Mexico is very largely a vast table-land, rising through much of its extent to an elevation of from 7,000 to 8,000 feet above sea-level, and bounded east and west by wide strips of torrid lowlands adjoining the oceans. It is crossed at about 19 degrees north latitude by a range of volcanic mountains, running in almost a straight line east and west, upon which are several extinct volcanic cones, and five active or quiescent volcanoes. The highest of these is Popocatapetl, south of the city of Mexico and nearly midway between the Atlantic and Pacific.
East of this mountain lies Orizabo, little below it in height, and San Martin or Tuxtla, 9,700 feet high, on the coast south of Vera Cruz. West of it is Jorullo, 4,000 feet, and Colima, 12,800, near the Pacific coast. The volcanic energy continues southward toward the Isthmus, but decreases north of this volcanic range. These mountains have shown little signs of activity in recent times. Popocatapetl emits smoke, but there is no record of an eruption since 1540. Orizabo has been quiet since 1566. Tuxtla had a violent eruption in 1793, but since then has remained quiescent. Colima is the only one now active. For ten years past it has been emitting ashes and smoke. The most remarkable of these volcanoes is Jorullo, which closely resembled Monte Nuovo, described in Chapter XIII., in its mode of origin.
Popocatapetl, the hill that smokes, in the Mexican language, the huge mountain clothed in eternal snows, and regarded by the idolaters of old as a god, towers up nearly 18,000 feet above the level of the sea, and in the days of the conquest of Mexico was a volcano in a state of fierce activity. It was looked upon by the natives with a strange dread, and they told the white strangers with awe that no man could attempt to ascend its slopes and yet live; but, from a feeling of vanity, or the love of adventure, the Spaniards laughed at these fears, and accordingly a party of ten of the followers of Cortes commenced the ascent, accompanied by a few Indians. But these latter, after ascending about 13,000 feet to where the last remains of stunted vegetation existed, became alarmed at the subterranean bellowings of the volcano, and returned, while the Spaniards still painfully toiled on through the rarefied atmosphere, their feet crushing over the scoriae and black-glazed volcanic sand, until they stood in the region of perpetual snow, amidst the glittering, treacherous glaciers and crevasses, with vast slippery-pathed precipices yawning round.
Still they toiled on in this wild and wondrous region. A few hours before they were in a land of perpetual summer; here all was snow. They suffered the usual distress awarded to those who dare to ascend to these solitudes of nature but it was not given to them to achieve the summit, for suddenly, at a higher elevation, after listening to various ominous threatenings from the interior of the volcano, they encountered so fierce a storm of smoke, cinders, and sparks, that they were driven back half suffocated to the lower portions of the mountain.
Some time after another attempt was made; and upon this occasion with a definite object. The invaders had nearly exhausted their stock of gunpowder, and Cortes organized a party to ascend to the crater of the volcano, to seek and bring down sulphur for the manufacture of this necessary of warfare. This time the party numbered but five, led by one Francisco Montano; and they experienced no very great difficulty in winning their way upwards. The region of verdure gave place to the wild, lava-strewn slope, which was succeeded in its turn by the treacherous glaciers; and at last the gallant little band stood at the very edge of the crater, a vast depression of over a league in circumference, and 1,000 feet in depth.
SULPHUR FROM THE CRATER
Flame was issuing from the hideous abysses, and the stoutest man’s heart must have quailed as he peered down into the dim, mysterious cavity to where the sloping sides were crusted with bright yellow sulphur, and listened to the mutterings which warned him of the pent-up wrath and power of the mighty volcano. They knew that at any moment flame and stifling sulphurous vapor might be belched forth, but now no cowardice was shown. They had come provided with ropes and baskets, and it only remained to see who should descend. Lots were therefore drawn, and it fell to Montano, who was accordingly lowered by his followers in a basket 400 feet into the treacherous region of eternal fires.
The basket swayed and the rope quivered and vibrated, but the brave cavalier sturdily held to his task, disdaining to show fear before his humble companions. The lurid light from beneath flashed upon his tanned features, and a sulphurous steam rose slowly and condensed upon the sides; but, whatever were his thoughts, the Spaniard collected as much sulphur as he could take up with him, breaking off the bright incrustations, and even dallying with his task as if in contempt of the danger, till he had leisurely filed his basket, when the signal was given and he was drawn up. The basket was emptied, and then he once more descended into the lurid crater, collected another store and was again drawn up; but far from shrinking from his task, he descended again several times, till a sufficiency had been obtained, with which the party descended to the plain.
THE VOLCANO JORULLO
No further back than the middle of the eighteenth century the site of Jorullo was a level plain, including several highly-cultivated fields, which formed the farm of Don Pedro di Jorullo. The plain was watered by two small rivers, called Cuitimba and San Pedro, and was bounded by mountains composed of basalt—the only indications of former volcanic action. These fields were well irrigated, and among the most fertile in the country, producing abundant crops of sugar-cane and indigo.
In the month of June, 1759, the cultivators of the farm began to be disturbed by strange subterranean noises of an alarming kind, accompanied by frequent shocks of earthquake, which continued for nearly a couple of months; but they afterward entirely ceased, so that the inhabitants of the place were lulled into security. On the night between the 28th and 29th of September, however, the subterranean noises were renewed with greater loudness than before, and the ground shook severely. The Indian servants living on the place started from their beds in terror, and fled to the neighboring mountains. Thence gazing upon their master’s farm they beheld it, along with a tract of ground measuring between three and four square miles, in the midst of which it stood, rise up bodily, as if it had been inflated from beneath like a bladder. At the edges this tract was uplifted only about 39 feet above the original surface, but so great was its convexity that toward the middle it attained a height of no less than 524 feet.
The Indians who beheld this strange phenomenon declared that they saw flames issuing from several parts of this elevated tract, that the entire surface became agitated like a stormy sea, that great clouds of ashes, illuminated by volcanic fires glowing beneath them, rose at several points, and that white-hot stones were thrown to an immense height. Vast chasms were at the same time opened in the ground, and into these the two small rivers above mentioned plunged. Their waters, instead of extinguishing the subterranean conflagration, seemed only to add to its intensity. Quantities of mud, enveloping balls of basalt, were then thrown up, and the surface of the elevated ground became studded with small cones, from which volumes of dense vapor, chiefly steam, were emitted, some of the jets rising from 20 to 30 feet in height.
These cones the Indians called ovens, and in many of them was long heard a subterranean noise resembling that of water briskly boiling. Out of a great chasm in the midst of those ovens there were thrown up six larger elevations, the highest being 1,640 feet above the level of the plain, 4,315 above sea level, and now constituting the principal volcano of Jorullo. The smallest of the six was 300 feet in height; the others of intermediate elevation. The highest of these hills had on its summit a regular volcanic crater, whence there have been thrown up great quantities of dross and lava, containing fragments of older rocks. The ashes were transported to immense distances, some of them having fallen on the houses at Queretaro, more than forty-eight leagues from Jorullo. The volcano continued in this energetic state of activity for about four months; in the following years its eruptions became less frequent, but it still continues to emit volumes of vapor from the principal crater, as well as from many of the ovens in the upheaved ground.
