thousand people destroyed. The sides of the cone glowed in the night with a reddish light. Cotopaxi also had a great eruption in 1533, which hurled lava blocks containing one hundred and thirty cubic yards to a distance of nine miles. Such masses would weigh more than two hundred and eighty tons. Such feats will serve to give clearer ideas of the immense power of volcanic action.

Perhaps a statement of the force required to raise a column of lava would interest the reader. Lava being about twenty-eight times as heavy as water, a column of it eleven and three-sevenths feet high, and one inch square, would weigh fifteen pounds. Then to raise lava to the tops of various volcanic cones would require pressure or initial velocity as follows:

When we remember that our powerful steam engines are operated by pressures varying from one hundred and twenty to two hundred pounds per square inch, it is evident we can have no adequate conception of the magnitude of a force of twenty-seven thousand pounds to the square inch. And yet such a power must be but a tithe of the force exerted; for it represents only the force necessary to throw the lava from the surface to the tops of the mountains; whereas the lava reservoirs are far beneath the surface. Also, the above calculation considers only the mere weight of the lava; it allows nothing for the resistance of cohesion, friction, or a heavy crust to be often burst through. When we consider all these, each of which must far surpass the weight of the single column of lava, it is evident that the pressure that can hurl lava blocks of two hundred and eighty tons nine miles from a mountain must reach a million pounds per square inch. These are meaningless figures. Human thought cannot grasp so stupendous a power.

Perhaps the best known of the great volcanoes are those of the Sandwich Islands. We find there the largest extinct crater in the world. The great dead crater of Haleakala, in East Maui, is thirty miles in circumference. The crater of Kilauea, on the flank of Mauna Loa, is about seven miles in circumference. Several great eruptions have occurred in these islands during the past fifty years; and in one of these convulsions the volume of lava poured out was at least equal to the great outburst of Skaptar Jokul in Iceland. And when we consider the frequent recurrence of the Hawaiian eruptions, it at once appears that in this region lies the greatest lava producer on the globe.

But in regard to destruction of life or property, there has so far been no more harmless region in the world.There are two reasons: The lava poured out is very liquid, and cools slowly; hence a cone formed from it has a very gradual slope. The actual grade of Mauna Loa is but five or six degrees. So a lava stream descends it very slowly; and the light on the mountain warns the people of the outbreak. The shore region is the only one inhabited, the interior being covered with dense forests. So the lava may burn a path directly through to the sea, and yet do no great damage to the interests of the people. The greatest damage done to the island has not been from an outpour of lava, but from earthquakes and sea-waves. The great eruption of 1868 was accompanied by continual shocks—two thousand being felt in a fortnight, and numerous tidal waves being produced; yet the total fatality was but one hundred, and nearly all of these were old or weak persons who were unable to swim well enough to escape from waves that overtook them. A few were overwhelmed by a torrent of soft, red clay that broke from a fissure in the mountain. Cliffs and crags were thrown down by the earthquakes, and the top of one hill was thrown one thousand feet. The lava stream reached the sea at Nanawale, fifty miles from its source, and pushed three-fourths of a mile into the sea.

Again, in an eruption in 1880, two lava streams poured out toward the town of Hilo; and though the great crater continued in full blast, it was nine months before the people could be sure whether the streams would destroy the town or not. At length the lava was within five minutes walk of the town. Many collected their chattels and left. Then the action on the mountain suddenly subsided; and in a few days the “great red dragon” lay stiff and cold, almost at the people’s doors.

Since the natives build their houses almost invariably of one story and of the lightest materials, earthquakes cando comparatively little damage to most property. Hence, with all the activity of the great volcanoes, the inhabitants are far more secure than those of many other regions apparently not so dangerous. Persons may readily visit the great crater in eruption, though at full blast; and excursion parties are organized to visit this “Niagara of fire” on every occasion of unwonted activity. Nowhere else in the world can volcanic action on the grandest scale be so carefully observed.

