DREADFUL FLOODS

An eruption of Kotlugja, in 1860, was accompanied by dreadful floods. It

began with a number of earthquakes, which shook the surrounding country.

Then a dark columnar cloud of vapor was seen to rise by day from the

mountain, and by night balls of fire (volcanic bombs) and red-hot

cinders to the height of 24,000 feet (nearly five miles), which were

seen at a distance of 180 miles. Deluges of water rushed from the

heights, bearing along whole fields of ice and rocky fragments of every

size, some vomited from the volcano, but in great part torn from the

flanks of the mountain itself and carried to the sea, there to add

considerably to the coastline after devastating the intervening country.

The fountain of volcanic bombs consisted of masses of lava, containing

gases which exploded and produced a loud sound, which was said to have

been heard at a distance of 100 miles. The size of the bombs, and the

height to which they must have reached, were very great. But the most

remarkable of the historical eruptions in Iceland were those of Skaptar

Jokull in 1783, and of Hecla in 1845. Of these an extended description

is worthy of being given.

Of these two memorable eruptions, that of Skaptar Jokull began on the

11th of June, 1783. It was preceded by a long series of earthquakes,

which had become exceedingly violent immediately before the eruption. On

the 8th, volcanic vapors were emitted from the summit of the mountain,

and on the 11th immense torrents of lava began to be poured forth from

numerous mouths. These torrents united to form a large stream, which,

flowing down into the river Skapta, not only dried it up, but completely

filled the vast gorge through which the river had held its course. This

gorge, 200 feet in breadth, and from 400 to 600 feet in depth, the lava

filled so entirely as to overflow to a considerable extent the fields

on either side. On issuing from this ravine, the lava flowed into a deep

lake which lay in the course of the river. Here it was arrested for a

while; but it ultimately filled the bed of the lake altogether--either

drying up its waters, or chasing them before it into the lower part of

the river’s course. Still forced onward by the accumulation of molten

lava from behind, the stream resumed its advance, till it reached

some ancient volcanic rocks which were full of caverns. Into these it

entered, and where it could not eat its way by melting the old rock,

it forced a passage by shivering the solid mass and throwing its broken

fragments into the air to a height of 150 feet.

A TORRENT OF LAVA

On the 18th of June there opened above the first mouth a second of large

dimensions, whence poured another immense torrent of lava, which flowed

with great rapidity over the solidified surface of the first stream, and

ultimately combined with it to form a more formidable main current. When

this fresh stream reached the fiery lake, which had filled the lower

portion of the valley of the Skapta, a portion of it was forced up the

channel of that river towards the foot of the hill whence it takes its

rise. After pursuing its course for several days, the main body of this

stream reached the edge of a great waterfall called Stapafoss, which

plunged into a deep abyss. Displacing the water, the lava here leaped

over the precipice, and formed a great cataract of fire. After this, it

filled the channel of the river, though extending itself in breadth far

beyond it, and followed it until it reached the sea.

ENORMOUS QUANTITY OF LAVA

The 3rd of August brought fresh accessions to the flood of lava still

pouring from the mountain. There being no room in the channel, now

filled by the former lurid stream, which had pursued a northwesterly

course, the fresh lava was forced to take a new direction towards the

southeast, where it entered the bed of another river with a barbaric

name. Here it pursued a course similar to that which flowed through the

channel of the Skapta, filling up the deep gorges, and then spreading

itself out into great fiery lakes over the plains.

The eruptions of lava from the mountain continued, with some short

intervals, for two years, and so enormous was the quantity poured forth

during this period that, according to a careful estimate which has been

made, the whole together would form a mass equal to that of Mont Blanc.

Of the two streams, the greater was fifty, the less forty, miles in

length. The Skapta branch attained on the plains a breadth varying from

twelve to fifteen miles--that of the other was only about half as much.

Each of the currents had an average depth of 100 feet, but in the

deep gorges it was no less than 600 feet. Even as late as 1794 vapors

continued to rise from these great streams, and the water contained in

the numerous fissures formed in their crust was hot.

The devastation directly wrought by the lava currents themselves was

not the whole of the evils they brought upon unfortunate Iceland and

its inhabitants. Partly owing to the sudden melting of the snows and

glaciers of the mountain, partly owing to the stoppage of the

river courses, immense floods of water deluged the country in

the neighborhood, destroying many villages and a large amount of

agricultural and other property. Twenty villages were overwhelmed by the

lava currents, while the ashes thrown out during the eruption covered

the whole island and the surface of the sea for miles around its

shores. On several occasions the ashes were drifted by the winds over

considerable parts of the European continent, obscuring the sun and

giving the sky a gray and gloomy aspect. In certain respects they

reproduced the phenomena of the explosion of Mount Krakatoa, which,

singularly, occurred just a century later, in 1883. The strange red

sunset phenomena of the latter were reproduced by this Icelandic event

of the eighteenth century.

Out of the 50,000 persons who then inhabited Iceland, 9,336 perished,

together with 11,460 head of cattle, 190,480 sheep and 28,000 horses.

This dreadful destruction of life was caused partly by the direct action

of the lava currents, partly by the noxious vapors they emitted, partly

by the floods of water, partly by the destruction of the herbage by the

falling ashes, and lastly in consequence of the desertion of the coasts

by the fish, which formed a large portion of the food of the people.

ERUPTION OF MOUNT HECLA

After this frightful eruption, no serious volcanic disturbance took

place in Iceland until 1845, when Mount Hecla again became disastrously

active. Mount Hecla has been the most frequent in its eruptions of any

of the Icelandic volcanoes. Previous to 1845 there had been twenty-two

recorded eruptions of this mountain, since the discovery of Iceland

in the ninth century; while from all the other volcanoes in the island

there had been only twenty during the same period. Hecla has more than

once remained in activity for six years at a time--a circumstance that

has rendered it the best known of the volcanoes of this region.

LATER OUTBREAKS

After enjoying a long rest of seventy-nine years, this volcano burst

again into violent activity in the beginning of September, 1845. The

first inkling of this eruption was conveyed to the British Islands by

a fall of volcanic ashes in the Orkneys, which occurred on the night

of September 2nd during a violent storm. This palpable hint was

soon confirmed by direct intelligence from Copenhagen. On the 1st

of September a severe earthquake, followed the same night by fearful

subterranean noises, alarmed the inhabitants and gave warning of what

was to come. About noon the next day, with a dreadful crash, there

opened in the sides of the volcano two new mouths, whence two great

streams of glowing lava poured forth. They fortunately flowed down the

northern and northwestern sides of the mountain, where the low grounds

are mere barren heaths, affording a scanty pasture for a few sheep.

These were driven before the fiery stream, but several of them were

burnt before they could escape. The whole mountain was enveloped in

clouds of volcanic ashes and vapors. The rivers near the lava currents

became so hot as to kill the fish, and to be impassable even on

horseback.

About a fortnight later there was a fresh eruption, of greater violence,

which lasted twenty-two hours, and was accompanied by detonations so

loud as to be heard over the whole island. Two new craters were formed,

one on the southern, the other on the eastern slope of the cone. The

lava issuing from these craters flowed to a distance of more than

twenty-two miles. At about two miles from its source the fiery stream

was a mile wide, and from 40 to 50 feet deep. It destroyed a large

extent of fine pasture and many cattle. Nearly a month later, on the

15th of October, a fresh flood of lava burst from the southern crater,

and soon heaped up a mass at the foot of the mountain from 40 to 60 feet

in height, three great columns of vapor, dust and ashes rising at

the same time from the three new craters of the volcano. The mountain

continued in a state of greater or less activity during most of the

next year; and even as late as the month of October, 1846, after a brief

pause, it began again with renewed vehemence. The volumes of dust, ashes

and vapor, thrown up from the craters, and brightly illuminated by the

glowing lava beneath, assumed the appearance of flames, and ascended to

an immense height.