EFFECT ON THE RIVERS
The two rivers, which disappeared on the first night of this great eruption, now pursue an underground course for about a mile and a quarter, and then reappear as hot springs, with a temperature of 126 degrees F.
This wonderful volcanic upheaval is all the more remarkable, from the inland situation of the plain on which it occurred, it being no less than 120 miles distant from the nearest ocean, while there is no other volcano nearer to it than 80 miles. The activity of the ovens has now ceased, and portions of the upheaved plain on which they are situated have again been brought under cultivation, and the volcano is in a state of quiescence.
The crater of Popocatapetl, which towers to a height of 17,000 feet, is a vast circular basin, whose nearly vertical walls are in some parts of a pale rose tint, in others quite black. The bottom contains several small fuming cones, whence arise vapors of changeable color, being successively red, yellow and white. All round them are large deposits of sulphur, which are worked for mercantile purposes.
Orizaba has a little less lofty snow-clad peak. This mountain was in brisk volcanic activity from 1545 to 1560, but has since then relapsed into a prolonged repose. It was climbed, in 1856, by Baron Muller, to whose mind the crater appeared like the entrance to a lower world of horrible darkness. He was struck with astonishment on contemplating the tremendous forces required to elevate and rend such enormous masses—to melt them, and then pile them up like towers, until by cooling they became consolidated into their present forms. The internal walls of the crater are in many places coated with sulphur, and at the bottom are several small volcanic craters. At the time of his visit the summit was wholly covered with snow, but the Indians affirmed that hot vapors occasionally ascend from fissures in the rocks. Since then others have reached its summit, among them Angelo Heilprin, the first to gaze into the crater of Mont Pelee after its eruption.
ERUPTIONS IN NICARAGUA
On the 14th of November, 1867, there commenced an eruption from a mountain about eight leagues to the eastward of the city of Leon, in Nicaragua. This mountain does not appear to have been previously recognized as an active volcano, but it is situated in a very volcanic country. The outburst had probably some connection with the earthquake at St. Thomas, which took place on the 18th of November following. The mountain continued in a state of activity for about sixteen days. There was thrown out an immense quantity of black sand, which was carried as far as to the coast of the Pacific, fifty miles distant. Glowing stones were projected from the crater to an estimated height of three thousand feet.
Central America is more prolific of volcanoes than Mexico, and the State of Guatemala in particular. One authority credits this State with fifteen or sixteen and another with more than thirty volcanic cones. Of these at least five are decidedly active. Tajumalco, which was in eruption at the time of the great earthquake of 1863, yields great quantities of sulphur, as also does Quesaltenango. The most famous is the Volcan de Agua (Water Volcano), so called from its overwhelming the old city of Guatemala with a torrent of water in 1541.
Nicaragua is also rich in volcanoes, being traversed its entire length by a remarkable chain of isolated volcanic cones, several of which are to some extent active. We have already told the story of the tremendous eruption of Coseguina in 1835, one of the most violent of modern times. The latest important eruption here was that of Ometepec, a volcanic mount on an island of the same name in Lake Nicaragua. This broke a long period of repose on June 19, 1883, with a severe eruption, in which the lava, pouring from a new crater, in seven days overflowed the whole island and drove off its population. Incessant rumblings and earthquake shocks accompanied the eruption, and mud, ashes, stones and lava covered the mountain slopes, which had been cultivated for many centuries. These were the most recent strong displays of volcanic energy in Central America, though former great outflows of lava are indicated by great fields of barren rock, which extend for miles.
The most destructive volcanic explosion of recent times, one perhaps unequalled in violence in all times, was that of the small mountain island of Krakatoa, in the East Indian Archipelago, in 1883. This made its effects felt round the entire globe, and excited such wide attention that we feel called upon to give it a chapter of its own.
The island of Krakatoa lies in the Straits of Sunda, between Java and Sumatra. In size it is insignificant, and had been silent so long that its volcanic character was almost lost sight of. Of its early history we know nothing. At some remote time in the past it may have appeared as a large cone, of some twenty-five miles in circumference at base and not less than 10,000 feet high. Then, still in unknown times, its cone was blown away by internal forces, leaving only a shattered and irregular crater ring. This crater was two or three miles in diameter, while the highest part of its walls rose only a few hundred feet above the sea. Later volcanic work built up a number of small cones within the crater, and still later a new cone, called Rakata, rose on the edge of the old one to a height of 2,623 feet.
The first known event in the history of the island volcano was an eruption in the year 1680. After that it lay in repose, forming a group of islands, one much larger than the others. Some of the smaller islands indicated the rim of the old crater, much of which was buried under the sea. Its state of quiescence continued for two centuries, a tropical vegetation richly mantled the island, and to all appearance it had sunk permanently to rest.
Indications of a coming change appeared in 1880, in the form of earthquakes, which shook all the region around. These continued at intervals for more that two years. Then, on May 20, 1883, there were heard at Batavia, a hundred miles away, “booming sounds like the firing of artillery.” Next day the captain of a vessel passing through the Straits saw that Krakatoa was in eruption, sending up clouds of smoke and showers of dust and pumice. The smoke was estimated to reach a height of seven miles, while the volcanic dust drifted to localities 300 miles away.
AWFUL PREMONITIONS
The mountain continued to play for about fourteen weeks with varying activity, several parties meanwhile visiting it and making observations. Such an eruption, in ordinary cases, would have ultimately died away, with no marked change other than perhaps the ejection of a stream of lava. But such was not now the case. The sequel was at once unexpected and terrible. As the island was uninhabited, no one actually saw what took place, those nearest to the scene of the eruption having enough to do to save their own lives, while the dense clouds of vapor and dust baffled observation.
The phase of greatest violence set in on Sunday, August 26th. Soon after midday sailors on passing ships saw that the island had vanished behind a dense cloud of black vapor, the height of which was estimated at not less than seventeen miles. At intervals frightful detonations resounded, and after a time a rain of pumice began to fall at places ten miles distant. For miles round fierce flashes of lightning rent the vapor, and at a distance of fully forty miles ghostly corposants gleamed on the rigging of a vessel.
These phenomena grew more and more alarming until August 27th, when four explosions of fearful intensity shook earth and sea and air, the third being “far the most violent and productive of the most widespread results.” It was, in fact, perhaps the most tremendous volcanic outburst, in its intensity, known in human history. It seemed to overcome the obstruction to the energy of the internal forces, for the eruption now declined, and in a day or two practically died away, though one or two comparatively insignificant outbursts took place later.