The details given hitherto will serve to illustrate the terrible havoc wrought by subterranean forces. So far only outpouring of volcanic matter has been especially noticed. But ere examining the terribly destructive force of earthquakes alone, it is meet that the story of the tremendous eruptions of the century be closed with the story of the greatest of the age; and indeed, when all details are considered, it may rank as the most tremendous convulsion of all history. In certain details, Skaptar may have exceeded it: in destruction of life. Ætna surpassed it in 1669; but as a whole, it is simply without a parallel.

The reader will rightly judge that such a convulsion could hardly occur elsewhere than in the Malayan archipelago. Already the terrible outburst in Sumbawa has been noted; also several others in Java.

Java and Sumatra formerly formed a single island, but were separated by a terrific earthquake in 1115. Shocks are felt in one of the two islands nearly every month. The list of calamities occurring there during the past hundred years is appalling. Besides the convulsions before noted, an eruption of Galung-gung, in 1822, overwhelmed one hundred and fourteen villages and destroyed four thousand people. In 1843 Mt. Guntur cast forth 30,000,000 tons of ashes, doing immense injury to life and property. In 1867 there was a tremendous earthquakewhich killed many thousands in the interior of the island, and dried up or greatly obstructed the water courses. Immediately afterward the volcano of Gunung-Salak ejected such a quantity of cinders and lava that the work of obliterating or obstructing the streams was complete. The cess-pools and marshes bred pestilence and epidemics, which have carried off from Batavia alone nearly a million of inhabitants in the past twenty-two years. In 1872 the volcano of Mirapi burst out and destroyed several thousand people in the province of Kadu. Sixteen severe earthquakes were felt in 1878, and another one in 1879.

At length, in 1883, Krakatoa, a volcano on a small island in the Straits of Sunda, in the very center of the greatest subterranean furnace on the globe, began to manifest some uneasiness. As in the case of Cosequina, people had almost forgotten to call it a volcano. And when the mountain muttered and fired a little in February, they regarded it with some curiosity, and then, when it quieted down, thought no more about it.

On the 25th of August the people of Batavia heard peculiar subterranean mutterings, as they thought, but the roar increased till it might have been compared to a battery of fortress artillery. An avalanche of stones and ashes began to fall, and continued all night. Krakatoa had begun.

By morning it was impossible for Batavians to reach the Straits of Sunda. The bridges were down and the roads impassable. The waters of the straits were in fearful turmoil. Explosions beneath the sea followed each other in rapid succession. The waters were sixty degrees hotter than usually. The rebounding waves were dashing upon Madura, five hundred miles away, mountains high.

CATTLE IN VOLCANIC MUD.

The dance of death had hardly begun. Louder and louder roared Krakatoa; ere noon, Maha-Meru, the greatest of Javanese volcanoes, had joined in. Then Gunung-guntur opened; others rapidly followed, till fifteen volcanoes of Java were in eruption; most of them in full blast. The awful scene was beyond description. Krakatoa could still be heard thundering above all the rest.

Before nightfall Gunung-guntur, the greatest active crater in the world, four miles in diameter, was spouting enormous streams of lava and sulphurous mud. Tremendous explosions followed with showers of cinders and stones, as though the old giant were endeavoring to out-do the leader of the dance. Terrible was the slaughter by the flying fragments.

The sea was more violently agitated. Dense clouds of hot, sulphurous vapors, charged with electricity, hung over the waters, and added whirlwinds and thunderstorms to the scene. Fifteen large waterspouts could be seen at one time.

On the shore, men, women and children ran wildly about. There was no safety upon sea or land. Houses were crumbling, the atmosphere darkening, the storm increasing. Hundreds of people were buried beneath ruined houses. Hundreds more were struck down in their flight. Immense crevices opened and swallowed; huge waves rushed inland and devoured. It seemed as though Java were to buried, with a rain of fire, in the unfathomable depths of the sea.