ELECTRIC PHENOMENA

Among the stones tossed out of the craters was one large mass of pumice

weighing nearly half a ton, which was carried to a distance of between

four and five miles. The rivers were flooded by the melting of ice

and snow which had accumulated on the mountain. The greatest mischief

wrought by these successive eruptions was the destruction of the

pasturages, which were for the most part covered with volcanic ashes.

Even where left exposed, the herbage acquired a poisonous taint which

proved fatal to the cattle, inducing among them a peculiar murrain.

Fortunately, owing to the nature of the district through which the lava

passed, there was on this occasion no loss of human life.

The Icelandic volcanoes are remarkable for the electric phenomena which

they produce in the atmosphere. Violent thunder-storms, with showers

of rain and hail, are frequent accompaniments of volcanic eruptions

everywhere; but owing to the coldness and dryness of the air into which

the vapors from the Icelandic volcanoes ascend, their condensation is so

sudden and violent that great quantities of electricity are developed.

Thunder-storms accompanied by the most vivid lightnings are the result.

Humboldt mentions in his “Cosmos” that, during an eruption of Kotlugja,

one of the southern Icelandic volcanoes, the lightning from the cloud of

volcanic vapor killed eleven horses and two men (Cosmos i. 223). Great

displays of the aurora borealis usually accompany the volcanic eruptions

of this island--doubtless resulting from the quantity of electricity

imparted to the higher atmosphere by the condensation of the ascending

vapors. On the 18th of August, 1783, while the great eruption of Skaptar

Jokull was in progress, an immense fire-ball passed over England and the

European continent as far as Rome. This ball which was estimated to

have had a diameter exceeding half a mile, is supposed to have been of

electrical origin, and due to the high state of electric tension in the

atmosphere over Iceland at that time.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Volcanoes of the Philippines and Other Pacific Islands.

We cannot do better than open this chapter with an account of the work

of volcanoes in the mountain-girdled East Indian island of Java. This

large and fertile tropical island has a large native population, and

many European settlers are employed in cultivating spices, coffee and

woods. The island is rather more than 600 miles long, and it is not 150

miles broad in any part; and this narrow shape is produced by a chain of

volcanoes which runs along it. There is scarcely any other region in

the world where volcanoes are so numerous, even in the East, where the

volcano is a very common product of nature. Some of the volcanoes of

Java are constantly in eruption, while others are inactive.

One of their number, Galung Gung, was previous to 1822 covered from top

to bottom with a dense forest; around it were populous villages. The

mountain was high; there was a slight hollow on its top--a basin-like

valley, carpeted with the softest sward; brooks rippled down the

hillside through the forests, and, joining their silvery streams, flowed

on through beautiful valleys into the distant sea. In the month of July,

1822, there were signs of an approaching disturbance; this tranquil

peacefulness was at an end; one of the rivers became muddy, and its

waters grew hot.

In October, without any warning, a most terrific eruption occurred. A

loud explosion was heard; the earth shook, and immense columns of hot

water, boiling mud mixed with burning brimstone, ashes and stones, were

hurled upwards from the mountain top like a waterspout, and with such

wonderful force that large quantities fell at a distance of forty miles.

Every valley near the mountain became filled with burning torrents;

the rivers, swollen with hot water and mud, overflowed their banks,

and swept away the escaping villagers; and the bodies of cattle, wild

beasts, and birds were carried down the flooded stream.

ERUPTION OF GALUNG GUNG

A space of twenty-four miles between the mountain and a river forty

miles distant was covered to such a depth with blue mud, that people

were buried in their houses, and not a trace of the numerous villages

and plantations was visible. The boiling mud and cinders were cast forth

with such violence from the crater, that while many distant villages

were utterly destroyed and buried, others much nearer the volcano were

scarcely injured; and all this was done in five short hours.

Four days afterwards a second eruption occurred more violent than the

first, and hot water and mud were cast forth with masses of slag like

the rock called basalt some of which fell seven miles off. A violent

earthquake shook the whole district, and the top of the mountain fell

in, and so did one of its sides, leaving a gaping chasm. Hills appeared

where there had been level land before, and the rivers changed their

courses, drowning in one night 2,000 people. At some distance from the

mountain a river runs through a large town, and the first intimation the

inhabitants had of all this horrible destruction was the news that the

bodies of men and the carcases of stags, rhinoceroses, tigers, and other

animals, were rushing along to the sea. No less than 114 villages

were destroyed, and above 4,000 persons were killed by this terrible

catastrophe.

Fifty years before this eruption, Mount Papandayang, one of the highest

burning mountains of Java, was constantly throwing out steam and smoke,

but as no harm was done, the natives continued to live on its sides.

Suddenly this enormous mountain fell in, and left a gap fifteen miles

long and six broad. Forty villages were destroyed, some being carried

down and others overwhelmed by mud and burning lava. No less than 2,957

people perished, with vast numbers of cattle; moreover, most of the

coffee plantations in the neighboring districts were destroyed.

Even more terrible was the eruption of Mount Salek, another of the

volcanoes of Java. The burning of the mountain was seen 100 miles away,

while the thunders of its convulsions and the tremblings of the

earth reached the same distance. Seven hills, at whose base ran

a river--crowded with dead buffaloes, deer, apes, tigers, and

crocodiles--slipped down and became a level plain. River-courses were

changed, forests were burnt up, and the whole face of the country was

completely altered.

Later volcanic eruptions in Java include that of 1843, when Mount Guntur

flung out sand and ashes estimated at the vast total of thirty million

tons, and those of 1849 and 1872 when Mount Merapi, a very active

volcano, covered a great extent of country with stones and ashes, and

ruined the coffee plantations of the neighboring districts.

We have said nothing concerning the most terrible explosion of all, that

of the volcanic island of Krakatoa, off the Javan coast. This event was

so phenomenal as to deserve a chapter of its own, for which we reserve

it.

The United States, as one result of its recent acquisition of island

dominions, has added largely to its wealth in volcanic mountains. The

famous Hawaiian craters, far the greatest in the world, now belong to

our national estate, and the Philippine Islands contain various others,

of less importance, yet some of which have proved very destructive. A

description of those of the Island of Luzon, which are the most active

in the archipelago, is here sub-joined.

THE LUZON VOLCANOES.

Volcanoes have played an important part in the formation of the

Philippine Islands and have left traces of their former activity in all

directions. Most of them, however, have long been dead and silent, only

a few of the once numerous group being now active. Of these there are

three of importance in the southern region of Luzon--Taal, Bulusan and

Mayon or Albay.

The last named of these is the largest and most active of the existing

volcanoes. In form it is of marvellous grace and beauty, forming a

perfect cone, about fifty miles in circuit at base and rising to a

height of 8,900 feet. It is one of the most prominent landmarks to

navigators in the island. From its crater streams upward a constant

smoke, accompanied at times by flame, while from its depths issue

subterranean sounds, often heard at a distance of many leagues. The

whole surrounding country is marked by evidences of old eruptions.

This mountain, in 1767, sent up a cone of flame of forty feet in

diameter at base, for ten days, and for two months a wide stream of lava

poured from its crater. A month later there gushed forth great floods of

water, which filled the rivers to overflow, doing widespread damage

to the neighboring plantations. But its greatest and most destructive

eruption took place in 1812, the year of the great eruption of the St.

Vincent volcano. On this fatal occasion several towns were destroyed and

no less than 12,000 people lost their lives. The debris flung forth

from the crater were so abundant that deposits deep enough to bury the

tallest trees were formed near the mountain. In 1867 another disastrous

explosion took place, and still another in 1888. A disaster different

in kind and cause occurred in 1876, when a terrible tropical storm burst

upon the mountain. The floods of rain swept from its sides the loose

volcanic material, and brought destruction to the neighboring country,

more than six thousand houses being ruined by the rushing flood.