FAR-REACHING DESTRUCTION
The eruption spread ruin and death over many surrounding leagues. At Krakotoa itself, when men once more reached its shores, everything was found to be changed. About two-thirds of the main island were blown completely away. The marginal cone was cut nearly in half vertically, the new cliff falling precipitously toward the centre of the crater. Where land had been before now sea existed, in some places more than one hundred feet deep. But the part of the island that remained had been somewhat increased in size by ejected materials.
Of the other islands and islets some had disappeared; some were partially destroyed; some were enlarged by fallen debris, while many changes had taken place in the depth of the neighboring sea-bed. Two new islands, Steers and Calmeyer, were formed. The ejected pumice, so cavernous in structure as to float upon the water, at places formed great floating islands which covered the sea for miles, and sometimes rose from four to seven feet above it, proving a serious obstacle to navigation. On vessels near by dust fell to the depth of eighteen inches. The enormous clouds of volcanic dust which had been flung high into the air darkened the sky for a great area around. At Batavia, about a hundred miles from the volcano, it produced an effect not unlike that of a London fog. This began about seven in the morning of August 27th. Soon after ten the light had become lurid and yellow, and lamps were required in the houses; then came a downfall of rain, mingled with dust, and by about half-past eleven the town was in complete darkness. It soon after began to lighten, and the rain to diminish, and about three o’clock it had ceased.
At Buitenzorg, twenty miles further away, the conditions were similar, but lasted for a shorter time. In places much farther away the upper sky presented a strangely murky aspect, and the sun assumed a green color. Phenomena of this kind were traced over a broad area of the globe, even as far as the Hawaiian Islands, while over a yet wider area the sky after sunset was lit up by after-glows of extraordinary beauty. The height to which the dust was projected has been calculated from various data, with the result that 121,500 feet, or nearly 25 miles, is thought to be a probable maximum estimate, though it may be that occasional fragments of larger size were shot up to a still greater height.
A GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF THE ERUPTION
Another effect, of a distressing character, followed the eruption. A succession of enormous waves, emanating from Krakatoa, traversed the sea, and swept the coast bordering the Straits of Sunda with such force as to destroy many villages on the low-lying shores in Java, Sumatra and other islands. Some buildings at a height of fifty feet above sea-level were washed away, and in some places the water rose higher, in one place reaching the height of 115 feet. At Telok Betong, in Sumatra, a ship was carried inland a distance of nearly two miles, and left stranded at a height of thirty feet above the sea.
The eruption of Krakatoa seems to have been due to some deep-lying causes of extraordinary violence, this appearing not only in the terrible explosion which tore the island to fragments and sent its remnants as floating dust many miles high into the air, but also from an internal convulsion that affected many of the volcanoes of Java, which almost simultaneously broke into violent eruption. We extract from Dr. Robert Bonney’s “Our Earth and its Story” a description of these closely-related events.
“The disturbances originated on the island of Krakatoa, with eruptions of red hot stones and ashes, and by noon next day Semeru, the largest of the Javanese volcanoes, was reported to be belching forth flames at an alarming rate. The eruption soon spread to Gunung Guntur and other mountains, until more than a third of the forty-five craters of Java were either in activity or seriously threatening it.
“Just before dusk a great cloud hung over Gunung Guntur, and the crater of the volcano began to emit enormous streams of white sulphurous mud and lava, which were rapidly succeeded by explosions, followed by tremendous showers of cinders and enormous fragments of rock, which were hurled high into the air and scattered in all directions, carrying death and destruction with them. The overhanging clouds were, moreover, so charged with electricity that water-spouts added to the horror of the scene. The eruption continued all Saturday night, and next day a dense cloud, shot with lurid red, gathered over the Kedang range, intimating that an eruption had broken out there.
“This proved to be the case, for soon after streams of lava poured down the mountain sides into the valleys, sweeping everything before them. About two o’clock on Monday morning—we are drawing on the account of an eye-witness—the great cloud suddenly broke into small sections and vanished. When light came it was seen that an enormous tract of land, extending from Point Capucin on the south, and Negery Passoerang on the north and west, to the lowest point, covering about fifty square miles, had been temporarily submerged by the ‘tidal wave.’ Here were situated the villages of Negery and Negery Babawang. Few of the inhabitants of these places escaped death. This section of the island was less densely populated than the other portions, and the loss of life was comparatively small, although it must have aggregated several thousands. The waters of Welcome Bay in the Sunda Straits, Pepper Bay on the east, and the Indian Ocean on the south, had rushed in and formed a sea of turbulent waves.
DETONATIONS HEARD FOR MANY MILES AWAY
“On Monday night the volcano of Papandayang was in an active state of paroxysmal eruption, accompanied by detonations which are said to have been heard for many miles away. In Sumatra three distinct columns of flame were seen to rise from a mountain to a vast height, and its whole surface was soon covered with fiery lava streams, which spread to great distances on all sides. Stones fell for miles around, and black fragmentary matter carried into the air caused total darkness. A whirlwind accompanied the eruption, by which house-roofs, trees, men, and horses were swept into the air. The quantity of matter ejected was such as to cover the ground and the roofs of the houses at Denamo to the depth of several inches. Suddenly the scene changed. At first it was reported that Papandayang had been split into seven distinct peaks. This proved untrue; but in the open seams formed could be seen great balls of molten matter. From the fissures poured forth clouds of steam and black lava, which, flowing in steady streams, ran slowly down the mountain sides, forming beds 200 or 300 feet in extent. At the entrance to Batavia was a large group of houses extending along the shore, and occupied by Chinamen. This portion of the city was entirely destroyed, and not many of the Chinese who lived on the swampy plains managed to save their lives. They stuck to their homes till the waves came and washed them away, fearing torrents of flame and lava more than torrents of water.
“Of the 3,500 Europeans and Americans in Batavia—which for several hours was in darkness, owing to the fall of ashes—800 perished at Anjer. The European and American quarter was first overwhelmed by rocks, mud and lava from the crater, and then the waters came up and swallowed the ruins, leaving nothing to mark the site, and causing the loss of about 200 lives of the inhabitants and those who sought refuge there.”
The loss of life above mentioned was but a small fraction of the total loss. All along the coasts of the adjoining large islands towns and villages were swept away and their inhabitants drowned, till the total loss was, as nearly as could be estimated, 36,000 souls. Krakatoa thus surpassed Mont Pelee in its tale of destruction. These two, indeed, have been the most destructive to life of known volcanic explosions, since the volcano usually falls far short of the earthquake in its murderous results.
The distant effects of this explosion were as remarkable as the near ones. The concussion of the air reached to an unprecedented distance and the clouds of floating dust encircled the earth, producing striking phenomena of which an account is given at the end of this chapter.
The rapidity with which the effects of the Krakatoa eruption made themselves evident in all parts of the earth is perhaps the most remarkable outcome of this extraordinary event. The floating pumice reached the harbor of St. Paul on the 22nd of March, 1884, after having made a voyage of some two hundred and sixty days at a rate of six-tenths of a mile an hour. Immense quantities of pumice of a similar description, and believed to have been derived from the same source, reached Tamatave in Madagascar five months later, and no doubt much of it long continued to float round the world.
