crater while yet a full mile from any visible fire. One who was in
my charge was so terrified that no assurance of safety and no effort
to persuade could move her. She sat down upon a rock a mile from
Halemaumau, and would not move until we led her out of the crater.
Others, though transfixed and awe-struck at first, become so fearless
that they play with the pools and little rills of lava, dipping up
specimens of it to take away. In order to carry it conveniently, one
lady put a specimen which had hardened, but not yet cooled, into her
handkerchief, when, instead of remaining, it burnt through and fell at
her feet.
XIX.
_Eruptions from Mauna Loa--The Eruption of 1843--A Visit to
it--Danger on the Mountain--A Perilous Journey and a Narrow
Escape._
During the night of January 10, 1843, a brilliant light was seen near
the summit of Mauna Loa. In a short time a fiery stream was rushing
rapidly down the mountain in a northerly direction toward Mauna Kea.
On the 11th, vast columns of steam and smoke arose from the crater.
After a few days the orifice on the top of the mountain ceased to eject
its burning masses, and the action appeared more vivid upon the slope
of the mountain, until the lava reached the valley below, and struck
the foot-hills of Mauna Kea.
[Sidenote: _The Summit Eruption of 1843._]
The Rev. J. D. Paris and his family were our guests at the time, and,
our good wives consenting, we prepared to go up to the flow, which
shone with a strong glare in the valley between the mountains, and had
the appearance of turning toward Hilo. Neither of us had ascended Mauna
Loa before, and we started with great enthusiasm. Taking a guide and
men to carry our food and sleeping-cloaks, we followed the bed of a
mountain stream which empties into the bay of Hilo. The pathway was
rocky and full of cascades from ten to 150 feet in height; but the
water was low at this time, and by wading, leaping from rock to rock,
and crossing and recrossing the stream from ten to twenty times in a
mile, and taking advantage of parts of its margins which were dry, we
made good progress, sleeping two nights in the forests on its banks,
and coming out of the woods into an open, rolling country on the third
day. This is a region where thousands of wild cattle roam.
A little before night of this day, we came directly abreast of a stream
of liquid fire half a mile wide, and bending its course toward Hilo.
Passing along the front of this slowly-moving flood, we flanked another
of about the same width, flowing quietly to the west toward Waimea;
while far up on the side of the mountain we saw another stream moving
toward Kona. This higher stream was a lateral branch of the main trunk,
and this trunk was again divided at the base of Mauna Kea. As these
lower branches were pushing slowly along upon level ground, and as
the feeding flood had ceased to come down upon the surface from the
terminal vent, but flowed in a subterranean duct or ducts, most of the
flow was solidified above, and we could see the flowing lava only in a
belt of a few rods wide across the ends of the streams, and at several
points upon the side of the mountain.
Having satisfied ourselves with the day’s labors, we set about
preparing our camp for the night. Besides our guide and burden-bearers,
a number of natives had begged the privilege of going with us.
Selecting an old wooded crater, about two hundred yards from the lava
stream, and elevated some sixty feet above it, we prepared a booth of
shrubs and leaves, collected fuel, made a rousing fire, ate our supper,
made arrangements for the morrow, and lay down for the night.
But before our eyes were closed by sleep, a dense cloud settled down
upon us, covering all the wide uplands between Mauna Kea and Mauna
Loa. We were now at an elevation of about 8,000 feet above the ocean
level, and the air was cold. Soon the vivid lightning began to flash
from the clouds that covered us, instantly followed by crashing peals
of rattling thunder. We found that we were in a sea of electricity, and
that the full-charged clouds rested on the ground. It was a flash and
a crash simultaneously; the blaze and the roar were nearly coincident.
The very heavens seemed ablaze; the hills and trees dropping their veil
of darkness as if engaged in a fairy dance, while the thunder roared
and reverberated among the mountains.
[Sidenote: _A Tempest on Mauna Loa._]
I had never before seen a tempest of equal grandeur. But the danger was
imminent. The storm continued without intermission until near morning,
and a great rain fell. The sun rose, and the mountains on both sides
of us were crowned with glory. A heavy fall of pure snow covered their
summits. Looking down from our lofty watch-tower toward Hilo, we saw
the clouds that had blazed around us during the night rolled down
and massed along the shore, hiding the sea from our sight, the upper
surface shining with light, and alive with dancing and quivering rays.