BULUSAN AND TAAL

Bulusan, a volcano on the southern extremity of the island, resembles

Vesuvius in shape. For many years it remained dormant, but in 1852 smoke

began to issue from its crater. In some respects the most interesting

of these three volcanoes is that of Taal, which lies almost due south

of Manila and about forty-five miles distant, on a small island in

the middle of a large lake, known as Bombom or Bongbong. A remarkable

feature of this volcanic mountain is that it is probably the lowest in

the world, its height being only 850 feet above sea level. There are

doubtful traditions that Lake Bombom, a hundred square miles in extent,

was formed by a terrible eruption in 1700, by which a lofty mountain

8000 or 9000 feet high, was destroyed. The vast deposits of porous

tufa in the surrounding country are certainly evidences of former great

eruptions from Mount Taal.

The crater of this volcano is an immense, cup-shaped depression, a mile

or more in diameter and about 800 feet deep. When recently visited by

Professor Worcester, during his travels in these islands, he found it to

contain three boiling lakelets of strangely-colored water, one being of

a dirty brown hue, a second intensely yellow in tint, and the third of a

brilliant emerald green. The mountain still steams and fumes, as if too

actively at work below to be at rest above. In past times it has shown

the forces at play in its depths by breaking at times into frightful

activity. Of the various explosions on record, the three most violent

were those of 1716, 1749, and 1754. In the last-named year the earth for

miles round quaked with the convulsive throes of the deeply disturbed

mountain, and vast quantities of volcanic dust were hurled high into the

air, sufficient to make it dark at midday for many leagues around.

The roofs of distant Manila were covered with volcanic dust and ashes.

Molten lava also poured from the crater and flowed into the lake, which

boiled with the intense heat, while great showers of stones and ashes

fell into its waters.

VOLCANOES IN THE SOUTHERN ISLANDS

Extinct volcanoes are numerous in Luzon, and there are smoking cones

in the north, and also in the Babuyanes Islands still farther north.

Volcanoes also exist in several of the other islands. On Negros is the

active peak of Malaspina, and on Camiguin, an island about ninety miles

to the southeast, a new volcano broke out in 1876. The large island of

Mindanao has three volcanoes, of which Cottabato was in eruption in

1856 and is still active at intervals. Apo, the largest of the three,

estimated to be 10,312 feet high, has three summits, within which lies

the great crater, now extinct and filled with water.

In evidence of former volcanic activity are the abundant deposits of

sulphur on the island of Leyte, the hot springs in various localities,

and the earthquakes which occasionally bring death and destruction. Of

the many of these on record, the most destructive was in 1863, when 400

people were killed and 2,000 injured, while many buildings were wrecked.

Another in 1880 wrought great destruction in Manila and elsewhere,

though without loss of life. An earthquake in Mindanao in 1675 opened a

passage to the sea, and a vast plain emerged. These convulsions of the

earth affect the form and elevation of buildings, which are rarely more

than two stories high and lightly built, while translucent sea-shells

replace glass in their windows.

While Java is the most prolific in volcanoes of the islands of the

Malayan Archipelago, other islands of the group possess active cones,

including Sumatra, Bali, Amboyna, Banda and others. In Sanguir, an

island north of Celebes, is a volcanic mountain from which there was

a destructive eruption in 1856. The country was devastated with lava,

stones and volcanic ashes, ruining a wide district and killing nearly

3,000 of the inhabitants. Mount Madrian in one of the Spice Islands, was

rent in twain by a fierce eruption in 1646, and since then has remained

two distinct mountains. It became active again in 1862, after two

centuries of repose, and caused great loss of life and property.

Sorea, a small island of the same group, forming but a single volcanic

mountain, had an eruption in 1693, the cone crumbling gradually till

a vast crater was formed, filled with liquid lava and occupying nearly

half the island. This lake of fire increased in size by the same process

till in the end it took possession of the island and forced all the

inhabitants to flee to more hospitable shores.

THE GREAT ERUPTION OF TOMBORO

But of the East Indian Islands Sumbawa, lying east of Java, contains

the most formidable volcano--one indeed scarcely without a rival in the

world. This is named Tomboro. Of its various eruptions the most furious

on record was that of 1815. This, as we are told by Sir Stamford

Raffles, far exceeded in force and duration any of the known outbreaks

of Etna or Vesuvius. The ground trembled and the echoes of its roar

were heard through an area of 1,000 miles around the volcano, and to a

distance of 300 miles its effects were astounding.

In Java, 300 miles away, ashes filled the air so thickly that the solar

rays could not penetrate them, and fell to the depth of several inches.

The detonations were so similar to the reports of artillery as to be

mistaken for them. The Rajah of Sang’ir, who was an eye-witness of the

eruption, thus described it to Sir Stamford:

“About 7 P. M. on the 10th of April, three distinct columns of flame

burst forth near the top of the Tomboro mountain (all of them apparently

within the verge of the crater), and, after ascending separately to a

very great height, their tops united in the air in a troubled, confused

manner. In short time the whole mountain next Sang’ir appeared like a

body of liquid fire, extending itself in every direction. The fire

and columns of flame continued to rage with unabated fury, until the

darkness caused by the quantity of falling matter obscured them, at

about 8 P. M. Stones at this time fell very thick at Sang’ir--some

of them as large as two fists, but generally not larger than walnuts.

Between 9 and 10 P. M. ashes began to fall, and soon after a violent

whirlwind ensued, which blew down nearly every house in the village of

Sang’ir--carrying the roofs and light parts away with it. In the port of

Sang’ir, adjoining Tomboro, its effects were much more violent--tearing

up by the roots the largest trees, and carrying them into the air,

together with men, horses, cattle, and whatever else came within its

influence. This will account for the immense number of floating trees

seen at sea. The sea rose nearly twelve feet higher than it had ever

been known to do before, and completely spoiled the only spots of

rice-land in Sang’ir--sweeping away houses and everything within its

reach. The whirlwind lasted about an hour. No explosions were heard

till the whirlwind had ceased, at about 11 P.M. From midnight till the

evening of the 11th, they continued without intermission. After that

time their violence moderated, and they were heard only at intervals;

but the explosions did not cease entirely until the 15th of July. Of all

the villages of Tomboro, Tempo, containing about forty inhabitants,

is the only one remaining. In Pekate no vestige of a house is left;

twenty-six of the people, who were at Sumbawa at the time, are the whole

of the population who have escaped. From the most particular inquiries

I have been able to make, there were certainly no fewer than 12,000

individuals in Tomboro and Pekate at the time of the eruption, of whom

only five or six survive. The trees and herbage of every description,

along the whole of the north and west sides of the peninsula, have been

completely destroyed, with the exception of those on a high point of

land, near the spot where the village of Tomboro stood.”

Tomboro village was not only invaded by the sea on this occasion, but

its site permanently subsided; so that there is now eighteen feet of

water where there was formerly dry land.

THE VOLCANOES OF JAPAN

The Japanese archipelago, as stated in an earlier chapter, is abundantly

supplied with volcanoes, a number of them being active. Of these the

best known to travelers is Asamayama, a mountain 8,500 feet high, of

which there are several recorded eruptions. The first of these was in

1650; after which the volcano remained feebly active till 1783, when it

broke out in a very severe eruption. In 1870 there was another of some

severity, accompanied by violent shocks of earthquake felt at Yokohama.

The crater is very deep, with irregular rocky walls of a sulphurous

character.