SERIES OF ATMOSPHERIC WAVES
Another result of the eruption was the series of atmospheric waves, caused by the disturbance in the atmosphere, which affected the barometer over the entire world. The velocity with which these waves traveled has been variously estimated at from 912.09 feet to 1066.29 feet per second. This speed is, of course, very much inferior to that at which sound travels through the air. Yet, in three distinct cases, the noise of the Krakatoa explosions was plainly heard at a distance of at least 2,200 miles, and in one instance—that recorded from Rodriguez—of nearly 3,000. The sound travelled to Ceylon, Burmah, Manila, New Guinea and Western Australia, places, however, within a radius of about 2,000 miles; out Diego Garcia lies outside that area, and Rodriguez a thousand miles beyond it. Six days subsequent to the explosion, after the atmospheric waves had traveled four times round the globe, the barometer was still affected by them.
Another result, similar in kind, was the extraordinary dissemination of the great ocean wave, which in a like manner seems to have encircled the earth, since high waves, without evident cause, appeared not only in the Pacific, but at many places on the Atlantic coast within a few days after the event. They were observed alike in England and at New York. The writer happened to be at Atlantic City, on the New Jersey coast, at this time. It was a period of calm, the winds being at rest, but, unheralded, there came in an ocean wave of such height as to sweep away the ocean-front boardwalk and do much other damage. He ascribed this strange wave at the time to the Krakatoa explosion, and is of the same opinion still.
In addition to the account given of this extraordinary volcanic event, it seems desirable to give Sir Robert S. Ball’s description of it in his recent work, “The Earth’s Beginnings.” While repeating to some extent what we have already said, it is worthy, from its freshness of description and general readability, of a place here.
SIR ROBERT S. BALL’S DESCRIPTION
“Until the year 1883 few had ever heard of Krakatoa. It was unknown to fame, as are hundreds of other gems of glorious vegetation set in tropical waters. It was not inhabited, but the natives from the surrounding shores of Sumatra and Java used occasionally to draw their canoes up on its beach, while they roamed through the jungle in search of the wild fruits that there abounded. It was known to the mariner who navigated the Straits of Sunda, for it was marked on his charts as one of the perils of the intricate navigation in those waters. It was no doubt recorded that the locality had been once, or more than once, the seat of an active volcano. In fact, the island seemed to owe its existence to some frightful eruption of by-gone days; but for a couple of centuries there had been no fresh outbreak. It almost seemed as if Krakatoa might be regarded as a volcano that had become extinct. In this respect it would only be like many other similar objects all over the globe, or like the countless extinct volcanoes all over the moon.
“As the summer of 1883 advanced the vigor of Krakatoa, which had sprung into notoriety at the beginning of the year, steadily increased and the noises became more and more vehement; these were presently audible on shores ten miles distant, and then twenty miles distant; and still those noises waxed louder and louder, until the great thunders of the volcano, now so rapidly developing, astonished the inhabitants that dwelt over an area at least as large as Great Britain. And there were other symptoms of the approaching catastrophe. With each successive convulsion a quantity of fine dust was projected aloft into the clouds. The wind could not carry this dust away as rapidly as it was hurled upward by Krakatoa, and accordingly the atmosphere became heavily charged with suspended particles.
“A pall of darkness thus hung over the adjoining seas and islands. Such was the thickness and density of these atmospheric volumes of Krakatoa dust that, for a hundred miles around, the darkness of midnight prevailed at midday. Then the awful tragedy of Krakatoa took place. Many thousands of the unfortunate inhabitants of the adjacent shores of Sumatra and Java were destined never to behold the sun again. They were presently swept away to destruction in an invasion of the shore by the tremendous waves with which the seas surrounding Krakatoa were agitated.
“As the days of August passed by the spasms of Krakatoa waxed more and more vehement. By the middle of that month the panic was widespread, for the supreme catastrophe was at hand. On the night of Sunday, August 26, 1883, the blackness of the dust-clouds, now much thicker than ever in the Straits of Sunda and adjacent parts of Sumatra and Java, was only occasionally illumined by lurid flashes from the volcano.
“At the town of Batavia, a hundred miles distant, there was no quiet that night. The houses trembled with subterranean violence, and the windows rattled as if heavy artillery were being discharged in the streets. And still these efforts seemed to be only rehearsing for the supreme display. By ten o’clock on the morning of Monday, August 27, 1883, the rehearsals were over, and the performance began. An overture, consisting of two or three introductory explosions, was succeeded by a frightful convulsion which tore away a large part of the island of Krakatoa and scattered it to the winds of heaven. In that final outburst all records of previous explosions on this earth were completely broken.
AN EXTRAORDINARY NOISE
“This supreme effort it was which produced the mightiest noise that, so far as we can ascertain, has ever been heard on this globe. It must have been indeed a loud noise which could travel from Krakatoa to Batavia and preserve its vehemence over so great a distance; but we should form a very inadequate conception of the energy of the eruption of Krakatoa if we thought that its sounds were heard by those merely a hundred miles off. This would be little indeed compared with what is recorded on testimony which it is impossible to doubt.
“Westward from Krakatoa stretches the wide expanse of the Indian Ocean. On the opposite side from the Straits of Sunda lies the island of Rodriguez, the distance from Krakatoa being almost three thousand miles. It has been proved by evidence which cannot be doubted that the thunders of the great volcano attracted the attention of an intelligent coast-guard on Rodriguez, who carefully noted the character of the sounds and the time of their occurrence. He had heard them just four hours after the actual explosion, for this is the time the sound occupied on its journey.
A CONSTANT WIND
“This mighty incident at Krakatoa has taught us other lessons on the constitution of our atmosphere. We previously knew little, or I might say almost nothing, as to the conditions prevailing above the height of ten miles overhead. It was Krakatoa which first gave us a little information which was greatly wanted. How could we learn what winds were blowing at a height four times as great as the loftiest mountain on the earth, and twice as great as the loftiest altitude to which a balloon has ever soared? No doubt a straw will show which way the wind blows, but there are no straws up there. There was nothing to render the winds perceptible until Krakatoa came to our aid. Krakatoa drove into those winds prodigious quantities of dust. Hundreds of cubic miles of air were thus deprived of that invisibility which they had hitherto maintained.
“With eyes full of astonishment men watched those vast volumes of Krakatoa dust on a tremendous journey. Of course, every one knows the so-called trade-winds on our earth’s surface, which blow steadily in fixed directions, and which are of such service to the mariner. But there is yet another constant wind. It was first disclosed by Krakatoa. Before the occurrence of that eruption, no one had the slightest suspicion that far up aloft, twenty miles over our heads, a mighty tempest is incessantly hurrying, with a speed much greater than that of the awful hurricane which once laid so large a part of Calcutta on the ground and slew so many of its inhabitants. Fortunately for humanity, this new trade-wind does not come within less than twenty miles of the earth’s surface. We are thus preserved from the fearful destruction that its unintermittent blasts would produce, blasts against which no tree could stand and which would, in ten minutes, do as much damage to a city as would the most violent earthquake. When this great wind had become charged with the dust of Krakatoa, then, for the first, and, I may add, for the only time, it stood revealed to human vision. Then it was seen that this wind circled round the earth in the vicinity of the equator, and completed its circuit in about thirteen days.
