OTHER GREAT ERUPTIONS.
“Hast thou observed the ancient tract,
That was trodden by wicked mortals,
Who were arrested on a sudden,
Whose foundation is a molten flood?
Who said to God, Depart from us,
What can Shaddai do to us?
Though he had filled their houses with wealth.
(Far from me be the counsel of the wicked!)
The righteous beheld and rejoiced,
The innocent laughed them to scorn,
Surely their substance was carried away,
And their riches devoured by fire.”
Such is Dr. Henderson’s translation of Job XXII, 15-20. By many the
passage has been supposed to refer to the destruction of the cities of
the plain, and used to support the theory that a volcanic eruption was
the means of their overthrow. If the theory were true, the catastrophe
is the earliest historic eruption. A brief statement of the reasons for
the belief may interest the reader.
The entire Dead Sea valley is depressed far below the level of the sea.
From the Dead Sea to the head of the Red Sea is a well-marked trough,
supposed to indicate that the Jordan once emptied into the Red Sea. The
adjacent Sinaitic peninsula is a volcanic region, which may have been in
eruption when the Israelites passed it. Dr. Robinson reports water marks
left high on the cliffs, far to the south of the Dead Sea. Fragments of
lava have been picked up among the salt-crusts and bituminous deposits
on the shores.
In short, the region is one in which, at some time, volcanic action
occurred. It lies between two great volcanic
[Illustration: DESTRUCTION OF SODOM.]
centers: Sinai, and the volcanic region of Arabia and Syria. The
question really is, whether any disturbance occurred there at so late a
period as the destruction of Sodom.
The idea advanced by several thoughtful men is, that in the bituminous
plain occupied by the cities, fissures opened and flames and cinders
issuing, rained upon the inflammable surface, speedily destroying the
cities, which sunk with the earth till the sea covered them. Such cases,
minus the bitumen, have several times occurred. And, again, the sea
might have existed before, and merely have been extended by the
convulsion. Such is the substance of the theory.
Cases in support of it are not wanting. The city of Euphemia, in
Calabria, was so swallowed up in 1638. Kircher, who was near at the
time, tells how he and his companions, unable to keep their feet, during
the violent earthquake, lay upon the ground till the paroxysms were
somewhat abated. Rising and looking for Euphemia, only a frightful black
cloud was seen. It slowly cleared away revealing a loathsome and putrid
lake. No trace of the city or its inhabitants was ever found.
In the island of Trinidad is a vast lake of pitch, of which the Indian
legend tells the origin. The words are Kingsley’s:
“Once that dark and loathly pitch-lake
Was a garden, bright and fair,
And the Chaymas, from the mainland,
Built their palm ajoupas there.
There they throve, and there they fattened.
Hale and happy, safe and strong,
Passed the livelong days in feasting,
Passed the nights in dance and song.
Till they cruel grew, and wanton,
Till they killed the colibris,
Then outspoke the Great good Spirit,
Who can see through all the trees.”
The spirit proceeded to remind the Chaymas of all the good things he had
provided for them; how he had allowed them unlimited use of all things
which could be of any possible good to them; how he had even been
patient with their thanklessness. Only the colibris or humming-birds,
useless to the Chaymas, he had reserved for himself, that he might have
pleasure in their beauty and happiness. The story continues:
“But the Chaymas’ ears were deafened;
Blind their eyes, and could not see,
How a blissful Indian’s spirit
Lived in every colibri.
Lived, forgetting pain and sorrow,
Ever fair and ever new,
Whirring round the dear old woodland,
Feeding on the honeydew.
Then one evening roared the earthquake,
Monkeys howled, and parrots screamed,
And the Guaraons, at morning
Gathered here, as men who dreamed.
Sunk were gardens, sunk ajoupas,
Hut and hammock, man and hound,
And above the Chayma village,
Boiled with pitch the cursed ground.”
The salient points of the evidence being presented, the reader may draw
his own conclusions. Perhaps the cities were fired in the manner
suggested--perhaps lightning ignited the bitumen. But it is generally
supposed that their site lies beneath the sea.
After the account given of Vesuvius, the reader will no doubt be
surprised to learn that this noted mountain can not rank as more than a
respectable fourth-rate volcano. It will require but a brief comparison
with others to show that such is the case.
By far the largest volcano in Europe, and next to Vesuvius, the most
noted, is Mt. Etna, in the island of Sicily. It was well known to the
ancients, and appears to have been in eruption from the most remote
historic times. Diodorus Siculus records that a violent eruption caused
an adjacent district to be deserted by its inhabitants before the Trojan
war. Thucydides tells of three eruptions between the colonization of
Sicily by the Greeks and the Peloponnesian war--431 B. C.
Notwithstanding the great antiquity of the records of this mountain, but
little detail is known of its earlier eruptions. The first of which any
extended account exists is the great outbreak of 1669. The convulsion
began with a tremendous earthquake. Many villages and towns in the
adjacent districts were leveled to the earth. In the plain of St. Lio, a
fissure six feet wide and twelve miles long and of unknown depth opened
from north to south with a terrific, crashing noise, and extended nearly
to the top of the mountain. Flashes of intense light poured from it.