Far the most famous of all the Japanese mountains, however, is that

named Fuji-san, but commonly termed in English Fujiyama or Fusiyama. It

is in the vicinity of the capital, and is the most prominent object in

the landscape for many miles around. The apex is shaped somewhat like an

eight-petaled lotus flower, and offers to view from different directions

from three to five peaks.

Though now apparently extinct, it was formerly an active volcano, and is

credited in history with several very disastrous eruptions. The last

of these was in 1707, at which time the whole summit burst into flames.

Rocks were split and shattered by the heat, and stones fell to the depth

of several inches in Yeddo (now Tokyo), sixty miles away. At present

there are in its crater, which has a depth of 700 or 800 feet, neither

sulphurous exhalations nor steam. According to Japanese tradition this

great peak was upheaved in a single night from the bottom of the sea,

more than twenty-one hundred years ago.

Nothing can be more majestic than this volcano, extinct though it be,

rising in an immense cone from the plain to the height of over twelve

thousand feet, truncated at the top, and with its peak almost always

snow-covered. Its ascent is not difficult to an expert climber, and has

frequently been made. From its summit is unfolded a panorama beyond

the power of words to describe, and probably the most remarkable on the

globe. Mountains, valleys, lakes, forests and the villages of thirteen

counties may be seen. As we gaze upon its beautifully shaped and lofty

mass, visible even from Yokohama and a hundred miles at sea, one does

not wonder that it should be regarded as a holy mountain, and that it

should form a conspicuous object in every Japanese work of art. It is

to the natives of Japan as Mont Blanc is to Europeans, the “monarch of

mountains.”

In summer pilgrimages are made around the base of the summit elevation,

and there are on the upward path a number of Buddhist temples and

shrines, made of blocks of stone, for devotion, shelter and the storage

of food for pilgrims. Hakone Lake is three thousand feet above the sea,

and probably lies in the crater of an extinct volcano. Its waters are

very deep; it is several miles long and wide, and is surrounded by high

hills which abound in fine scenery, solfataras and mineral springs.

HOT SPRINGS NEAR HAKONE LAKE

At this place the mountain seems to be smouldering, as sulphur fumes

and steam issue at many points, and the ground is covered with a friable

white alkaline substance. In many a hollow the water bubbles with clouds

of vapor and sulphuretted hydrogen; here the soil is hot and evidently

underlaid by active fires. It is not safe to go very near, as the crust

is thin and crumbling. The water running down the hills has a refreshing

sound and a tempting clearness, but the thirsty tongue at once detects

it to be a very strong solution of alum. The whole aspect of the place

is infernal, and naturally suggests the name given its principal geyser,

O-gigoko (Big Hell).

Fujiyama is almost a perfect cone, with, as above said, a truncated top,

in which is the crater. It is, however, less steep than Mayon. Its upper

part is comparatively steep, even to thirty-five degrees, but below this

portion the inclination gradually lessens, till its elegant outlines are

lost in the plain from which it rises. The curves of the sides depend

partly on the nature, size and shape of the ejected material, the fine

uniform pieces remaining on comparatively steep slopes, while the larger

and rounder ones roll farther down, resting on the inclination that

afterward becomes curved from the subsidence of the central mass.

The most recent and one of the most destructive of volcanic eruptions

recorded in Japan was that of Bandaisan or Baldaisan. For ages this

mountain had been peaceful, and there was scarcely an indication of

its volcanic character or of the terrific forces which lay dormant deep

within its heart. On its flanks lay some small deposits of scoriae,

indications of far-past eruptions, and there were some hot springs at

its base, while steam arose from a fissure. Yet there was nothing to

warn the people of the vicinity that deadly peril lay under their feet.

BANDAISAN’S WORK OF TERROR

This sense of security was fatally dissipated on a day in July, 1888,

when the mountain suddenly broke into eruption and flung 1,600 million

cubic yards of its summit material so high into the air that many of the

falling fragments, in their fall, struck the ground with such velocity

as to be buried far out of sight. The steam and dust were driven to a

height of 13,000 feet, where they spread into a canopy of much greater

elevation, causing pitchy darkness beneath. There were from fifteen to

twenty violent explosions, and a great landslide devastated about thirty

square miles and buried many villages in the Nagase Valley.

Mr. Norman, a traveler who visited the spot shortly afterward, thus

describes the scene of ruin. After a journey through the forests which

clothed the slopes of the volcanic mountain and prevented any distant

view, the travelers at last found themselves “standing upon the ragged

edge of what was left of the mountain of Bandaisan, after two-thirds of

it, including, of course, the summit, had been literally blown away and

spread over the face of the country.

“The original cone of the mountain,” he continues, “had been truncated

at an acute angle to its axis. From our very feet a precipitous mud

slope falls away for half a mile or more till it reaches the level. At

our right, still below us, rises a mud wall a mile long, also sloping

down to the level, and behind it is evidently the crater; but before us,

for five miles in a straight line, and on each side nearly as far, is

a sea of congealed mud, broken up into ripples and waves and great

billows, and bearing upon its bosom a thousand huge boulders, weighing

hundreds of tons apiece.”

On reaching the crater he found it to resemble a gigantic cauldron,

fully a mile in width, and enclosed with precipitous walls of indurated

mud. From several orifices volumes of steam rose into the air, and when

the vapor cleared away for a moment glimpses of a mass of boiling mud

were obtained. Before the eruption the mountain top had terminated in

three peaks. Of these the highest had an elevation of about 5,800 feet.

The peak destroyed was the middle one, which was rather smaller than the

other two.

“The explosion was caused by steam; there was neither fire nor lava of

any kind. It was, in fact, nothing more nor less than a gigantic boiler

explosion. The whole top and one side of Sho-Bandai-san had been blown

into the air in a lateral direction, and the earth of the mountain was

converted by the escaping steam, at the moment of the explosion, into

boiling mud, part of which was projected into the air to fall at a long

distance, and then take the form of an overflowing river, which rushed

with vast rapidity and covered the country to a depth of from 20 to 150

feet. Thirty square miles of country were thus devastated.”

In the devastated lowlands and buried villages below and on the slopes

of the mountain many lives were lost. From the survivors Mr. Norman

gathered some information, enabling him to describe the main features of

the catastrophe. We append a brief outline of his narrative:

MR. NORMAN’S NARRATIVE

“At a few minutes past 8 o’clock in the morning a frightful noise was

heard by the inhabitants of a village ten miles distant from the crater.

Some of them instinctively took to flight, but before they could run

much more than a hundred yards the light of day was suddenly changed

into a darkness more intense than that of midnight; a shower of blinding

hot ashes and sand poured down upon them; the ground was shaken with

earthquakes, and explosion followed explosion, the last being the most

violent of all. Many fugitives, as well as people in the houses, were

overwhelmed by the deluge of mud, none of the fugitives, when overtaken

by death, being more than two hundred yards from the village.” From the

statements made by those fortunate enough to escape with their lives,

and from a personal examination of the ground, Mr. Norman inferred that

the mud must have been flung fully six miles through the air and then

have poured in a torrent along the ground for four miles further. All

this was done in less than five minutes, so that “millions of tons of

boiling mud were hurled over the country at the rate of two miles a

minute.”

The velocity of the mud torrent may perhaps be overestimated, but in its

awful suddenness this catastrophe was evidently one with few equals. The

cone destroyed may have been largely composed of rather fine ashes and

scoriae, which was almost instantaneously converted into mud by the

condensing steam and the boiling water ejected. The quantity of water

thus discharged must have been enormous.

Of the remaining volcanic regions of the Pacific, the New Zealand

islands present some of the most striking examples of activity. All

the central parts, indeed, of the northern island of the group are of a

highly volcanic character. There is here a mountain named Tongariro, on

whose snow-clad summit is a deep crater, from which volcanic vapors are

seen to issue, and which exhibits other indications of having been in a

state of greater activity at a not very remote period of time. There

is also, at no great distance from this mountain, a region containing

numerous funnel-shaped chasms, emitting hot water, or steam, or

sulphurous vapors, or boiling mud. The earthquakes in New Zealand had

probably their origin in this volcanic focus.