Towards midnight, it seemed as though the Prince of Darkness might be present in person to direct the work of destruction. “A luminous cloud far more colossal than that which had appeared above Gunung-guntur, gathered above the chain of the Kandangs, which run along the southeast coast of Java. This cloud increased in size eachminute, until at last it came to form a sort of a gray and blood-red color, which hung over the earth for a considerable distance.

“In proportion as this cloud grew the eruption gained fresh force, and the floods of lava poured down the mountain sides without ceasing, and spread into the valleys, where they swept all before them. On Monday morning about two o’clock, the heavy cloud suddenly broke up, and finally disappeared. When the sun rose, it was found that a tract of country extending from Point Capucine to the south as far as Negery Passoerang, to the north and west, and covering an area of about fifty square miles, had entirely disappeared.

“There stood the previous day the villages of Negery, and Negery Babawang. Not one of the inhabitants had escaped. They and their villages had been swallowed up by the sea. The population was not so dense in this part of the island as in others, but for all this the total number of victims fell little short of fifteen thousand.

“The chain of the Kandangs, which runs along the coast of Java in a semi-circle for sixty-five miles, had also disappeared.

“The waters of Welcome Bay, in the Strait of Sunda, those of Pepper Bay to the east, and those of the Indian Ocean to the south, had burst in upon the country, where they formed a raging torrent.”

All the furies of the deeps of earth and sea seemed freed to work their will and wreak their wrath. The great Papandayang now joined in the chaos. The cannon-like reports could be heard fifty miles away.

Then Sumatra was infected with the wild fury. From one of her volcanoes three columns of lava shot up from three different places, and three leaping red streams of lava dashed forth for the plains below. The mountain hurledafter them showers of stones. Volumes of black dust flew after, making thick, stifling darkness which could be felt. Banks of ashes lay upon the roofs of houses, or muffled the city streets. A tornado hurried by, bearing stones, dust, roofs, trees, houses, and men.

In Java the fierce Papandayang burst open. From the seven great fissures the lava in its basin plunged out and reached for miles from the mountain’s base. On the site of the island of Merak, which was swallowed up by the sea, the next day fourteen volcanic mountains sprang up, forming a chain from St. Nicholas Point, Java, to Hoga Point, in Sumatra.

In Batavia and Anjer were three thousand five hundred European residents; eight hundred of these never saw the light again. An overwhelming avalanche of rock, mud, and lava, poured upon their quarter in Anjer; then the sea leaped upon those struggling in the ruins and swept away all. Not so much as a trace of them was left. Two thousand inhabitants perished, besides a large number of fugitives from other quarters. Bantam was submerged, and one thousand five hundred people drowned. Waves dashed completely over the island of Serang, and not a single inhabitant escaped. The storms of rock and lava numbered their victims at Cheribon, and at several noted pleasure resorts.

The great temple of Boro-Buddor was ruined, its dome being beaten in by the showers of rock. This is a most deplorable architectural loss. It was the largest Buddhist Temple in the east, and had no equal in the world. Erected eleven hundred years ago, it stood on an eminence in a circular valley. It had a great central dome one hundred and forty-five feet high, surrounded by seventy smaller domes. On the platforms beneath were four hundred and fifty chapels, cut in openwork out of granite, and eachhaving a statue of Buddha. The walls of the temple contained a complete picture-history of Buddha, there being four thousand beautifully chased bas-reliefs. Not a stone was left uncarved. The great chapel under the central dome was reached by a series of four grand staircases of five hundred feet each. No other structure is comparable to it. A few may be even more splendid; but it was decidedlysui generis.

The list of calamities grew rapidly. The town of Tamarang was devoured by the lava. Red-hot stones fired many houses. Eighteen hundred people perished. The island of Onius was terribly shaken and then plunged into the sea. The island of Midah was swallowed up. No one escaped. The lighthouses on Sunda Strait were wrecked. The town of Tjeringen was destroyed with ten thousand people. Nine hundred people perished at Waronge. Three hundred corpses were dug from the ruins of Talatoa. The river Jacatana was blocked with lava and ashes, and leaving its bed poured through Batavia.