Five other parallel fissures afterwards opened, one after the other,
emitting smoke, and the most horrid bellowings, which were heard to the
distance of forty miles.
This explains the manner in which dykes or banks of lava are thrown up
amid other rocks. The light emitted by these fissures would indicate
that they were, to a certain height, filled with glowing lava.
The lava, during this eruption, having overwhelmed and destroyed
fourteen towns, some of them containing three or four thousand
inhabitants, at length arrived at the walls of Catania, a populous city,
situated ten miles from the volcano. These walls had been raised sixty
feet high, towards the mountain, in order to protect the city, in case
of an eruption. But the burning flood accumulated against the wall, so
as to fill all the space around and below that part, and finally poured
over it in a fiery cataract, destroying every thing in that vicinity.
From Catania the lava continued its course until it reached the sea, a
distance of fifteen miles from its source, in a current about eighteen
hundred feet broad, and forty feet deep. While moving on, its surface
was, in general, a mass of solid rock, or cooled lava, and it advanced
by the protrusion of the melted matter, through this hardened crust.
As an illustration of the intense heat of volcanic matter, the Canon
Recupero relates that in 1766 he ascended a small hill composed of
ancient volcanic matter, in order to observe the slow and gradual manner
in which a current of liquid fire advanced from Ætna. This current was
two and a half miles broad; and, while he stood observing it, two small
threads of lava, issuing from a crevice, detached themselves from the
main stream, and approached rapidly towards the eminence where he and
his guide were standing. They had only just time to escape, when they
saw the hill on which they stood a few minutes before, and which was
fifty feet high, entirely surrounded, and, in about fifteen minutes,
entirely melted down into the burning mass, so as to be incorporated
with, and move on along with it.
According to Hitchcock, 77,000 persons perished during the eruption of
1769, and eighty-four square miles were covered with lava.
The slowness with which lava cools may be inferred that ten years later,
workmen endeavoring to sink a shaft through the bed were forced to
abandon the work when near the bottom, by reason of the heat.
While this was Ætna’s greatest outbreak, several of terrible
destructiveness have occurred since. In 1693 an eruption was accompanied
by earthquake shocks, which in three days did more damage than the lava.
Catania was almost destroyed; great sea-waves rolled in upon the
[Illustration: DESTRUCTION OF CATANIA.]
wreck; the vessels in the harbor were dashed against each other or upon
the beach: the ringing of the bells and the roar of the mountain and sea
was mingled with the cries of thousands of unfortunates struggling in
the ruins. Not less than 16,000 people perished in Catania alone.
In 1755 occurred an eruption which is memorable for the great flood
which attended it. Immense quantities of snow and ice, accumulated about
the summit, were melted by the intense heat, and the waters rushed down
in a column thirty feet deep and one and three-quarters miles wide, into
the plain below. The lower portion of the valley was filled with the
debris. Those who were not buried in the rubbish were swept out to sea.
The total loss of life is not exactly known, but amounted to many
thousands.
Second in volume to the eruption of 1669, but very slightly destructive,
is the eruption of 1852-53. It began August 20, 1852, and continued nine
months. “The united width of the lava streams was two miles, with a
depth of from eight to sixteen feet, piled up in some places to one
hundred feet. It reached to near Zarafana,--almost six miles, descending
thirty-five hundred feet in sixteen days. The Val del Bove, from the
upper part of which it proceeded, looked like a sea of fire. Explosions
as of artillery were frequently heard, and the scoriæ were sent up to
great heights.” The intense heat set fire to the trees in the vicinity.
In January, 1865, a considerable eruption took place from an immense
fissure on the northeastern slope of the mountain. Seven active craters
developed along the fissure, sending out a lava stream one and one-half
miles wide.
Three other eruptions have taken place from Ætna since 1853; but, save
some damage to property, these have been comparatively unimportant, save
from a geological standpoint. One began in 1874 from a fissure on the
north side, but suddenly ceased. Prof. Silvestri, after examining the
locality, asserted that the next eruption would take place from this
same fissure. Five years later his assertion was verified, large streams
of lava being sent out, with heavy showers of ashes and sand. Large
areas of forest were destroyed, and the stream drew alarmingly near some
populous villages, but stopped not far from a small river. The area of
the lava bed was about seven hundred and fifty acres, the volume being
about twenty-three and a half million tons.
Ætna’s last eruption was in May, 1886; a few houses were destroyed, but
no lives were lost. Ætna and the adjacent Lipari Islands exhibited
unusual activity during the entire seventeenth century, having a total
of fourteen eruptions; as many as are recorded in all their previous
history. The next century witnessed fifteen outbursts from Ætna, and
during the present one there have been eleven.
It will be noticed that both Vesuvius and Ætna seem to have reached
their maximum activity at the close of the last century. The same is
true of the volcanoes of Iceland. This island, which is as large as
Ireland, is built up entirely of volcanic matter. It doubtless began
with a single, great submarine volcano; but to-day it has at least
thirteen active vents. It presents us with the most tremendous outpour
of matter in the history of the world. For seven hundred years there has
not been an interval of forty, and seldom of more than twenty, without
eruptions and earthquakes in some portion of the island. Single
eruptions of Mt. Hecla have lasted six years. Often during violent
earthquakes, old mountains have disappeared; new ones have been raised
up; rivers turned from their courses, or dried up altogether. The old
Norseman who discovered the island might much more appropriately have
named it Fireland. Doubtless had his ancestors known the island they
would have chosen it as the home of the terrible fire giants.