THE NEW ZEALAND VOLCANOES

Tongariro has a height of about 6,500 feet, while Egmont, 8,270 feet in

height, is a perfect cone with a perpetual cap of snow. There are many

other volcanic mountains, and also great numbers of mud volcanoes, hot

springs and geysers. It is for the latter that the island is best known

to geologists. Their waters are at or near the boiling point and contain

silica in abundance.

At a place called Rotomahana, in the vicinity of Mount Tarawera, there

was formerly a lake of about one hundred and twenty acres in area,

which was in its way one of the most remarkable bodies of water upon the

earth. Formerly, we say, for this lake no longer exists, it having been

destroyed by the very forces to which it owed its fame. Its waters were

maintained nearly at the boiling point by the continual accession of

boiling water from numerous springs. The most abundant of those sources

was situated at the height of about 100 feet above the level of the

lake. It kept continually filled an oval basin about 250 feet in

circumference--the margins of which were fringed all round with

beautiful pure white stalactites, formed by deposits of silica, with

which the hot water was strongly impregnated. At various stages below

the principal spring were several others, that contributed to feed the

lake at the bottom, in the centre of which was a small island. Minute

bubbles continually escaped from the surface of the water with a hissing

sound, and the sand all round the lake was at a high temperature. If a

stick was thrust into it, very hot vapors would ascend from the hole.

Not far from this lake were several small basins filled with tepid

water, which was very clear, and of a blue color.

The conditions here were of a kind with those to which are due the great

geysers of Iceland and the Yellowstone Park, but different in the fact

that instead of being intermittent and throwing up jets at intervals,

the springs allowed the water to flow from them in a continuous stream.

THE PINK AND WHITE TERRACES

The silicious incrustations left by the overflow from the large pool had

made a series of terraces, two to six feet high, with the appearance of

being hewn from white or pink marble; each of the basins containing

a similar azure water. These terraces covered an area of about three

acres, and looked like a series of cataracts changed into stone, each

edge being fringed with a festoon of delicate stalactites. The water

contained about eighty-five per cent. of silica, with one or two per

cent of iron alumina, and a little alkali.

There were no more beautiful products of nature upon the earth than

those “pink and white terraces,” as they were called. The hot springs of

the Yellowstone have produced formations resembling them, but not

their equal in fairy-like charm. One series of these terraced pools and

cascades was of the purest white tint, the other of the most delicate

pink, the waters topping over the edge of each pool and falling in a

miniature cascade to the one next below, thus keeping the edges built

up by a continual renewal of the silicious incrustation. But all their

beauty could not save them from utter and irremediable destruction by

the forces below the earth’s surface.

On June 9, 1886, a great volcanic disturbance began in the Auckland Lake

region with a tremendous earthquake, followed during the night by many

others. At seven the next morning a lead-covered cloud of pumice sand,

advancing from the south, burst and discharged showers of fine dust.

The range of Mount Tarawera seemed to be in full volcanic activity,

including some craters supposed to be extinct, and embracing an area of

one hundred and twenty miles by twenty.

The showers of dust were so thick as to turn day into night for nearly

two days. Some lives were lost, and several villages were destroyed,

these being covered ten feet deep with ashes, dust and clayey mud. The

volcanic phenomena were of the most violent character, and the whole

island appears to have been more or less convulsed. Mount Tarawera is

said to be five hundred feet higher than before the eruption; glowing

masses were thrown up into the air, and tongues of fiery hue, gases or

illuminated vapors, five hundred feet wide, towered up one thousand feet

high. The mountain was 2,700 feet in height.

TARAWERA IN ERUPTION

This eruption presented a spectacle of rarely-equalled grandeur.

To travelers and strangers the greatest resultant loss will be the

destruction of those world-famous curiosities, the white and pink

terraces, in the vicinity of Lake Rotomahana and the region of the

famous geysers. The natives have a superstition that the eruption of the

extinct Tarawera was caused by the profanation of foreign footsteps. It

was to them a sacred place, and its crater a repository for their dead.

The first earthquake occurred in this region. One side of the mountain

fell in, and then the eruption began. The basin of the lake was broken

up and disappeared, but again reappeared as a boiling mud cauldron;

craters burst out in various places, and the beautiful terraces were no

more. After the first day the violence gradually diminished, and in a

week had ceased. Very possibly another lake will be formed, and in time

other terraces; but it is hardly within the range of probability that

the beauty of the lost terraces will ever be paralleled.

In this eruption, as usual, we find the earthquake preceding the

volcanic outburst. New Zealand, like the Philippines, Java and the

Japanese Islands, is situated over a great earth-fissure or line of

weakness. Subsidence or dislocation from tensile strain of the crust

took place, and the influx of water to new regions of heated strata

may have developed the explosive force. The earthquake and the volcano

worked together here, as they frequently do, unfortunately in this case

destroying one of the most beautiful scenes on the surface of the globe.

THE ANTARCTIC VOLCANOES

Much further south, on the frozen shore of Victoria Land in the

Antarctic regions, Sir James Ross, in 1841, sailing in his discovery

ships the Erebus and Terror, discovered two great volcanic mountains,

which he named after those two vessels. Mount Erebus is continually

covered, from top to bottom, with snow and glaciers. The mountain is

about 12,000 feet high, and although the snow reaches to the very edge

of the crater, there rise continually from the summit immense volumes of

volcanic fumes, illuminated by the glare of glowing lava beneath them.

The vapors ascend to an estimated height of 2,200 feet above the top of

the mountain.

CHAPTER XXV.

The Wonderful Hawaiian Craters and Kilauea’s Lake of Fire.

In the central region of the North Pacific Ocean lies the archipelago

formerly known as the Sandwich Islands, now collectively designated as

Hawaii. The people of the United States should be specially interested

in this island group, for it has become one of our possessions, an

outlying Territory of our growing Republic, and in making it part of

our national domain we have not alone extended our dominion far over the

seas, but have added to the many marvels of nature within our land one

of the chief wonders of the world, the stupendous Hawaiian

volcanoes, before whose grandeur many of more ancient fame sink into

insignificance.

THE ISLAND OF HAWAII

The Island of Hawaii, the principal island of the group, we may safely

say contains the most enormous volcano of the earth. Indeed, the whole

island, which is 4000 square miles in extent, may be regarded as of

volcanic origin. It contains four volcanic mountains--Kohola, Hualalia,

Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa. The two last named are the chief, the former

being 13,800 feet, the latter 13,600 feet, above the sea-level. Although

their height is so vast, the ascent to their summits is so gradual that

their circumference at the base is enormous. The bulk of each of them is

reckoned to be equal to two and a half times that of Etna. Some of the

streams of lava which have emanated from them are twenty-six miles in

length by two miles in breadth.

On the adjoining island of Maui is a still larger volcano, the mighty

Haleakala, long since extinct, but memorable as possessing the most

stupendous crater on the face of the earth. The mountain itself is

over 10,000 feet high, and forms a great dome-like mass of 90 miles

circumference at base. The crater on its summit has a length of 7 1/2

and a width of 2 1/4 miles, with a total area of about sixteen square

miles. The only approach in dimensions to this enormous opening exists

in the still living crater of Kilauea, on the flank of Mauna Loa.

A VOLCANIC ISLAND GROUP

The peaks named are the most apparent remnants of a world-rending

volcanic activity in the remote past, by whose force this whole Hawaiian

island group was lifted up from the depths of the ocean, here descending

some three and a half miles below the surface level. The coral reefs

which abound around the islands are of comparatively recent formation,

and rest upon a substratum of lava probably ages older, which forms the

base of the archipelago. The islands are volcanic peaks and ridges that

have been pushed up above the surrounding seas by the profound action of

the interior forces of the earth.