We could also see the flashes of lightning dart among the clouds,
followed in measured time by the booming thunder. The scene was of
equal grandeur with that of the past night, but without its danger. We
were in bright sunshine, thousands of feet above the clouds, while the
coast and bay of Hilo were shrouded; and, for the first time in years,
a great storm of hail fell upon the northern part of the district.
But to the hills! to the hills! was the summons of the morning. Onward
and upward was our motto. We each selected a man who volunteered to go
with us to the summit. From our point of view we could trace the stream
in all its windings from its source to its fiery terminus before us.
The surface was all hardened except the fused belt of some 200 feet
wide at the lower end of the flow, pushing slowly out from under its
indurated cover. Above this the whole flow was a shining _pahoehoe_,
or field lava, steaming in light puffs from a thousand cracks and holes.
We set out at sunrise with our two native guides, carrying a little
food, a small supply of water in a gourd, and our camp-cloaks. We
flanked the fresh lava stream some part of the way; crossed it
occasionally, and walked directly upon it for many miles, making as
straight a course as possible. Much of the way we were obliged to walk
over fields and ridges, and down into gorges of _aa_, or clinker lava,
as sharp and jagged as slag around an iron furnace.
The work was so severe that our men fell behind, and we were forced
to halt often and encourage them to hasten up. At length, weary of
this lingering pace, we hurried on, leaving them to follow as well as
they could, but before noon we lost sight of them, and saw them no
more until our return to camp. Taking with them all our supplies, they
had turned back to enjoy rest and shelter with their companions who
remained behind.
We passed over hills and through valleys; saw steaming cones and heard
their hissings. We came to openings through the crust of twenty to
fifty feet in diameter, out of which issued scalding gases, and in
looking down these steaming vents, we saw the stream of incandescent
lava rushing along a vitrified duct with awful speed, some fifty
feet below us. Still pressing up the mountain, we saw through other
openings this rushing stream as it hurried down its covered channel to
spread itself out on the plains below. We threw large stones into these
openings, and saw them strike the lava river, on whose burning bosom
they passed out of sight instantly, before sinking into the flood. Far
off to the right we heard the crashing and roaring of the lava-roof as
it fell into the channel below made by the draining of the stream.
[Sidenote: _A Perilous Victory._]
Noon passed, and the summit was not reached. “Hills peeped o’er hills,”
and we were weary. We came to the snow. One, two, and three +P.M.+
made us anxious. We counted the hours, half hours, and minutes, while
we plodded some five miles in the snow. We had no food, no wrappers
for the night, and no shelter. Our condition was now not only one of
suffering, but one of peril. Our strength began to fail. But to fail
of the object before us when just within our grasp! Could we bear the
disappointment?
We fixed 3:30 +P.M.+ as the latest moment before we must turn our faces
down the mountain. To remain later where we were was death. At the last
moment we came to the yawning fissures where the crimson flood had
first poured out. The rents were terribly jagged, showing the fearful
rage of the fires as they burst forth from their caverns into the
midnight darkness.
We had seen the object of our quest, and now life depended on our
speedy return.
Full twenty-five miles of rugged lava, without guide or trail, lay
before us. We had tasted no food nor a drop of water since daylight.
We knelt a moment, and “looked to the hills whence cometh help,” and
then began the descent. We ran, we stumbled and fell; we rose and ran
again amidst scoria and rocks, up and down, until at sunset we reached
the point where we had stood at noon. Far off among the foot-hills of
Mauna Kea, in the north, we could descry the green cone where our camp
was pitched.
Night came on apace. The moon was a little past her first quarter, and
her mild light never appeared so precious to us as now. Down, down, we
ran, falling amidst the scoriaceous masses, scaling ridges and plunging
into rugged ravines, tearing our shoes and garments, and drawing blood
from our hands, faces, and feet. Once in about a mile we allowed
ourselves a few seconds only to rest. To sit down fifteen minutes would
stiffen us with cold, and to fall asleep in our exhausted condition
would be to wake no more on earth.