But Iceland is the realm of both frost and fire; and there is no more
romantic or painful chapter in history than the story of this hardy and
spirited race to maintain their foothold in the face of such terrible
odds. Those who hold that a nation’s progress and stamina are in
proportion to its material advantages, would have to make an exception
in favor of blood. The plucky Norsemen have held their own in this
region for nine centuries; nor is there any deterioration. No nation can
to-day show a better intellectual or moral condition than these poor but
hardy islanders. Yet there is not a region of the world that has been
more frequently or terribly scourged than this semibarren island.
The best known volcano in Iceland is Mt. Hecla, which ranks with Ætna
and Vesuvius in fame. It is not the highest nor most remarkable of
Icelandic volcanoes; but the frequency of its eruptions, together with
the fact that it may be easily reached, have brought it to the front. It
is five thousand feet high, and lies but thirty-five miles from the sea.
The larger portion of the material thrown out by it consists of slag,
cinders, pumice, and ashes, the slope of its cone being about 35
degrees. It has nothing answering to the customary crater; the eruptions
break from fissures in its sides; and, in consequence, it may emit
several streams or showers at once.
Hecla has been in eruption about thirty times since its character was
first known, and has at times made fearful havoc. Its last great
outbreak was in 1878.
Hecla has adjutants in this volcanic field that are more savage and
relentless than the generalissimo. One of the most destructive outbursts
of recent times occurred in the Vatna district in 1875. In this region,
about sixty
[Illustration: MT. HECLA.]
miles by one hundred and fifteen, is a very nest of volcanoes. The
convulsion lasted several months, the entire region being active; and
great numbers of people perished. So great was the destruction of
property, crops, and flocks that the people, reduced to starvation, were
compelled to appeal to Britain and Denmark for assistance. This has
happened more than once in Iceland’s history.
But far up in the impenetrable deserts of the interior is a mountain
which has seldom shown any activity; but when in full blast, its power
is unsurpassed by any volcano on the globe. This is the fearful Skaptar
Jokul, or Skaptar mountain. A single instance of its power will suffice.
One of the most stupendous outbreaks recorded in history is that of
Skaptar Jokul in 1783. In the quantity of lava ejected, it is hardly
surpassed by any single eruption; and few disturbances of the sort have
surpassed it in fatality. Immense volumes of ashes were hurled into the
air, spreading over the whole island in dense clouds. Streams were
poisoned by the minerals and alkalies thrown out. Immense numbers of
sheep and cattle perished. Thousands of acres of pasture lands were
ruined. Where the grass was not killed, it often was rendered poisonous,
like the water, by the mineral dust falling upon it. The hills were
dotted with the decaying carcasses. The air was filled with horrible
stench. The ashes fell in such volumes into the ocean that the fish
deserted the coast. The flying clouds of dust spread to Europe. The
appalling horror of the scene can hardly be imagined. Death stalked
abroad in his most repulsive form.
“The river Skapta, a considerable stream, was for a time completely
dried by a torrent of liquid fire. This river was about two hundred feet
broad, and its banks from four to six hundred above the level of the
water. This defile was entirely filled for a considerable distance by
the lava, which crossed the river by the dam thus formed, and overflowed
the country beyond, where it filled a lake of considerable extent, and
great depth.
“This eruption commenced on the 11th of June. On the 18th of the same
month, a still greater quantity of lava rushed from the mouth of the
volcano, and flowed with amazing rapidity, sometimes over the first
stream, but generally in a new course. The melted matter having crossed
some of the tributary streams of the Skapta, completely dammed up their
waters and caused great destruction of property and lives by their
overflow. The lava, after flowing for several days, was precipitated
down a tremendous cataract, called Stapafoss, where it filled a profound
abyss, which that great water-fall had been excavating for ages, and
thence the fiery flood continued its course.
“On the 3rd of August, a new eruption poured forth fresh floods of lava,
which, taking a different direction from the others, filled the bed of
another river, by which a large lake was formed, and much property and
many lives destroyed.
“The effect of this dreadful calamity may in some measure be imagined
when it is known that, although Iceland did not at that time contain
more than fifty thousand inhabitants, there perished nine thousand human
beings by this single eruption, making nearly one in five of the whole
population. Part of them were destroyed by the burning lava itself; some
by drowning, other by noxious vapors which the lava emitted, and others
in consequence of the famine, caused by the showers of ashes, which
covered a great proportion of the island and destroyed most of the
vegetation. The fish, also, on which the inhabitants depended, in a
great measure, for food, entirely deserted the coast.”
The quantity of lava which Skaptar Jokul emitted during this eruption
was almost beyond belief. The two principal branches were respectively
forty and fifty miles long. The branch which crossed the Skapta was from
twelve to fifteen miles wide; the width of the other was seven miles.