A VAST CLOUD Of DUST
“The dust manufactured by the supreme convulsion was whirled round the earth in the mighty atmospheric current into which the volcano discharged it. As the dust-cloud was swept along by this incomparable hurricane it showed its presence in the most glorious manner by decking the sun and the moon in hues of unaccustomed splendor and beauty. The blue color in the sky under ordinary circumstances is due to particles in the air, and when the ordinary motes of the sunbeam were reinforced by the introduction of the myriads of motes produced by Krakatoa even the sun itself sometimes showed a blue tint. Thus the progress of the great dust-cloud was traced out by the extraordinary sky effects it produced, and from the progress of the dust-cloud we inferred the movements of the invisible air current which carried it along. Nor need it be thought that the quantity of material projected from Krakatoa should have been inadequate to produce effects of this world-wide description. Imagine that the material which was blown to the winds of heaven by the supreme convulsion of Krakatoa could be all recovered and swept into one vast heap. Imagine that the heap were to have its bulk measured by a vessel consisting of a cube one mile long, one mile broad and one mile deep; it has been estimated that even this prodigious vessel would have to be filled to the brim at least ten times before all the products of Krakatoa had been measured.”
It is not specially to the quantity of material ejected from Krakatoa that it owes its reputation. Great as it was, it has been much surpassed. Professor Judd says that the great eruptions of Papapandayang, in Java, in 1772, of Skaptur Jokull, in Iceland, in 1783, and of Tamboro, in Sumbawa, in 1815, were marked by the extrusion of much larger quantities of material. The special feature of the Krakatoa eruption was its extreme violence, which flung volcanic dust to a height probably never before attained, and produced sea and air waves of an intensity unparalleled in the records of volcanic action. Judd thinks this was due to the situation of the crater, and the possible inflow through fissures of a great volume of sea water to the interior lava, the result being the sudden production of an enormous volume of steam.
EXTRAORDINARY RED SUNSETS
The red sunsets spoken of above were so extraordinary in character that a fuller description of them seems advisable. A remarkable fact concerning them is the great rapidity with which they were disseminated to distant regions of the earth. They appeared around the entire equatorial zone in a few days after the eruption, this doubtless being due to the great rapidity with which the volcanic dust was carried by the upper air current. They were seen at Rodriguez, 3,000 miles away, on August 28, and within a week in every part of the torrid zone. From this zone they spread north and south with less rapidity. Their first appearance in Australia was on September 15th, and at the Cape of Good Hope on the 20th. On the latter day they were observed in California and the Southern United States. They were first seen in England on November 9th. Elsewhere in Europe and the United States they appeared from November 20th to 30th.
The effect lasted in some instances as long as an hour and three-quarters after sunset. In India the sun and skies assumed a greenish hue, and there was much curiosity regarding the cause of the “green sun.” Another remarkable phenomenon of this period was the great prevalence of rain during the succeeding winter. This probably was due to the same cause; that is, to the fact of the air being so filled with dust; the prevailing theory in regard to rain being that the existence of dust in the air is necessary to its fall. The vapor of the air concentrates into drops around such minute particles, the result being that where dust is absent rain cannot fall.
As regards the sunsets spoken of, there are three similar instances on record. The first of these was in the year 526, when a dry fog covered the Roman Empire with a red haze. Nothing further is known concerning it. The other instances were in the years 1783 and 1831. The former of these has been traced to the great eruption of Skaptur Jokull in that year. It lasted for several months as a pale blue haze, and occasioned so much obscurity that the sun was only visible when twelve degrees above the horizon, and then it had a blood-red appearance. Violent thunderstorms were associated with it, thus assimilating it with that of 1883. Alike in 1783 and 1831 there was a pearly, phosphorescent gleam in the atmosphere, by which small print could be read at midnight. We know nothing regarding the meteorological conditions of 1831.
The red sunsets of 1883 were remarkable for their long persistence. They were observed in the autumn of 1884 with almost their original brilliancy, and they were still visible in 1885, being seen at intervals, as if the dust was then distributed in patches, and driven about by the winds. In fact, similar sunsets were occasionally visible for several years afterwards. These may well have been due to the same cause, when we consider with what extreme slowness very fine dust makes its way through the air, and how much it may be affected by the winds.
THE RED SUNSETS DESCRIBED
One writer describes the appearance of these sunsets in the following terms: “Immediately after sunset a patch of white light appeared ten or fifteen degrees above the horizon, and shone for ten minutes with a pearly lustre. Beneath it a layer of bright red rested on the horizon, melting upward into orange, and this passed into yellow light, which spread around the lucid spot. Next the white light grew of a rosy tint, and soon became an intense rose hue. A vivid golden oriole yellow strip divided it from the red fringe below and the rose red above.” This description, although exaggerated, represents the general conditions of the phenomenon.
On October 20th, 1884, the author observed the sunset effect as follows: “Immediately after the sun had set, a broad cone of silvery lustre rested upon a horizon of smoky pink. After fifteen minutes the white became rose color above and yellowish below, deepening to lemon color, and finally into reddish tint, while the rose faded out. The whole cone gradually sank and died away in the brownish red flush on the horizon, more than an hour after sunset.” The time of duration varied, since, on the succeeding evening, it lasted only a half-hour. These sunset effects, if we can justly attribute them all to the Krakatoa eruption, were extraordinary not alone for their intensity and beauty but for their extended duration, the influence of this remarkable volcanic outbreak being visible for several years after the event.
Though no doubt is entertained concerning the cause of the red sunset effects of 1783 and 1883, that of 1831 is not so readily explained, there having been no known volcanic explosion of great intensity in that year. But in view of the fact that volcanoes exist in unvisited parts of the earth, some of which may have been at work unknown to scientific man, this difficulty is not insuperable. Possibly Mounts Erebus or Terror, the burning mountains of the Antarctic zone, may, unseen by man, have prepared for civilized lands this grand spectacular effect of Nature’s doings.
St. Pierre, the principal city of the French island of Martinique, in the West Indies, lies for the length of about a mile along the island coast, with high cliffs hemming it in, its houses climbing the slope, tier upon tier. At one place where a river breaks through the cliffs, the city creeps further up towards the mountains. As seen from the bay, its appearance is picturesque and charming, with the soft tints of its tiles, the grey of its walls, the clumps of verdure in its midst, and the wall of green in the rear. Seen from its streets this beauty disappears, and the chief attraction of the town is gone.