It must not be supposed that this action was a violent perpendicular

thrust upward over a very limited locality, for the mountains continue

to slope at about the same angle under the sea and for great distances

on every side, so that the islands are really the crests of an extensive

elevation, estimated to cover an area of about 2000 miles in one

direction by 150 or 200 miles in the other. The process was probably

a gradual one of up-building, by means of which the sea receded as the

land steadily rose. Some idea of the mighty forces that have been at

work beneath the sea and above it can be gained by considering the

enormous mass of material now above the sea-level. Thus, the bulk of the

island of Hawaii, the largest of the group, has been estimated by the

Hawaiian Surveyor General as containing 3,600 cubic miles of lava rock

above sea-level. Taking the area of England at 50,000 square miles, this

mass of volcanic matter would cover that entire country to a depth of

274 feet. We must remember, however, that what is above sea-level is

only a small fraction of the total amount, since it sweeps down below

the waves hundreds of miles on every side.

CRATER OF HALEAKALA

Of the lava openings on these islands, the extinct one of Haleakala,

as stated, with its twenty-seven miles circumference, is far the most

stupendous. It is easy of access, the mountain sides leading to it

presenting a gentle slope; while the walls of the crater, in places

perpendicular, in others are so sloping that man and horse can descend

them. The pit varies from 1500 to 2000 feet in depth, its bottom being

very irregular from the old lava flows and the many cinder cones, these

still looking as fresh as though their fires had just gone out. Some

of these cones are over 500 feet high. There is a tradition among the

natives that the vast lava streams which in the past flowed from the

crater to the sea continued to do so in the period of their remote

ancestors. They still, indeed, appear as if recent, though there are

to-day no signs of volcanic activity anywhere on this island.

In fact, the only volcano now active in the Hawaiian Islands is Mauna

Loa, in the southern section of the Island of Hawaii. A striking feature

of this is that it has two distinct and widely disconnected craters, one

on its summit, the other on its flank, at a much lower level. The latter

is the vast crater of Kilauea, the largest active crater known on the

face of the globe.

MISS BIRD IN THE CRATER OF KILAUEA

We cannot offer a better description of the aspect of this lava abyss

than to give Miss Bird’s eloquent description of her adventurous descent

into it:

“The abyss, which really is at a height of four thousand feet on the

flank of Mauna Loa, has the appearance of a pit on a rolling plain. But

such a pit! It is quite nine miles in circumference, and at its lowest

area--which not long ago fell about three hundred feet, just as the ice

on a pond falls when the water below is withdrawn--covers six square

miles. The depth of the crater varies from eight hundred to one thousand

feet, according as the molten sea below is at flood or ebb. Signs of

volcanic activity are present more or less throughout its whole depth

and for some distance along its margin, in the form of steam-cracks,

jets of sulphurous vapor, blowing cones, accumulating deposits of

acicular crystals of sulphur, etc., and the pit itself is constantly

rent and shaken by earthquakes. Great eruptions occur with circumstances

of indescribable terror and dignity; but Kilauea does not limit its

activity to these outbursts, but has exhibited its marvellous phenomena

through all known time in a lake or lakes on the southern part of the

crater three miles from this side.

“This lake--the Hale-mau-mau, or ‘House of everlasting Fire’, of

the Hawaiian mythology, the abode of the dreaded goddess Pele--is

approachable with safety, except during an eruption. The spectacle,

however, varies almost daily; and at times the level of the lava in the

pit within a pit is so low, and the suffocating gases are evolved in

such enormous quantities, that travellers are unable to see anything.

“At the time of our visit there had been no news from it for a week; and

as nothing was to be seen but a very faint bluish vapor hanging round

its margin, the prospect was not encouraging. After more than an hour

of very difficult climbing, we reached the lowest level of the crater,

pretty nearly a mile across, presenting from above the appearance of a

sea at rest; but on crossing it, we found it to be an expanse of waves

and convolutions of ashy-colored lava, with huge cracks filled up with

black iridescent rolls of lava only a few weeks old. Parts of it are

very rough and ridgy, jammed together like field-ice, or compacted by

rolls of lava, which may have swelled up from beneath; but the largest

part of the area presents the appearance of huge coiled hawsers, the

ropy formation of the lava rendering the illusion almost perfect. These

are riven by deep cracks, which emit hot sulphurous vapors.

“As we ascended, the flow became hotter under our feet, as well as more

porous and glistening. It was so hot that a shower of rain hissed as it

fell upon it. The crust became increasingly insecure, and necessitated

our walking in single file with the guide in front, to test the security

of the footing. I fell through several times, and always into holes full

of sulphurous steam so malignantly acid that my strong dogskin gloves

were burned through as I raised myself on my hands.

“We had followed the lava-flow for thirty miles up to the crater’s

brink, and now we had toiled over recent lava for three hours, and, by

all calculations, were close to the pit; yet there was no smoke or sign

of fire, and I felt sure that the volcano had died out for once for my

special disappointment.

“Suddenly, just above and in front of us, gory drops were tossed in

the air, and springing forwards, we stood on the brink of Hale-mau-mau,

which was about thirty-five feet below us. I think we all screamed. I

know we all wept; but we were speechless, for a new glory and terror had

been added to the earth. It is the most unutterable of wonderful things.

The words of common speech are quite useless. It is unimaginable,

indescribable; a sight to remember forever; a sight which at once took

possession of every faculty of sense and soul, removing one altogether

out of the range of ordinary life. Here was the real ‘bottomless pit’,

‘the fire which is not quenched’, ‘the place of Hell’, ‘the lake which

burneth with fire and brimstone’, ‘the everlasting burnings’, ‘the fiery

sea whose waves are never weary’. Perhaps those Scripture phrases

were suggested by the sight of some volcano in eruption. There were

groanings, rumblings, and detonations; rushings, hissings, splashings,

and the crashing sound of breakers on the coast; but it was the surging

of fiery waves upon a fiery shore. But what can I write? Such words as

jets, fountains, waves, spray, convey some idea of order and regularity,

but here there are none.

“The inner lake, while we stood there, formed a sort of crater within

itself; the whole lava sea rose about three feet; a blowing cone about

eight feet high was formed; it was never the same two minutes together.

And what we saw had no existence a month before, and probably will be

changed in every essential feature a month from hence. The prominent

object was fire in motion; but the surface of the double lake was

continually skimming over for a second or two with a cool crust of

lustrous grey-white, like frost-silver, broken by jagged cracks of a

bright rose-color. The movement was nearly always from the sides to the

centre; but the movement of the centre itself appeared independent, and

always took a southerly direction. Before each outburst of agitation

there was much hissing and throbbing, with internal roaring as of

imprisoned gases. Now it seemed furious, demoniacal, as if no power

on earth could bind it, then playful and sportive; then for a second

languid, but only because it was accumulating fresh force. Sometimes the

whole lake took the form of mighty waves, and, surging heavily against

the partial barrier with a sound like the Pacific surf, lashed, tore,

covered it, and threw itself over it in clots of living fire. It was all

confusion, commotion, forces, terror, glory, majesty, mystery, and even

beauty. And the color, ‘eye hath not seen’ it! Molten metal hath not

that crimson gleam, nor blood that living light.”