The usual depth was one hundred feet; but two and three hundred were
frequent; and where the streams dashed across gorges or narrow valleys
the depth was six or seven hundred. It would be quite safe to estimate
the average depth at one hundred and fifty feet. These two principal
streams were, then, sufficient to cover one thousand square miles to a
depth of one hundred and fifty feet. Contrast with this the twenty
million cubic meters estimated to have been poured forth in one of the
great Vesuvian eruptions. This last would cover one square mile to a
depth of twenty-five feet. Vesuvius sinks to an insignificance that is
pitiable; its great outbreak produced but one-six thousandths as much as
the single eruption of Skaptar Jokul! Such calculations may give us a
comparative estimate of the two; but no figures can give us any
conception of the force required to elevate such a stream of melted rock
through the crust of the earth. And if we compare the resultant
fatality, it is clear that this great convulsion, in a very sparsely
settled island, destroyed more lives than all the outbursts of Vesuvius
in its densely populated neighborhood.
This eruption of Skaptar was preceded by several outbreaks in the sea;
some of them close to the shore; some many miles from land. Such
phenomena have become tolerably familiar. Livy informs us that a
disturbance of this kind near Sicily, occurring with similar phenomena
at the time of Hannibal’s death, so terrified the Romans as to induce
them to proclaim a day of supplication to the gods to avert their
displeasure. Santorin in the Grecian Archipelago is a similar
production. And in 1831 an island was thrown up to the southwest of
Sicily, where previous soundings had shown a depth of six hundred feet.
It was preceded by a violent spouting of steam and water. The sea around
was filled with floating pumice and dead fish. The crater reached a
height of two hundred feet, being three miles in circumference. Its
circular basin was full of boiling, dingy, red water. It continued
active three weeks, and then slowly sank, leaving a dangerous reef
eleven feet below the surface; while a single black volcanic rock
projected from the sea near the center of the reef. It is known as
Graham’s Island. Thus we see that volcanic action is not confined to the
land, and that the areas affected are continually shifting.
Jorullo, in Mexico, affords an example of the way in which new volcanoes
are constantly being formed. In the parallel of the City of Mexico exist
five volcanoes, extending in a line across the country as if thrown up
along some immense fissure or subterranean fault, extending from sea to
sea. Of these Popocatepetl is perhaps the largest, and Jorullo the most
recent.
There formerly existed in Mexico an extensive plain of remarkable
fertility, covered with fields of cane, cotton and indigo, and watered
by irrigation from the reservoirs in the basaltic mountains that bounded
it. This region, the _Malpays_, had no volcano within eighty miles, and
lay twenty-six hundred feet above the sea. In June, 1759, alarming
rumblings were heard in the earth, which were succeeded by severe
earthquakes. These phenomena lasted several weeks, to the great
consternation of the inhabitants. In September it seemed that quiet was
restored, when suddenly, on the night of the 28th, a fearful
subterranean noise was again heard; fissures opened, and hot stones were
thrown out. Part of the plain rose up like
[Illustration: JORULLO.]
an immense bubble to the height of sixteen hundred feet. Imagine the
astonishment of the natives when morning showed them a mountain where
the night before was a level plain! It almost seemed as though some
magic had transported them to another land. Smoke and ashes spouted
forth; five smaller cones were thrown up, the least of which was three
hundred feet in height. The plain was dotted with thousands of small
conical mounds, called by the natives _hornitos_, or ovens. Each emitted
vapor for a time; but at length all the upheavals, save Jorullo, ceased
action, though the plain remained so hot as to be uninhabitable for many
years. Jorullo continued to throw out lava several months, and has been
in more moderate action ever since.
In some respects the terrible outbreak of Skaptar Jokul has been several
times exceeded. While almost alone in the immense quantity of lava
thrown out, we have seen that great streams of lava are not accompanied
by the most violent explosions. In the number of lives destroyed,
Skaptar has also been exceeded; but if Iceland had been as densely
populated as Ireland, which it equals in area, the convulsion might have
destroyed half a million or more.
One of the best examples of the force of steam on a smaller scale is
seen in the eruptions of volcanoes, is to be found in the geysers of
Iceland. These lie in a strip of ground one hundred yards wide and about
a quarter of a mile in length. The ground is dotted with numerous dark
apertures and conical mounds, from which clouds of steam ascend
continually. Of these the Little Geyser is no longer active, being
merely a pool of still, hot water. The Great Geyser is periodically
active, and the Strokr, or Churn, may be excited at any time by throwing
a quantity of earth into it. As a matter of course, these boiling
springs never do any damage, the quantity of water thrown out being of
no consequence. The water holds in solution a vast quantity of silicious
matter, which is deposited around the mouth of the geyser, forming
sometimes a saucer-shaped basin, sometimes a nippleshaped mound. From
the rate at which the deposits are made, it is estimated that the Great
Geyser is about ten hundred and sixty years old.
One of the most tremendous outbursts of which we have any authentic
account occurred in the island of Sumbawa. It is one of the Molucca
islands; and the mountain from which the outbreak occurred is called
Tomboro.
[Illustration: GEYSER.]
“This eruption commenced on the 5th of April, 1815, but was most
terrific on the 11th and 12th of that month; nor did it cease entirely
until some time in the following July. The explosion so much resembled
the firing of heavy cannon at a distance that the people of many
vessels at sea supposed there was a great naval engagement within
hearing, but could not imagine what nations were engaged.