Back from the three miles of hills which sweep in an arc round the town, is the noble Montagne Pelee lying several miles to the north of the city, a mass of dark rock some four thousand feet high, with jagged outline, and cleft with gorges and ravines, down which flow numerous streams, gushing from the crater lake of the great volcano.
Though known to be a volcano, it was looked upon as practically extinct, though as late as August, 1856, it had been in eruption. No lava at that time came from its crater, but it hurled out great quantities of ashes and mud, with strong sulphurous odor. Then it went to rest again, and slept till 1902.
The people had long ceased to fear it. No one expected that grand old Mount Pelee, the slumbering (so it was thought) tranquil old hill, would ever spurt forth fire and death. This was entirely unlooked for. Mont Pelee was regarded by the natives as a sort of protector; they had an almost superstitious affection for it. From the outskirts of the city it rose gradually, its sides grown thick with rich grass, and dotted here and there with spreading shrubbery and drooping trees. There was no pleasanter outing for an afternoon than a journey up the green, velvet-like sides of the towering mountain and a view of the quaint, picturesque city slumbering at its base.
A PEACEFUL SCENE
There were no rocky cliffs, no crags, no protruding boulders. The mountain was peace itself. It seemed to promise perpetual protection. The poetic natives relied upon it to keep back storms from the land and frighten, with its stern brow, the tempests from the sea. They pointed to it with profoundest pride as one of the most beautiful mountains in the world.
Children played in its bowers and arbors; families picnicked there day after day during the balmy weather; hundreds of tourists ascended to the summit and looked with pleasure at the beautiful crystal lake which sparkled and glinted in the sunshine. Mont Pelee was the place of enjoyment of the people of St. Pierre. I can hear the placid natives say: “Old Father Pelee is our protector—not our destroyer.”
Not until two weeks before the eruption did the slumbering mountain show signs of waking to death and disaster. On the 23d of April it first displayed symptoms of internal disquiet. A great column of smoke began to rise from it, and was accompanied from time to time by showers of ashes and cinders.
Despite these signals, there was nothing until Monday, May 5th, to indicate actual danger. On that day a stream of smoking mud and lava burst through the top of the crater and plunged into the valley of the River Blanche, overwhelming the Guerin sugar works and killing twenty-three workmen and the son of the proprietor. Mr. Guerin’s was one of the largest sugar works on the island; its destruction entailed a heavy loss. The mud which overwhelmed it followed the beds of streams towards the north of the island.
The alarm in the city was great, but it was somewhat allayed by the report of an expert commission appointed by the Governor, which decided that the eruption was normal and that the city was in no peril. To further allay the excitement, the Governor, with several scientists, took up his residence in St. Pierre. He could not restrain the people by force, but the moral effect of his presence and the decision of the scientists had a similar disastrous result.
A GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION BY A SUFFERER.
The existing state of affairs during these few waiting days is so graphically given in a letter from Mrs. Thomas T. Prentis, wife of the United States Consul at St. Pierre, to her sister in Melrose, a suburban city of Boston, that we quote it here:
“My Dear Sister: This morning the whole population of the city is on the alert and every eye is directed toward Mont Pelee, an extinct volcano. Everybody is afraid that the volcano has taken into its heart to burst forth and destroy the whole island.
“Fifty years ago Mont Pelee burst forth with terrific force and destroyed everything within a radius of several miles. For several days the mountain has been bursting forth in flame and immense quantities of lava are flowing down its sides.
“All the inhabitants are going up to see it. There is not a horse to be had on the island, those belonging to the natives being kept in readiness to leave at a moment’s notice.
“Last Wednesday, which was April 23d, I was in my room with little Christine, and we heard three distinct shocks. They were so great that we supposed at first that there was some one at the door, and Christine went and found no one there. The first report was very loud, and the second and third were so great that dishes were thrown from the shelves and the house was rocked.
“We can see Mont Pelee from the rear windows of our house, and although it is fully four miles away, we can hear the roar of the fire and lava issuing from it.
“The city is covered with ashes and clouds of smoke have been over our heads for the last five days. The smell of sulphur is so strong that horses on the streets stop and snort, and some of them are obliged to give up, drop in their harness and die from suffocation. Many of the people are obliged to wear wet handkerchiefs over their faces to protect them from the fumes of sulphur.
“My husband assures me that there is no immediate danger, and when there is the least particle of danger we will leave the place. There is an American schooner, the R. F. Morse, in the harbor, and she will remain here for at least two weeks. If the volcano becomes very bad we shall embark at once and go out to sea. The papers in this city are asking if we are going to experience another earthquake similar to that which struck here some fifty years ago.”
THE FATEFUL EIGHTH OF MAY
The writer of this letter and her husband, Consul Prentis, trusted Mont Pelee too long. They perished, with all the inhabitants of the city, in a deadly flood of fire and ashes that descended on the devoted place on the fateful morning of Thursday, May 8th. Only for the few who were rescued from the ships in the harbor there would be scarcely a living soul to tell that dread story of ruin and death. The most graphic accounts are those given by rescued officers of the Roraima, one of the fleet of the Quebec Steamship Co., trading with the West Indies. This vessel had left the Island of Dominica for Martinique at midnight of Wednesday, and reached St. Pierre about 7 o’clock Thursday morning. The greatest difficulty was experienced in getting into port, the air being thick with falling ashes and the darkness intense. The ship had to grope its way to the anchorage. Appalling sounds were issuing from the mountain behind the town, which was shrouded in darkness. The ashes were falling thickly on the steamer’s deck, where the passengers and others were gazing at the town, some being engaged in photographing the scene.
The best way in which we can describe a scene of which few lived to tell the story, is to give the narratives of a number of the survivors. From their several stories a coherent idea of the terrible scene can be formed. From the various accounts given of the terrible explosion by officers of the Roraima, we select as a first example the following description by Assistant Purser Thompson:
A TALE OF SUDDEN RUIN
“I saw St. Pierre destroyed. It was blotted out by one great flash of fire. Nearly 40,000 persons were all killed at once. Out of eighteen vessels lying in the roads only one, the British steamship Roddam, escaped, and she, I hear, lost more than half on board. It was a dying crew that took her out.
“Our boat, the Roraima, of the Quebec Line, arrived at St. Pierre early Thursday morning. For hours before we entered the roadstead we could see flames and smoke rising from Mont Pelee. No one on board had any idea of danger. Captain G. T. Muggah was on the bridge, and all hands got on deck to see the show.
“The spectacle was magnificent. As we approached St. Pierre we could distinguish the rolling and leaping of the red flames that belched from the mountain in huge volumes and gushed high in to the sky. Enormous clouds of black smoke hung over the volcano.
“When we anchored at St. Pierre I noticed the cable steamship Grappler, the Roddam, three or four American schooners and a number of Italian and Norwegian barks. The flames were then spurting straight up in the air, now and then waving to one side or the other for a moment and again leaping suddenly higher up.