To this description we may add that of Mr. Ellis, a former missionary to

these islands, and one of the number who have descended to the shores of

Kilauea’s abyss of fire. He says, after describing his difficult descent

and progress over the lava-strewn pit:

MR. ELLIS VISITS THE LAKE OF LAVA

“Immediately before us yawned an immense gulf, in the form of a

crescent, about two miles in length, from northeast to southwest; nearly

a mile in width, and apparently 800 feet deep. The bottom was covered

with lava, and the southwestern and northern parts of it were one vast

flood of burning matter in a state of terrific ebullition, rolling

to and fro its ‘fiery surges’ and flaming billows. Fifty-one conical

islands, of varied form and size, containing as many craters, rose

either round the edge or from the surface of the burning lake;

twenty-two constantly emitted columns of gray smoke or pyramids of

brilliant flame, and several of these at the same time vomited from

their ignited mouths streams of lava, which rolled in blazing torrents

down their black indented sides into the boiling mass below.

“The existence of these conical craters led us to conclude that the

boiling cauldron of lava before us did not form the focus of the

volcano; that this mass of melted lava was comparatively shallow, and

that the basin in which it was contained was separated by a stratum of

solid matter from the great volcanic abyss, which constantly poured

out its melted contents through these numerous craters into this

upper reservoir. The sides of the gulf before us, although composed of

different strata of ancient lava, were perpendicular for about 400 feet,

and rose from a wide horizontal ledge of solid black lava of irregular

breadth, but extending completely round. Beneath this ledge the sides

sloped gradually towards the burning lake, which was, as nearly as we

could judge, 300 or 400 feet lower.

“It was evident that the large crater had been recently filled with

liquid lava up to this black ledge, and had, by some subterraneous

canal, emptied itself into the sea or spread under the low land on the

shore. The gray and in some places apparently calcined sides of the

great crater before us, the fissures which intersected the surface of

the plain on which we were standing, the long banks of sulphur on the

opposite side of the abyss, the vigorous action of the numerous small

craters on its borders, the dense columns of vapor and smoke that rose

at the north and west end of the plain, together with the ridge of steep

rocks by which it was surrounded, rising probably in some places 300

or 400 feet in perpendicular height, presented an immense volcanic

panorama, the effect of which was greatly augmented by the constant

roaring of the vast furnaces below.”

MAUNA LOA IN ERUPTION

Of the two great craters of Mauna Loa, the summit one has frequently

in modern times overflowed its crest and poured its molten streams in

glowing rivers over the land. This has rarely been the case with the

lower and incessantly active crater of Kilauea, whose lava, when in

excess, appears to escape by subterranean channels to the sea. We append

descriptions of some of the more recent examples of Mauna Loa’s eruptive

energy. The lava from this crater does not alone flow over the crater’s

lip, but at times makes its way through fissures far below, the immense

pressure causing it to spout in great flashing fountains high into the

air. In 1852 the fiery fountains reached a height of 500 feet. In some

later eruptions they have leaped 1,000 feet high. The lava is white hot

as it ascends, but it assumes a blood-red tint in its fall, and strikes

the ground with a frightful noise.

The quantities of lava ejected in some of the recent eruptions have been

enormous. The river-like flow of 1855 was remarkable for its extent,

being from two to eight miles wide, with a depth of from three to three

hundred feet, and extending in a winding course for a distance of sixty

miles. The Apostle of Hawaiian volcanoes, the Rev. Titus Coan, who

ventured to the source of this flow while it was in supreme action, thus

describes it:--

“We ascended our rugged pathway amidst steam and smoke and heat which

almost blinded and scathed us. We came to open orifices down which we

looked into the fiery river which rushed madly under our feet. These

fiery vents were frequent, some of them measuring ten, twenty, fifty

or one hundred feet in diameter. In one place we saw the river of lava

uncovered for thirty rods and rushing down a declivity of from ten to

twenty-five degrees. The scene was awful, the momentum incredible, the

fusion perfect (white heat), and the velocity forty miles an hour. The

banks on each side of the stream were red-hot, jagged and overhanging.

As we viewed it rushing out from under its ebon counterpane, and in the

twinkling of an eye diving again into its fiery den, it seemed to say,

‘Stand off! Scan me not! I am God’s messenger. A work to do. Away!’”

Later he wrote again:--“The great summit fountain is still playing with

fearful energy, and the devouring stream rushes madly down toward us. It

is now about ten miles distant, and heading directly for our bay. In

a few days we may be called to announce the painful fact that our

beauteous Hilo is no more,--that our lovely, our inimitable landscape,

our emerald bowers, our crescent strand and our silver bay are blotted

out. A fiery sword hangs over us. A flood of burning ruin approaches us.

Devouring fires are near us. With sure and solemn progress the glowing

fusion advances through the dark forest and the dense jungle in our

rear, cutting down ancient trees of enormous growth and sweeping away

all vegetable life. For months the great summit furnace on Mauna Loa has

been in awful blast. Floods of burning destruction have swept wildly

and widely over the top and down the sides of the mountain. The wrathful

stream has overcome every obstacle, winding its fiery way from its high

source to the bases of the everlasting hills, spreading in a molten sea

over the plains, penetrating the ancient forests, driving the bellowing

herds, the wild goats and the affrighted birds before its lurid glare,

leaving nothing but ebon blackness and smoldering ruin in its track.”

His anticipation of the burial of Hilo under the mighty flow was happily

not realized. It came to an abrupt halt while seven miles distant, the

checked stream standing in a threatening and rugged ridge, with rigid,

beetling front.

THE ERUPTIONS OF 1859 AND 1865

In January, 1859, Mauna Loa was again at its fire-play, throwing up

lava fountains from 800 to 1,000 feet in height. From this great fiery

fountain the lava flowed down in numerous streams, spreading over a

width of five or six miles. One stream, probably formed by the junction

of several smaller, attained a height of from twenty to twenty-five

feet, and a breadth of about an eighth of a mile. Great stones were

thrown up along with the jet of lava, and the volume of seeming smoke,

composed probably of fine volcanic dust, is said to have risen to the

height of 10,000 feet.

An eruption of still greater violence took place in 1865, characterized

by similar phenomena, particularly the throwing up of jets of lava. This

fiery fountain continued to play without intermission for twenty days

and nights, varying only as respects the height to which the jet arose,

which is said to have ranged between 100 and 1,000 feet, the mean

diameter of the jet being about 100 feet. This eruption was accompanied

by explosions so loud as to have been heard at a distance of forty

miles.

A cone of about 300 feet in height, and about a mile in circumference,

was accumulated round the orifice whence the jet ascended. It was

composed of solid matters ejected with the lava, and it continued

to glow like a furnace, notwithstanding its exposure to the air. The

current of lava on this occasion flowed to a distance of thirty-five

miles, burning its way through the forests, and filling the air with

smoke and flames from the ignited timber. The glare from the glowing

lava and the burning trees together was discernible by night at a

distance of 200 miles from the island.

THE LAVA FLOW OF 1880

A succeeding great lava flow was that which began on November 6, 1880.

Mr. David Hitchcock, who was camping on Mauna Kea at the time of this

outbreak, saw a spectacle that few human eyes have ever beheld. “We

stood,” writes he, “on the very edge of that flowing river of rock. Oh,

what a sight it was! Not twenty feet from us was this immense bed of

rock slowly moving forward with irresistible force, bearing on its

surface huge rocks and immense boulders of tons’ weight as water would

carry a toy-boat. The whole front edge was one bright red mass of solid

rock incessantly breaking off from the towering mass and rolling down

to the foot of it, to be again covered by another avalanche of white-hot

rocks and sand. The whole mass at its front edge was from twelve to

thirty feet in height. Along the entire line of its advance it was

one crash of rolling, sliding, tumbling red-hot rock. We could hear no

explosions while we were near the flow, only a tremendous roaring like

ten thousand blast furnaces all at work at once.”

This was the most extensive flow of recent years, and its progress from

the interior plain through the dense forests above Hilo and out on to

the open levels close to the town was startling and menacing enough.