“The commanders of some ships, and several English forts, gave orders to
prepare for battle, though they were several hundred miles distant from
the mountain. At Sumatra these tremendous explosions were distinctly
heard, though not nearer than nine hundred and seventy miles from
Tomboro. They were also heard at Ternate, in the opposite direction from
Sumatra, at the distance of seven hundred and twenty miles from the
mountain.
“So immense in quantity was the fall of ashes, that at Bima, forty miles
from the mountain, the roof of the English resident’s house was crushed
by the weight, and many other houses in the same town were rendered
uninhabitable from the same cause. At Java, three hundred miles distant,
the air was so full of ashes that from this cause, at mid-day, it is
said, the darkness was so profound that nothing like it had ever before
been experienced during the most stormy night.
“Along the coast of Sumbawa the sea was covered with floating lava,
intermixed with trees and timber, so that it was difficult for vessels
to sail through the mass. Some captains, though at a long distance at
sea, mistook this mass for land, and sent out their boats in order to
ascertain the safety of their situations. The sea, on this and the
neighboring coast, rose suddenly to the height of twelve feet, in the
form of immense waves, and, as they retired, swept away trees, timber,
and houses with their inhabitants. All the vessels lying near the shore
were torn from their anchoring and cast upon the land. Violent
whirlwinds carried into the air, men, horses, cattle, trees, and
whatever else was in the vicinity of the mountain. Large trees were
torn up by the roots and carried into the sea. But the most calamitous
part of the account still remains; for such were the tremendous effects
of the burning lava--the overflowing of the sea, the fall of houses, and
the violence of the whirlwind, that, out of twelve thousand inhabitants
on this island, only twenty-six individuals escaped with their lives,
all the rest being destroyed in one way or another.
“The whole island was completely covered with ashes, or other volcanic
matter. In some places the bottom of the sea was so elevated as to make
shoals where there was deep water before; and in others, the land sunk
down and was overflown by the sea. Adding those who were killed on other
islands, the total death roll was over twenty thousand.”
This entire region is one of wonderful activity. Mount Api, in the
island of Banda, in the same group, has had twelve violent eruptions in
two hundred and thirty-four years; and, indeed, it is hardly ever really
quiet. The volcano of Abo, in the island of Sanguir, broke out in 1711,
burying a large number of villages in cinders, covering extensive areas
of forest and plain, and destroying many thousands of people. This same
volcano burst forth suddenly in March, 1856, vomiting torrents of mud,
streams of lava, and clouds of ashes and scoria, doing almost as much
mischief as on the former occasion. In the island of Timor, a gigantic
volcano, long known as the Peak, began a violent eruption in 1638. When
the convulsion was over the mountain had disappeared; partly blown away,
partly sunken, and the site is to this day covered by a great lake.
But the center of this great volcanic region lies in the island of Java,
which possesses about fifty craters, half of them still active. The heat
and vapors poured out, combined with the power of the sun, combine to
make this one of the most noted tempest regions in the world. Nowhere
else are such terrific thunder-storms so common; and more than twenty
water spouts are sometimes seen at one time.
One of the most remarkable eruptions of modern times is that of
Papandayang, in this island, which occurred in 1772. The mountain burst
forth suddenly, with a tremendous roaring. Cinders and ashes were almost
insignificant. Immense boulders were hurled about the neighboring
regions. The mountain was veiled in a cloud of glowing vapor. A tract of
land seventeen miles long and seven miles wide, with over forty
villages, was swallowed up. Several thousand people perished. When the
cloud finally vanished it was found that four thousand feet of the upper
portion of the mountain had been blown away. The broad, ragged mass
remaining was of little more than one-half the original height. Two
other mountains in the island were in action at the same time; while
several intervening active cones remained quiet. Mt. Guntur, in the same
island, has had a number of violent eruptions. The last, occurring in
1800, sent forth in addition to lava streams, a torrent of white, acid,
sulphurous mud, which swept a populous and fertile valley, engulfing
hundreds of men and animals in its course. We shall notice by and by a
still more remarkable Javanese convulsion.
Time would fail were details to be given of the numerous volcanoes of
Sumatra and Celebes and the adjacent islands, or of the eruptions and
boiling springs of New Zealand, or the towering cones of New Guinea, or
of the peaks of the Canary, Cape Verde and Azores. Let us notice briefly
a few of the more noted volcanoes of America.
Our own land is free, for the most part, from such disturbances; the
only recorded outbreaks being those of Rainier and St. Helens, in 1842.
But in prehistoric times it had numerous volcanic areas. The Raton peaks
in New Mexico once sent out lava streams that spread over the country
between the Upper Arkansas and Canadian rivers; and St. Helens, Hood,
Edgecombe, Baker, Rainier, Fair Weather and Shasta, are cones well known
to the western tourist. These, except Hood and Shasta, are still active.