[Sidenote: _Retreating for Life._]
As we grew weaker and weaker, our falls were more frequent, until we
could hardly rise or lift a foot from the ground. More than once, when
one of us fell, he would say to his companion, “I can not rise again,
but must give up.” The other would reply, “Brother, you _must_ get
up,” and extending his weary hand, and with encouraging voice he would
aid the fallen one to rise. Thus we alternated in falling and rising;
while our progress became slower and slower. When about half-way down
the descent, we saw clouds rolling up from the sea, and our anxiety was
intense lest such a storm as we had felt the preceding night should
fall upon us. The clouds covered the moon and stars, and darkened all
the volcanic lights of those breathing-holes, which by night shone like
lamps on a hill-side. Our camp-hill, and the flood of lava near it,
were covered with the cloud, and “darkness which was felt” came over
us. It now seemed as if all was over. But thanks to God the veil was
removed, the stars reappeared, and we ceased to wander as we had done
under the shadow of the cloud. We had left the snow and the colder
heights far behind, and now we felt that we were saved. When within
half a mile of camp our natives heard our call, and two came out with
torches to meet us. We came in like wounded soldiers who had been
battling above the clouds, limping and bleeding. We threw ourselves
prostrate upon the ground, and called for water and food, and did not
rise until near noon of the next day.
Our providential escape filled us with too much gratitude to allow us
to chide severely the guides who had deserted us, and whom we found
with the rest of the party, full-fed and happy.
This expedition taught us useful lessons. One of them was never to
attempt another enterprise of this kind without completer arrangements
for its success. We learned practically the truth, that “Two are better
than one, for if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow, but woe to
him who is alone when he falleth.”
When about to leave our mountain camp, our chief guide, a wild-bird
catcher and bullock hunter of the highlands, came to me with a sober
and thoughtful countenance, and after a little hesitation said: “Mr.
Coan, we have guided you up the mountain for so much, and now how much
will you give us to guide you back?” Looking him square in the face, I
replied, “You need not go down, you can stay up here if you like.” The
fellow was dumfounded and stood speechless. His companions, who had
gathered around him hoping to share in the double price for services,
burst out into a laugh, and called him an ass. He submitted, took up
his burden, and gave me no more trouble. But all the way down his
comrades kept up the joke until he accepted the title and said: “Yes, I
am a jackass.”
We reached home after three days of hobbling on lame feet, but thankful
to Him who guides the wanderer.
XX.
_Eruptions of Mauna Loa--The Eruption, of 1852--The
Fire-Fountain--A Visit to it--Alone on the Mountain--Sights on
Mauna Loa._
My account of the eruption of Mauna Loa in February, 1852, was
originally published in _The American Journal of Science and Arts_
(September, 1852). It is here reproduced with slight corrections from
later observations. I visited the locality three times; first while the
lava fountain was playing a thousand feet high, and twice since the
crater had cooled.
It was a little before daybreak on the 17th of February, 1852, that we
saw through our window a beacon light resting on the apex of Mauna Loa.
At first we supposed it to be a planet just setting. In a few minutes
we were undeceived by the increasing brilliancy of the light, and by a
grand outburst of a fiery column which shot high into the air, sending
down a wonderful sheen of light, which illuminated our fields and
flashed through our windows. Immediately a burning river came rushing
down the side of the mountain at the apparent rate of fifteen to twenty
miles an hour. This summit eruption was vivid and vigorous for forty
hours, and I was preparing to visit the scene, when all at once the
valves closed, and all signs of the eruption disappeared; accordingly I
ceased my preparations to ascend the mountain.
On the 20th, the eruption broke out laterally, about 4,000 feet below
the summit, and at a point facing Hilo; from this aperture a brilliant
column of fire shot up to a height of 700 feet, by angular measurement,
with a diameter of from 100 to 300 feet. This lava fountain was
sustained without intermission for twenty days and nights, during which
time it built up a crater one mile in circumference, lacking one chain,
and 400 feet high. It also sent down a river of liquid fire more than
forty miles long, which came within ten miles of Hilo.