“There was a constant muffled roar. It was like the biggest oil refinery in the world burning up on the mountain top. There was a tremendous explosion about 7.45 o’clock, soon after we got in. The mountain was blown to pieces. There was no warning. The side of the volcano was ripped out, and there was hurled straight toward us a solid wall of flame. It sounded like thousands of cannon.
“The wave of fire was on us and over us like a lightning flash. It was like a hurricane of fire. I saw it strike the cable steamship Grappler broadside on and capsize her. From end to end she burst into flames and then sank. The fire rolled in mass straight down upon St. Pierre and the shipping. The town vanished before our eyes and the air grew stifling hot, and we were in the thick of it.
“Wherever the mass of fire struck the sea the water boiled and sent up vast clouds of steam. The sea was torn into huge whirlpools that careened toward the open sea.
“One of these horrible hot whirlpools swung under the Roraima and pulled her down on her beam ends with the suction. She careened way over to port, and then the fire hurricane from the volcano smashed her, and over she went on the opposite side. The fire wave swept off the masts and smokestack as if they were cut with a knife.
HEAT CAUSED EXPLOSIONS
“Captain Muggah was the only one on deck not killed outright. He was caught by the fire wave and terribly burned. He yelled to get up the anchor, but, before two fathoms were heaved in the Roraima was almost upset by the boiling whirlpool, and the fire wave had thrown her down on her beam ends to starboard. Captain Muggah was overcome by the flames. He fell unconscious from the bridge and toppled overboard.
“The blast of fire from the volcano lasted only a few minutes. It shriveled and set fire to everything it touched. Thousands of casks of rum were stored in St. Pierre, and these were exploded by the terrific heat. The burning rum ran in streams down every street and out to the sea. This blazing rum set fire to the Roraima several times. Before the volcano burst the landings of St. Pierre were crowded with people. After the explosion not one living being was seen on land. Only twenty-five of those on the Roraima out of sixty-eight were left after the first flash.
“The French cruiser Suchet came in and took us off at 2 P. M. She remained nearby, helping all she could, until 5 o’clock, then went to Fort de France with all the people she had rescued. At that time it looked as if the entire north end of the island was on fire.”
C. C. Evans, of Montreal, and John G. Morris, of New York, who were among those rescued, say the vessel arrived at 6 o’clock. As eight bells were struck a frightful explosion was heard up the mountain. A cloud of fire, toppling and roaring, swept with lightning speed down the mountain side and over the town and bay. The Roraima was nearly sunk, and caught fire at once.
“I can never forget the horrid, fiery, choking whirlwind which enveloped me,” said Mr. Evans. “Mr. Morris and I rushed below. We are not very badly burned, not so bad as most of them. When the fire came we were going to our posts (we are engineers) to weigh anchor and get out. When we came up we found the ship afire aft, and fought it forward until 3 o’clock, when the Suchet came to our rescue. We were then building a raft.”
“Ben” Benson, the carpenter of the Roraima, said: “I was on deck, amidships, when I heard an explosion. The captain ordered me to up anchor. I got to the windlass, but when the fire came I went into the forecastle and got my ‘duds.’ When I came out I talked with Captain Muggah, Mr. Scott, the first officer and others. They had been on the bridge. The captain was horribly burned. He had inhaled flames and wanted to jump into the sea. I tried to make him take a life-preserver. The captain, who was undressed, jumped overboard and hung on to a line for a while. Then he disappeared.”
THE COOPER’S STORY.
James Taylor, a cooper employed on the Roraima, gives the following account of his experience of the disaster:
“Hearing a tremendous report and seeing the ashes falling thicker, I dived into a room, dragging with me Samuel Thomas, a gangway man and fellow countryman, shutting the door tightly. Shortly after I heard a voice, which I recognized as that of the chief mate, Mr. Scott. Opening the door with great caution, I drew him in. The nose of Thomas was burned by the intense heat.
“We three and Thompson, the assistant purser, out of sixty-eight souls on board, were the only persons who escaped practically uninjured. The heat being unbearable, I emerged in a few moments, and the scene that presented itself to my eyes baffles description. All around on the deck were the dead and dying covered with boiling mud. There they lay, men, women and little children, and the appeals of the latter for water were heart-rending. When water was given them they could not swallow it, owing to their throats being filled with ashes or burnt with the heated air.
“The ship was burning aft, and I jumped overboard, the sea being intensely hot. I was at once swept seaward by a tidal wave, but, the sea receding a considerable distance, the return wave washed me against an upturned sloop to which I clung. I was joined by a man so dreadfully burned and disfigured as to be unrecognizable. Afterwards I found he was the captain of the Roraima, Captain Muggah. He was in dreadful agony, begging piteously to be put on board his ship.
“Picking up some wreckage which contained bedding and a tool chest, I, with the help of five others who had joined me on the wreck, constructed a rude raft, on which we placed the captain. Then, seeing an upturned boat, I asked one of the five, a native of Martinique, to swim and fetch it. Instead of returning to us, he picked up two of his countrymen and went away in the direction of Fort de France. Seeing the Roddam, which arrived in port shortly after we anchored, making for the Roraima, I said good-bye to the captain and swam back to the Roraima.
“The Roddam, however, burst into flames and put to sea. I reached the Roraima at about half-past 2, and was afterwards taken off by a boat from the French warship Suchet. Twenty-four others with myself were taken on to Fort de France. Three of these died before reaching port. A number of others have since died.”
Samuel Thomas, the gangway man, whose life was saved by the forethought of Taylor, says that the scene on the burning ship was awful. The groans and cries of the dying, for whom nothing could be done, were horrible. He describes a woman as being burned to death with a living babe in her arms. He says that it seemed as if the whole world was afire.
CONSUL AYME’S STATEMENT
The inflammable material in the forepart of the ship that would have ignited that part of the vessel was thrown overboard by him and the other two uninjured men. The Grappler, the telegraph company’s ship, was seen opposite the Usine Guerin, and disappeared as if blown up by a submarine explosion. The captain’s body was subsequently found by a boat from the Suchet.
Consul Ayme, of Guadeloupe, who, as already stated, had hastened to Fort de France on hearing of the terrible event, tells the story of the disaster in the following words:
“Thursday morning the inhabitants of the city awoke to find heavy clouds shrouding Mont Pelee crater. All day Wednesday horrid detonations had been heard. These were echoed from St. Thomas on the north to Barbados on the south. The cannonading ceased on Wednesday night, and fine ashes fell like rain on St. Pierre. The inhabitants were alarmed, but Governor Mouttet, who had arrived at St. Pierre the evening before, did everything possible to allay the panic.