But better known examples of great internal heat are found in the hot
springs of different portions of the country; though these merely show
the existence of subterranean heat, and afford no conception of its
power or violence. Quite as famous is the famous geyser basin of the
Yellowstone. Here is a region surpassing greatly the geyser district of
Iceland, both in area, and in the number and power of the geysers. The
whole region is pierced with fumaroles, around which sulphur and other
minerals crystalize in beautiful forms; and steam jets break through the
soil in countless places. Certain of the geysers are exceedingly
periodic; and others, like the Strokr of Iceland, may be incited to
action at almost any time by casting in earth or stones. The more
powerful of these “toy volcanoes” send water to a height of four hundred
feet.
In the southern portion of the continent and in South America we find a
region of remarkable activity. Central America has had several violent
convulsions at a comparatively recent period. The volcano of Las
Virgines, in Lower California, had a great eruption in 1746; but the
country being sparsely peopled, little harm was done, and the fact of
the eruption was made known by the light and clouds seen from vessels at
sea, and the ashes and cinders that fell in the adjacent regions of
Mexico.
If eruptions be measured by the violence of explosions,
[Illustration: THE YELLOWSTONE PARK.]
then the famous outburst of Cosequina must rank among the greatest, if
not itself the greatest, that is known to history. The narrative of its
eruption, as related by an eye-witness, seems almost beyond belief; but
the facts are too well authenticated. The extent of the destruction of
life, though certainly reaching many hundreds, was never definitely
known. The personal narration serves to show the fearful impressions
made upon those who experience such awful convulsions:
“The wonder to me is how any man could live through such a burst as
Cosequina’s in San Salvador. ’Twas the 21st of January, 1835--as fine a
morning as ever was seen on earth. The Bay of Fonseca was smooth as
silk; never a cloud in the sky. The lazy folks of Playa Grande and
Nagascolo were lying in the hammocks beside the doors, smoking and
dozing, and not a soul had a notion of ill from any side on that sunny
morning, which was to be the last for half of them. They lay in hammocks
and smoked and dozed like worthless cusses, as they are; and most of
’em, no doubt, had full in sight the big mountain on t’other side the
gulf. They’d nigh forgot to call it a volcano. Not for a thousand years,
as the Indians told, had smoke or mischief come from that hill; they’d
ha’ laughed silly any one as had talked danger from Cosequina.
“At ten o’clock that morning that mountain burst out again, and in a
fury such as never yet was known in the upper world--no, nor ever will
be again, as _I_ believe, till the last day. Suddenly it burst out--not
muttering beforehand, nor smoking--but crash! all on the moment, as if
to remind men what evil power was yet left in nature to destroy them. At
ten o’clock that day the voice of the mountain was heard after one
thousand years’ silence--in such a thunderous roar was it heard that
beast and bird fell dead with the sound alone, and great cliffs pitched
headlong into the sea! There’s thousands still alive to witness. For a
while the streets of Playa Grande and Nagascolo must have seemed like
streets of the dead; for every soul was stunned. Folks were lying in
their hammocks or on the floor, motionless and senseless as corpses. The
sky was still bright and blue, but on the mountain side was a cloud like
ink, which rolled down like a cap to the foot. Naught afterwards seemed
so horrible as the sudden heaping of that jet black mound in the place
of the sunny, green hill.
“But it didn’t long offend any man’s sight--over heaven and sea the
cloud opened and spread. Lightning and thunders burst from the heart of
the ocean, and sheets of flame glared luridly the sides of Cosequina.
The darkness spread so quick, that at Leon, two hundred miles away, they
were lighting the church candles within an hour after the outbreak. But
candles, nor torches, nor houses aflame couldn’t disperse that darkness.
For three days no soul in Leon saw another’s face, nor ventured out but
to the howling churches, to grovel there. Night dragged after night, but
no day shone over the land. A lighted torch could not be seen at arm’s
length! The ashes fell softly and silently, till buildings crushed down
headlong with the weight. Tigers were in the churches, and panthers
entered house doors in search of companionship and protection. Hundreds
committed suicide in their madness, and hundreds more became simple for
life. Men’s faces were blistered by the hot winds; the paint fell from
the statues; the crash of falling, and the faint light of burning houses
doubled the horror of darkness. Such a time as that was never seen on
earth since the plague of Egypt, I guess!
“But of course the most awful work was around the Gulf of Fonseca. The
water rose in waves twenty feet high, dashed over the Estero, and swept
off the towns of Playa Grande and Nagascolo, slick as a prairie fire.
Scarce a soul escaped for twenty miles about. The cattle crushed over
the barrancas in search of water, and were destroyed in herds of
thousands at a time; for none could see, nor hear, nor breathe. Rivers
were dried by the heat, and choked with ashes; forests burned up; the
very grass withered throughout the whole length and breadth of
Nicaragua, and hasn’t sprung since. _Sacate_ (‘a broad flag-like blade’)
alone escaped, and the country which was once the grazing land of
Central America was ruined till eternity, for that business.
“During this time of death, as they still call it, at Balize, one
thousand miles away, the commandant called out the garrison, and kept
them under arms twenty-four hours, thinking all the navies in the
universe were at action in the offing. There ’twas too dark to see fifty
yards oceanwards. The roar of Cosequina was heard miles around,
spreading fear and perplexity. Four thousand miles in radius the ashes
fell; they lay on the roofs at San Francisco, California.