The roar of this great furnace was heard along the shores of Hilo, and
the earth quivered with its rage, while all the district was so lighted
up that we could see to read at any hour of the night when the sky was
not clouded. The smoke and steam rose in a vast column like a pillar of
cloud by day, and at night it was illuminated with glowing brilliants,
raising the pillar of fire thousands of feet in appearance. When it
reached a stratum of atmosphere of its own specific gravity, it moved
off like the tail of a comet, or spread out laterally, a vast canopy
of illuminated gases. The winds from the mountain brought down smoke,
cinders, “Pele’s hair,” and gases, scattering the light products over
houses and gardens, streets and fields, or bearing them far out to sea,
dropped them upon the decks of vessels approaching our coast.
[Sidenote: _Through the Wilderness._]
The light of the eruption was seen more than one hundred miles at sea,
and sailors told us that when they first saw the light flaming on the
mountain they exclaimed, “Look there, the moon is rising in the west!”
Much of the time our atmosphere was murky, and the veiled sun looked as
if in an eclipse.
On Monday, the 23d of February, Dr. Wetmore and myself, taking with
us four natives as assistants, set out for the mountain. One of
these natives was familiar with the woods and wilds, having been a
bird-catcher, a canoe-digger, and a wild-cattle hunter in those high
regions. His name was Kekai, “Salt Sea.”
We passed our first night in the skirt of the forest, having taken with
us long knives, an old sword, clubs, and hatchets, purposing to cut
and beat our way through the jungle in as straight a line as possible
toward the fiery pillar. On Tuesday we rose fresh and earnest, and
pressed through the ferns and vines, and through the tangled thicket,
and over, under, and around gigantic trees, which lay thick in some
places, cutting and beating as we went, our progress being sometimes
half a mile, sometimes one, and again two miles an hour. At night
we bivouacked in the ancient forest, hearing the distant roar of the
volcano and seeing the glare of the igneous river, which had already
passed us, cutting its way through the wood a few miles distant on our
left.
On Wednesday Dr. Wetmore decided to return to Hilo, apprehensive that
the stream might reach the sea before we could return from the crater,
and that our families might need his presence. Taking one of the men,
he hastened back to the village, while I pressed on.
Sleeping once more in the forest, we emerged on Thursday upon the high,
open lava fields, but plunged into a dense fog darker and more dreary
than the thicket itself. We were admonished not to journey far, as more
than one man had been lost in these bewildering fogs, and wandering
farther and farther from the way had left his bones to bleach in the
desert; we therefore encamped for the fourth time. A little before
sunset the fog rolled off, and Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa both stood out
in grand relief; the former robed in a fleecy mantle almost to its
base, and the latter belching out floods of fire. All night long we
could see the glowing fires and listen to the awful roar twenty miles
away.
We left our mountain eyrie on the 27th, determined, if possible, to
reach the seat of action that day. The scoriaceous hills and ridges,
the plains and gorges bristled with the sharp and jagged _aa_, and our
ascent was rough and difficult. We mounted ridges where the pillar of
fire shone strongly upon us, and we plunged down deep dells and steep
ravines where our horizon was only a few feet distant, the attraction
increasing as the square of the distance decreased.
[Sidenote: _Alone with the Lava Fountain._]
At noon we came upon the confines of a tract of naked scoriæ so
intolerably sharp and jagged that our baggage-men could not pass it.
Here I ordered a halt; stationed the two carriers, gave an extra pair
of strong shoes to the guide, gave him my wrapper and blanket, put a
few crackers and boiled eggs into my pocket, took my compass and staff,
and said to Mr. Salt Sea, “Now go ahead, and let us warm ourselves
to-night by that fire yonder.” But I soon found that my guide needed a
leader; he lagged behind, and I waited for him to come up, but fearing
we should not reach the point before night I pressed forward alone,
with an interest that mocked all obstacles.
At half-past three +P.M.+ I reached the awful crater, and stood alone
in the light of its fires. It was a moment of unutterable interest. I
was 10,000 feet above the sea, in a vast solitude untrodden by the foot
of man or beast, amidst a silence unbroken by any living voice. The
Eternal God alone spoke. His presence was attested as in the “devouring
fire on the top of Sinai.” I was blinded by the insufferable
brightness, almost petrified by the sublimity of the scene.