“The British steamer Roraima reached St. Pierre on Thursday with ten passengers, among whom were Mrs. Stokes and her three children, and Mrs. H. J. Ince. They were watching the rain of ashes, when, with a frightful roar and terrific electric discharges, a cyclone of fire, mud and steam swept down from the crater over the town and bay, sweeping all before it and destroying the fleet of vessels at anchor off the shore. There the accounts of the catastrophe so far obtainable cease. Thirty thousand corpses are strewn about, buried in the ruins of St. Pierre, or else floating, gnawed by sharks, in the surrounding seas. Twenty-eight charred, half-dead human beings were brought here. Sixteen of them are already dead, and only four of the whole number are expected to recover.”
A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCE ON THE “RORAIMA”
Margaret Stokes, the 9 year old daughter of the late Clement Stokes, of New York, who, with her mother, a brother aged 4 and a sister aged 3 years, was on the ill-fated steamer Roraima, was saved from that vessel, but is not expected to live. Her nurse, Clara King, tells the following story of her experience:
She says she was in her stateroom, when the steward of the Roraima called out to her:
“Look at Mont Pelee.”
She went on deck and saw a vast mass of black cloud coming down from the volcano. The steward ordered her to return to the saloon, saying, “It is coming.”
Miss King then rushed to the saloon. She says she experienced a feeling of suffocation, which was followed by intense heat. The afterpart of the Roraima broke out in flames. Ben Benson, the carpenter of the Roraima, severely burned, assisted Miss King and Margaret Stokes to escape. With the help of Mr. Scott, the first mate of the Roraima, he constructed a raft, with life preservers. Upon this Miss King and Margaret were placed.
While this was being done Margaret’s little brother died. Mate Scott brought the child water at great personal danger, but it was unavailing. Shortly after the death of the little boy Mrs. Stokes succumbed. Margaret and Miss King eventually got away on the raft, and were picked up by the steamer Korona. Mate Scott also escaped. Miss King did not sustain serious injuries. She covered the face of Margaret with her dress, but still the child was probably fatally burned.
The only woman known at that time to have survived the disaster at St. Pierre was a negress named Fillotte. She was found in a cellar Saturday afternoon, where she had been for three days. She was still alive, but fearfully burned from head to toes. She died afterward in the hospital.
CAPTAIN FREEMAN’S THRILLING ACCOUNT
Of the vessels in the harbor of St. Pierre on the fateful morning, only one, the British steamer Roddam, escaped, and that with a crew of whom few reached the open sea alive. Those who did escape were terribly injured. Captain Freeman, of this vessel, tells what he experienced in the following thrilling language:
“St. Lucia, British West Indies, May 11.—The steamer Roddam, of which I am captain, left St. Lucia at midnight of May 7, and was off St. Pierre, Martinique, at 6 o’clock on the morning of the 8th. I noticed that the volcano, Mont Pelee, was smoking, and crept slowly in toward the bay, finding there among others the steamer Roraima, the telegraph repairing steamer Grappler and four sailing vessels. I went to anchorage between 7 and 8 and had hardly moored when the side of the volcano opened out with a terrible explosion. A wall of fire swept over the town and the bay. The Roddam was struck broadside by the burning mass. The shock to the ship was terrible, nearly capsizing her.
AWFUL RESULTS
“Hearing the awful report of the explosion and seeing the great wall of flames approaching the steamer, those on deck sought shelter wherever it was possible, jumping into the cabin, the forecastle and even into the hold. I was in the chart room, but the burning embers were borne by so swift a movement of the air that they were swept in through the door and port holes, suffocating and scorching me badly. I was terribly burned by these embers about the face and hands, but managed to reach the deck. Then, as soon as it was possible, I mustered the few survivors who seemed able to move, ordered them to slip the anchor, leaped for the bridge and ran the engine for full speed astern. The second and the third engineer and a fireman were on watch below and so escaped injury. They did their part in the attempt to escape, but the men on deck could not work the steering gear because it was jammed by the debris from the volcano. We accordingly went ahead and astern until the gear was free, but in this running backward and forward it was two hours after the first shock before we were clear of the bay.
“One of the most terrifying conditions was that, the atmosphere being charged with ashes, it was totally dark. The sun was completely obscured, and the air was only illuminated by the flames from the volcano and those of the burning town and shipping. It seems small to say that the scene was terrifying in the extreme. As we backed out we passed close to the Roraima, which was one mass of blaze. The steam was rushing from the engine room, and the screams of those on board were terrible to hear. The cries for help were all in vain, for I could do nothing but save my own ship. When I last saw the Roraima she was settling down by the stern. That was about 10 o’clock in the morning.
“When the Roddam was safely out of the harbor of St. Pierre, with its desolations and horrors, I made for St. Lucia. Arriving there, and when the ship was safe, I mustered the survivors as well as I was able and searched for the dead and injured. Some I found in the saloon where they had vainly sought for safety, but the cabins were full of burning embers that had blown in through the port holes. Through these the fire swept as through funnels and burned the victims where they lay or stood, leaving a circular imprint of scorched and burned flesh. I brought ten on deck who were thus burned; two of them were dead, the others survived, although in a dreadful state of torture from their burns. Their screams of agony were heartrending. Out of a total of twenty-three on board the Roddam, which includes the captain and the crew, ten are dead and several are in the hospital. My first and second mates, my chief engineer and my supercargo, Campbell by name, were killed. The ship was covered from stem to stern with tons of powdered lava, which retained its heat for hours after it had fallen. In many cases it was practically incandescent, and to move about the deck in this burning mass was not only difficult but absolutely perilous. I am only now able to begin thoroughly to clear and search the ship for any damage done by this volcanic rain, and to see if there are any corpses in out-of-the-way places. For instance, this morning, I found one body in the peak of the forecastle. The body was horribly burned and the sailor had evidently crept in there in his agony to die.
“On the arrival of the Roddam at St. Lucia the ship presented an appalling appearance. Dead and calcined bodies lay about the deck, which was also crowded with injured helpless and suffering people. Prompt assistance was rendered to the injured by the authorities here and my poor, tortured men were taken to the hospital. The dead were buried. I have omitted to mention that out of twenty-one black laborers that I brought from Grenada to help in stevedoring, only six survived. Most of the others threw themselves overboard to escape a dreadful fate, but they met a worse one, for it is an actual fact that the water around the ship was literally at a boiling heat. The escape of my vessel was miraculous. The woodwork of the cabins and bridge and everything inflammable on deck were constantly igniting, and it was with great difficulty that we few survivors managed to keep the flames down. My ropes, awnings, tarpaulins were completely burned up.
“I witnessed the entire destruction of St. Pierre. The flames enveloped the town in every quarter with such rapidity that it was impossible that any person could be saved. As I have said, the day was suddenly turned to night, but I could distinguish by the light of the burning town people distractedly running about on the beach. The burning buildings stood out from the surrounding darkness like black shadows. All this time the mountain was roaring and shaking, and in the intervals between these terrifying sounds I could hear the cries of despair and agony from the thousands who were perishing. These cries added to the terror of the scene, but it is impossible to describe its horror or the dreadful sensations it produced. It was like witnessing the end of the world.