“Well, the mountain’s behaved like a decent sort of powder-cask ever
since. The fuse has always been burning and spitting; but you see
there’s a big consumption of power in such a burst, and I guess the old
machine wants to recuperate awhile.”
Those familiar with the terrific effects produced on the gunners by the
discharge of heavy artillery, can understand that the atmospheric
concussion produced by tremendous volcanic explosions might kill large
numbers of birds and small animals in the vicinity.
As to the distance to which ashes may be carried, a late eruption in
Iceland was announced by a Professor in Germany long before any vessel
brought the news. The atmosphere was unusually full of dust which, on
examining with a microscope, he pronounced to be pulverized Iceland
lava. The detonations of Cosequina were heard over the peninsula of
Yucatan, along the shores of Jamaica, eight hundred miles distant, and
as far as Bogota in South America--nearly ten thousand feet above the
sea. Ashes fell on vessels twelve hundred miles westward at sea.
Fortunately the eruption was soon over.
Another unusual outbreak occurred in Central America from the volcano of
Leon in 1867, beginning November 27. First there were a number of
violent explosions, which shook the earth for a great distance. Immense
quantities of black sand were then thrown out, and a column of vapor and
fire, filled with meteor-like specks, was hurled to a height of three
thousand feet. Closer observation showed the “specks” to be rocks four
or five feet in diameter, and weighing thousands of pounds. The showers
of sand lasted three days, covering the earth for fifty miles around.
The forest for leagues was scarred by the swift-falling showers of sand
and stones; and for half a mile around the cone the trees were leveled
to the ground.
Central America contains twenty-nine volcanoes, eighteen of which are
active. Twenty cones are in sight from the town of Leon. One cone,
Izalco, suddenly manifested signs of activity, but no eruption took
place. But the sudden heating rapidly melted the snow on the mountain,
and the torrents of water inundated the town of Guatemala, destroying
thousands of dollars worth of property, besides many lives. The mountain
has since been known as “Agua,” or water.
South America is noted for the frequency and extreme violence of its
earthquakes; of which more hereafter. Though possessing a greater number
of very lofty volcanic cones than any other region, the direct effect
of its eruptions have not been so disastrous as the results of many
eruptions elsewhere. There is but one very notable exception; the
earthquake that destroyed Riobamba in 1794 was followed at once by an
outpour of mud from Tunguragua, which overwhelmed forty thousand people,
still dazed by the shock, or struggling in the ruins of their villages.
One notable incident is the continual subterranean roaring heard for a
considerable period over twenty-three hundred square miles of Northern
Venezuela, a number of years ago, during a violent outpour of lava from
the volcano of St. Vincent, an island six hundred and twenty-three miles
to the northeast. No motion of the earth was perceptible. It has been
supposed that the noise was merely the roar of St. Vincent conveyed
through the crust of the earth; but this would raise the question as to
why the same noise was not audible at points nearer to St. Vincent?
Another suggestion is that the source from which the lava of St. Vincent
was derived lay beneath Northern Venezuela; and a fact brought in
support of this is, that the great earthquake of Caracas was immediately
followed by action at St. Vincent. Similarly, the great eruption of
Cotopaxi, in 1744, was attended by subterranean rumbling at Honda, four
hundred and thirty-six miles away, and eighteen thousand and one hundred
feet lower. Between are the colossal mountains of Pasto, Pichincha and
Popayan, with countless valleys and ravines.
The cone of Cotopaxi is the smoothest and most symmetrical in the world;
perhaps because its eruptions are almost entirely of ashes or
fragmentary lava. As no villages lie in its immediate neighborhood, the
clouds of ashes have not done so much damage as might be expected.
The first sign of an eruption is the melting of the snow upon the cone.
Torrents of water sweep down the mountain. Such an outbreak occurring in
1741, after two centuries repose, the amount of snow accumulated may be
imagined. The rush of the water tore away blocks of lava, ice and
scoria; the plain below was covered with dashing waves. Twelve miles
from the mountain the waters still had a velocity of fifty-six feet per
second, or about two-thirds of a mile a minute. Escape from such a
current would be impossible. Six hundred houses were swept away and one
thousand people destroyed. The sides of the cone glowed in the night
with a reddish light. Cotopaxi also had a great eruption in 1533, which
hurled lava blocks containing one hundred and thirty cubic yards to a
distance of nine miles. Such masses would weigh more than two hundred
and eighty tons. Such feats will serve to give clearer ideas of the
immense power of volcanic action.
Perhaps a statement of the force required to raise a column of lava
would interest the reader. Lava being about twenty-eight times as heavy
as water, a column of it eleven and three-sevenths feet high, and one
inch square, would weigh fifteen pounds. Then to raise lava to the tops
of various volcanic cones would require pressure or initial velocity as
follows:
Pressure per Initial velocity
Height. square inch. per second.
Stromboli 2,168 feet. 2,640 pounds. 371 feet.