Through the woods especially it was a turbulent, seething mass that

hurled down mammoth trees, and licked up streams of water, and day and

night kept up an unintermitting cannonade of explosions. The steam

and imprisoned gases would burst the congealing surface with loud

detonations that could be heard for many miles. It was not an infrequent

thing for parties to camp out close to the flow over night. Ordinarily a

lava-flow moves sluggishly and congeals rapidly, so that what seems

like hardihood in the narrating is in reality calm judgment, for it is

perfectly safe to be in the close vicinity of a lava-stream, and even to

walk on its surface as soon as one would be inclined to walk on cooling

iron in a foundry. This notable flow finally ceased within half a mile

of Hilo, where its black form is a perpetual reminder of a marvellous

deliverance from destruction.

KILAUEA IN 1840

Kilauea seems never, in historic times, to have filled and overflowed

its vast crater. To do so would need an almost inconceivable volume of

liquid rock material. But it approached this culmination in 1840, when

it became, through its whole extent, a raging sea of fire. The boiling

lava rose in the mighty mountain-cup to a height of from 500 to

600 feet. Then it forced a passage through a subterranean cavity

twenty-seven miles long, and reached the sea forty miles distant, in two

days. The stream where it fell into the sea was half a mile wide, and

the flow kept up for three weeks, heating the ocean twenty miles from

land. An eye-witness of this extraordinary flow thus describes it:

“When the torrent of fire precipitated itself into the ocean, the

scene assumed a character of terrific and indescribable grandeur. The

magnificence of destruction was never more perceptibly displayed than

when these antagonistic elements met in deadly strife. The mightiest of

earth’s magazines of fire poured forth its burning billows to meet the

mightiest of oceans. For two score miles it came rolling, tumbling,

swelling forward, an awful agent of death. Rocks melted like wax in its

path; forests crackled and blazed before its fervent heat; the works of

man were to it but as a scroll in the flames. Imagine Niagara’s stream,

above the brink of the Falls, with its dashing, whirling, madly-raging

waters hurrying on to their plunge, instantaneously converted into fire;

a gory-hued river of fused minerals; volumes of hissing steam arising;

some curling upward from ten thousand vents, which give utterance to

as many deep-toned mutterings, and sullen, confined clamorings; gases

detonating and shrieking as they burst from their hot prison-house;

the heavens lurid with flame; the atmosphere dark and oppressive; the

horizon murky with vapors and gleaming with the reflected contest!

“Such was the scene as the fiery cataract, leaping a precipice of fifty

feet, poured its flood upon the ocean. The old line of coast, a mass

of compact, indurated lava, whitened, cracked and fell. The waters

recoiled, and sent forth a tempest of spray; they foamed and dashed

around and over the melted rock, they boiled with the heat, and the roar

of the conflicting agencies grew fiercer and louder. The reports of the

exploding gases were distinctly heard twenty-five miles distant, and

were likened to a whole broadside of heavy artillery. Streaks of the

intensest light glanced like lightning in all directions; the outskirts

of the burning lava as it fell, cooled by the shock, were shivered into

millions of fragments, and scattered by the strong wind in sparkling

showers far into the country. For three successive weeks the volcano

disgorged an uninterrupted burning tide, with scarcely any diminution,

into the ocean. On either side, for twenty miles, the sea became heated,

with such rapidity that, on the second day of the junction of the lava

with the ocean, fishes came ashore dead in great numbers, at a point

fifteen miles distant. Six weeks later, at the base of the hills, the

water continued scalding hot, and sent forth steam at every wash of the

waves.”

THE SINKING OF KILAUEA’S FIRE-LAKE

In 1866 the great crater of Kilauea presented a new and unlooked-for

spectacle in the sinking and vanishing of its great lava lake. In March

of that year the fires in the ancient cauldron totally disappeared, and

the surrounding lava rock sank to a depth of nearly 600 feet. Mr. Thrum,

in a pamphlet on “The Suspended Activity of Kilauea,” says of it:

“Distant rumbling noises were heard, accompanied by a series of

earthquakes, forty-three in number. With the fourth shock the brilliancy

of New Lake disappeared, and towards 3 A. M. the fires in Halemaumau

disappeared also, leaving the whole crater in darkness.

“With the dawn the shocks and noises ceased, and revealed the

changes which Kilauea had undergone in the night. All the high cliffs

surrounding Halemaumau and New Lake, which had become a prominent

feature in the crater, had vanished entirely, and the molten lava of

both lakes had disappeared by some subterranean passage from the bottom

of Halemaumau. There was no material change in the sunken portion of the

crater except a continual falling in of rocks and debris from its

banks as the contraction from its former intense heat loosened their

compactness and sent them hurling some 200 or 300 feet below, giving

forth at times a boom as of distant thunder, followed by clouds

of cinders and ashes shooting up into the air 100 to 300 feet,

proportionate, doubtless, to the size of the newly fallen mass.

“This remarkable recession of the liquid lava in Halemaumau was probably

due to the opening of some deep subterranean passage through which the

lake of lava made its way unseen to the ocean’s depths. The Rev. Mr.

Baker, probably the most adventuresome explorer of Hawaiian volcanoes,

actually descended into that crumbling pit to a point within what he

judged to be fifty feet of the bottom. But Halemaumau had only taken

an intermission, for in two short months signs of returning life became

frequent and unmistakable, and, in June, culminated in the sudden

outbreak of a lake that has since then steadily increased in activity.”

THE GODDESS PELE

We cannot close this chapter without some reference to the Goddess Pele,

to whom the Hawaiians long imputed the wonder-work of their volcanic

mountains. When there is unusual commotion in Kilauea myriads of

thread-like filaments float in the air and fall upon the cliffs, making

deposits much resembling matted hair. A single filament over fifteen

inches long was picked up on a Hilo veranda, having sailed in the air

a distance of fifty miles. This is the famous Pele’s Hair, being the

glass-like product of volcanic fires. It resembles Prince Rupert’s

Drops, and the tradition is that whenever the volcano becomes active

it is because Pele, the Goddess of the crater, emerges from her fiery

furnace and shakes her vitreous locks in anger.

This fabled being, according to Emerson, in a paper on “The Lesser

Hawaiian Gods,” “could at times assume the appearance of a handsome

young woman, as when Kamapauaa, to his cost, was smitten with her charms

when first he saw her with her sisters at Kilauea.” Kamapauaa was a

gigantic hog, who “could appear as a handsome young man, a hog, a fish

or a tree.” “At other times the innate character of the fury showed

itself, and Pele appeared in her usual form as an ugly and hateful old

hag, with tattered and fire-burnt garments, scarcely concealing the

filth and nakedness of her person. Her bloodshot eyes and fiendish

countenance paralyzed the beholder, and her touch turned him to stone.

She was a jealous and vindictive monster, delighting in cruelty, and at

the slightest provocation overwhelming the unoffending victims of her

rage in widespread ruin.”

The superstition regarding the Goddess Pele was thought to have received

a death blow in 1825, when Kapiolani, an Hawaiian princess and a

Christian convert, ascended, with numerous attendants, to the crater of

Kilauea, where she publicly defied the power and wrath of the goddess.

No response came to her defiance, she descended in safety, and faith in

Pele’s power was widely shaken.

Yet as late as 1887 the old superstition revived and claimed an exalted

victim, for in that year the Princess Like Like, the youngest sister of

the king, starved herself to death to appease the anger of the Goddess

Pele, supposed to be manifested in Mauna Loa’s eruption of that year,

and to be quieted only by the sacrifice of a victim of royal blood. Thus

slowly do the old superstitions die away.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Popocatapetl and Other Volcanoes of Mexico and Central America.

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.

CHAPTER XXVII.

The Terrible Eruption of Krakatoa.

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.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Mount Pelee and its Harvest of Death.

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.