The island of Merak, a fortified place three miles from Krakatoa, was a valuable Government stone quarry, six or seven years in use. Thousands of native workmen were assembled there, with engineers and overseers. Their huts were on hills one hundred and fifty feet above the sea. The end of the season was at hand. The 1st of September would see them returning to their Java homes. The island trembled, paused—sank slowly—the sea plunged over it. Two natives and an European bookkeeper escaped.

A steamer put out from the port of Telok Betong. Two inches of lava lay upon her deck. Pumice stone lay ten feet deep on the sea around her. When but a short distance out “we saw a gigantic wave of prodigious height suddenly advancing upon us at great speed from the

CONVULSION ON THE COAST OF SUMATRA.

direction of the open sea. Immediately the captain brought his vessel round so as to meet the wave stern foremost. After a moment of most piquant anxiety, we found ourselves lifted up with terrific speed; our vessel bounded upward, and then we felt ourselves plunged into the abyss. But the wave had passed us and we were out of all danger. Like a high mountain the gigantic wave sped furiously towards the shore, while immediately after three other great waves followed it. The waters rushed in and destroyed the town, sweeping away first the light house, which fell in like a pack of cards, then all the buildings beyond. In a few moments all was over, and where once Telok Betong stood there was nothing but water.”

Livid with terror, the captain steamed rapidly to warn the town of Anjer. There was no longer an Anjer, a Dutch fort, a garrison. A single sailor, who had caught a floating tree, stalked about among the corpses.

Krakatoa, which had opened this fearful carnival of death, sank slowly into the sea. Of the island, twenty-five miles long and seventeen wide, a small portion of the terribly shattered cone remained in sight. New islets were made; vast shoals created. Sailors discovered new islands and landed, only to find themselves on vast floating pumice rafts, miles from land. New charts had to be made. For a time the seas were hardly navigable.

Such is the story. The damage to property was millions of dollars. The loss of life will never be definitely known. First estimates placed it at 80,000. Conservative judges pronounced it in all probability between 50,000 and 60,000.

The explosions were heard as far away southward as Australia; to the westward as far as Southern India; to the eastward, they are said to have been heard in the Caribbean Sea. Even if we reject the latter, we may takethe others, and obtain some idea by imagining volcanoes at St. Louis to be heard at New York and San Francisco, at Mexico and in Hudson’s Bay.

The great sea wave rushed from Krakatoa to the Mauritius in eight hours. It rolled around the coasts of the Australian continent, dashing into the southern harbors, sweeping through the narrow Bass Straits. It rose and fell upon Hawaiian coasts in a perplexing manner. It surged against South America; against East Africa; it rounded Cape Horn and made itself known on the coasts of France, upon our Atlantic shore. It encircled the world—the greatest sea wave ever known.

The volcanic, microscopic dust remained long in the air, and occasioned the singular redness of the sky at morn and eve that prevailed throughout the world for the next two years. Apart from this suspended dust, the volcano threw out as much matter as the Mississippi bears to the gulf in two hundred and fifty years.

The atmospheric wave of low barometer was even more marked than the oceanic wave. On the day when Krakatoa sank into the sea, the barometric oscillation was noticed all over the world. From the time at which it reached Berlin, it is found to have travelled eight hundred and seventy-five miles an hour. Thirty-six hours later the barometric oscillations were repeated, but less pronounced. Thirty-seven hours afterward there came a third, and still fainter series. It appears, then, that the atmospheric wave, set in motion by this stupendous outbreak, was powerful enough to thrice encircle the world.

It has been but a short time since geologists believed the magnitude of the subterranean forces to be greatly decreased; but in view of a century of great eruptions closed by such an appalling convulsion, it must be said that the fiery forces are at least as active and powerful as ever.

“Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forthIn strange eruptions: and the teeming earthIs with a kind of colic pinched and vexedBy the imprisoning of unruly windWithin her womb; which for enlargement striving,Shakes the old beldam earth, and topples downSteeples and moss-grown towers.”

SUCH is the theory of earthquakes as laid down by “Wild Will Shakespeare.” Whether it be an expression of the popular belief of the day, or a personal opinion, is not easy to determine. If the latter, he had, as we shall see by and by, many predecessors in the same belief. His metaphor, though more elegantly expressed, cannot compare with the Indian’s for terseness and force: “Ground heap sick—heap belly ache—no good!”

We have already seen that the forces producing earthquakes and volcanic action are conceded to be practically identical. The latter seldom occurs without the former; but the former are frequent in districts far removed from any known vent of subterranean heat. So the expression of Shakespeare is not so far wrong as might be, so far as our present knowledge goes.

In the Hindoo cosmogony successive ages of the world are separated by periods of chaos; and no wilder image of unreined destruction has fancy ever dreamed. The earth is to be eternal. There is one eternal, invisible spirit, Brahm, from whom springs Brahma, who creates a race of gods. These frame the earth into orderly condition, and rule it for four hundred thousand years. At the end of thattime, the land and sea and sky meet in gigantic ruin; the gods are no more, save only Vishnu, the preserver. The sea covers all things and eternal night is accompanied by eternal tempest.

Eternal is not strictly correct, however. This reign of destruction lasts four hundred thousand years, during which time Vishnu sleeps on the coils of the great seven-headed serpent of eternity, which floats upon the gloomy sea. The long night over, Vishnu wakes and remodels the earth, and peace and light resume their sway. Seven such cycles pass; all things are annihilated, and Brahm sets about a new creation which goes the same round.

The eastern wise men, fond of allegory and parable, doubtless intended by this to express the persistence and order in the universe, even in periods of the most inexplicable disaster; and to picture for the ignorant the absolute eternity of God.

The thing was too good to let drop; and others added to it by asserting the earth was upborne by an elephant who stood on the back of a tortoise. The tortoise rested on a fish; the fish on water; the water on air; the air on light; the light on darkness; the darkness on the Lord only knows what. When these animals were somewhat wearied, they changed their position, and the earth trembled.

Greece had a somewhat better myth of the giant Atlas, who bore the world on his shoulders; but the old fellow’s gait was not of the steadiest. Rome, not much given to manufacturing her mythsde novo, imported the Grecian fable. We have to-day appropriated the old fellow’s title for a geography supposed to contain the whole earth. The figure is lost on most.

But the alleged drunkenness of Atlas did not consort precisely with the popular ideas of the proper conduct ofa steady old porter in a responsible position; and the mythmakers dragged in a new scapegoat in the person of the Titan Typhon, or Enceladus, supposed to be entombed in Mt. Ætna, as we have elsewhere noticed.

Inhabitants of parts of Farther India and of some Malayan islands believe that far down in the bowels of the earth an immense tiger, Pelu, lies asleep. The sole object of his existence is to destroy the earth; but he may not do this till the human race is extinct. Then he will rise to his feet, the earth will burst into fragments and fly into the distant realms of space. It must of necessity follow that our feline friend’s existence is a somewhat monotonous one, and to avoid ennui in his cramped quarters, he passes much time in sleep. Waking occasionally, and wishing like the German Barbarossa, to know if his time is come, he cautiously raises a few hairs on his back. The earth trembles, and the natives, rushing from their tottering houses throw themselves upon the ground, shouting loudly “Pelu! Pelu!” to assure his tigership that they are certainly alive. Satisfied on this point, the worshipful beast composes himself for another nap.

Thor, the war god of the Norsemen, wielded a mighty hammer, Miolnir. In the “Saga of King Olaf” we find Thor shouting:

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