The heat was so intense that I could not approach the pillar within
forty or fifty yards, even on the windward side, and in the snowy
breezes coming down from the mountain near four thousand feet above. On
the leeward side the steam, the hot cinders, ashes, and burning pumice
forbade approach within a mile or more.
I stood amazed before this roaring furnace. I felt the flashing heat
and the jar of the earth; I heard the subterranean thunders, and the
poetry of the sacred Word came into my thoughts: “He looketh on the
earth, and it trembleth; He toucheth the hills, and they smoke; the
mountains quake at Him, and the hills melt; He uttered His voice, the
earth melted; the hills melted like wax at the presence of the Lord.”
Here indeed the hills smoked and the earth melted, and I saw its
gushings from the awful throat of the crater burning with intense white
heat. I saw the vast column of melted rocks mounting higher and still
higher, while dazzling volleys and coruscations shot out like flaming
meteors in every direction, exploding all the way up the ascending
column of 1,000 feet with the sharp rattle of infantry fire in battle.
There were unutterable sounds as the fierce fountain sent up the
seething fusion to its utmost height; it came down in parabolic curves,
crashing like a storm of fiery hail in conflict with the continuous
ascending volume, a thousand tons of the descending mass falling back
into the burning throat of the crater, where another thousand were
struggling for vent.
[Sidenote: _An Anxious Moment._]
For an hour I stood entranced; then there came to me the startling
thought that I was _alone_. Where was my companion? I looked down
the mountain, but there was no motion and no voice. The vast fields
and valleys of dreary scoria lay slumbering before me; the sun was
about to disappear behind the lofty snow-robed mountain in the rear.
What if my guide had gone back! Remembering my former experience in
1843, only about five miles from this place, I could not be otherwise
than anxious. Minutes seemed as hours while I watched for his coming,
when lo! there is motion upon the rough _aa_ about a mile below me: a
straw hat peers up on a ridge and again disappears in a gorge, like a
boat in the trough of the sea. Then at length “Salt Sea” stood forth
a life-sized figure in full view. Weary but faithful he was toiling
upward. If ever my heart leaped for joy, it was then. As he came
within speaking distance, he raised both his hands high above his head
and shouted: “Kupaianaha! kupaianaha i keia hana mana a ke Akua mana
loa!”--Wonderful, wonderful is this mighty work of Almighty God.
Could I help embracing the old man and praising the Lord?
We chose our station for the night within about two hundred feet of
the crater and watched its pyrotechnics, and heard its mutterings,
its detonations, and its crashing thunder until morning. Occasionally
our eyelids became heavy, but before we were fairly asleep some new
and rousing demonstration would bring us to our feet and excite
the most intense interest. In addition to the marvelous sounds,
the kaleidoscopic views of the playing column were so rapid and so
brilliant that we could hardly turn our eyes for a moment from it. The
fusion when issuing from the mouth of the crater was white-hot, but
as it rose through the air its tints underwent continuous changes: it
became a light red, then a deeper shade, then a glossy gray, and in
patches a shining black, but these tints and shades with many others
were intermingled, and as every particle was in motion the picture
was splendid beyond the power of description. Thousands and millions
of tons of sparkling lava were pouring from the rim of the crater,
while the cone was rising rapidly, and spreading out at the base. From
the lower side of this cone a large fissure opened, through which the
molten flood was issuing and rushing down the mountain, burning its
way through the forest. No tongue, no pen, no pencil can portray the
beauty, the grandeur, the terrible sublimity of the scenes of this
memorable night.
[Sidenote: _A Wild Bull’s Challenge._]
Morning came, we offered our prayers, ate our breakfast, and descended
the mountain with regrets. Rejoining the men whom we had left the
preceding day, we retraced our steps to Hilo, and reached home
in health and safety, though not without an experience it may be
interesting to relate. In the upper skirts of the forest in a narrow
pass we were confronted by a magnificent wild bull. Coming suddenly
upon a small herd in this defile, the cows and smaller cattle fled
and were soon out of sight; not so the bull; he wheeled and faced us
boldly, covering the retreat of the cows and calves, and bidding us
defiance. As he stood with head proudly erect, we estimated the tips of
his splendid horns to be eight feet from the ground.