Vesuvius 3,874 “ 4,710 “ 496 “
Hecla 5,106 “ 6,195 “ 570 “
Ætna 10,892 “ 13,230 “ 832 “
Teneriffe 12,464 “ 15,135 “ 890 “
Mauna Kea 14,700 “ 17,865 “ 966 “
Popocatepetl 17,712 “ 21,525 “ 1,062 “
St. Elias 18,079 “ 21,975 “ 1,072 “
Cotopaxi 18,869 “ 22,380 “ 1,104 “
Sahama 22,965 “ 27,756 “ 1,212 “
When we remember that our powerful steam engines are operated by
pressures varying from one hundred and twenty to two hundred pounds per
square inch, it is evident we can have no adequate conception of the
magnitude of a force of twenty-seven thousand pounds to the square inch.
And yet such a power must be but a tithe of the force exerted; for it
represents only the force necessary to throw the lava from the surface
to the tops of the mountains; whereas the lava reservoirs are far
beneath the surface. Also, the above calculation considers only the mere
weight of the lava; it allows nothing for the resistance of cohesion,
friction, or a heavy crust to be often burst through. When we consider
all these, each of which must far surpass the weight of the single
column of lava, it is evident that the pressure that can hurl lava
blocks of two hundred and eighty tons nine miles from a mountain must
reach a million pounds per square inch. These are meaningless figures.
Human thought cannot grasp so stupendous a power.
Perhaps the best known of the great volcanoes are those of the Sandwich
Islands. We find there the largest extinct crater in the world. The
great dead crater of Haleakala, in East Maui, is thirty miles in
circumference. The crater of Kilauea, on the flank of Mauna Loa, is
about seven miles in circumference. Several great eruptions have
occurred in these islands during the past fifty years; and in one of
these convulsions the volume of lava poured out was at least equal to
the great outburst of Skaptar Jokul in Iceland. And when we consider the
frequent recurrence of the Hawaiian eruptions, it at once appears that
in this region lies the greatest lava producer on the globe.
But in regard to destruction of life or property, there has so far been
no more harmless region in the world. There are two reasons: The lava
poured out is very liquid, and cools slowly; hence a cone formed from it
has a very gradual slope. The actual grade of Mauna Loa is but five or
six degrees. So a lava stream descends it very slowly; and the light on
the mountain warns the people of the outbreak. The shore region is the
only one inhabited, the interior being covered with dense forests. So
the lava may burn a path directly through to the sea, and yet do no
great damage to the interests of the people. The greatest damage done to
the island has not been from an outpour of lava, but from earthquakes
and sea-waves. The great eruption of 1868 was accompanied by continual
shocks--two thousand being felt in a fortnight, and numerous tidal waves
being produced; yet the total fatality was but one hundred, and nearly
all of these were old or weak persons who were unable to swim well
enough to escape from waves that overtook them. A few were overwhelmed
by a torrent of soft, red clay that broke from a fissure in the
mountain. Cliffs and crags were thrown down by the earthquakes, and the
top of one hill was thrown one thousand feet. The lava stream reached
the sea at Nanawale, fifty miles from its source, and pushed
three-fourths of a mile into the sea.
Again, in an eruption in 1880, two lava streams poured out toward the
town of Hilo; and though the great crater continued in full blast, it
was nine months before the people could be sure whether the streams
would destroy the town or not. At length the lava was within five
minutes walk of the town. Many collected their chattels and left. Then
the action on the mountain suddenly subsided; and in a few days the
“great red dragon” lay stiff and cold, almost at the people’s doors.
Since the natives build their houses almost invariably of one story and
of the lightest materials, earthquakes can do comparatively little
damage to most property. Hence, with all the activity of the great
volcanoes, the inhabitants are far more secure than those of many other
regions apparently not so dangerous. Persons may readily visit the great
crater in eruption, though at full blast; and excursion parties are
organized to visit this “Niagara of fire” on every occasion of unwonted
activity. Nowhere else in the world can volcanic action on the grandest
scale be so carefully observed.
The details given hitherto will serve to illustrate the terrible havoc
wrought by subterranean forces. So far only outpouring of volcanic
matter has been especially noticed. But ere examining the terribly
destructive force of earthquakes alone, it is meet that the story of the
tremendous eruptions of the century be closed with the story of the
greatest of the age; and indeed, when all details are considered, it may
rank as the most tremendous convulsion of all history. In certain
details, Skaptar may have exceeded it: in destruction of life. Ætna
surpassed it in 1669; but as a whole, it is simply without a parallel.
The reader will rightly judge that such a convulsion could hardly occur
elsewhere than in the Malayan archipelago. Already the terrible outburst
in Sumbawa has been noted; also several others in Java.
Java and Sumatra formerly formed a single island, but were separated by
a terrific earthquake in 1115. Shocks are felt in one of the two islands
nearly every month. The list of calamities occurring there during the
past hundred years is appalling. Besides the convulsions before noted,
an eruption of Galung-gung, in 1822, overwhelmed one hundred and
fourteen villages and destroyed four thousand people. In 1843 Mt. Guntur
cast forth 30,000,000 tons of ashes, doing immense injury to life and
property. In 1867 there was a tremendous earthquake which killed many
thousands in the interior of the island, and dried up or greatly
obstructed the water courses. Immediately afterward the volcano of
Gunung-Salak ejected such a quantity of cinders and lava that the work
of obliterating or obstructing the streams was complete. The cess-pools
and marshes bred pestilence and epidemics, which have carried off from
Batavia alone nearly a million of inhabitants in the past twenty-two
years. In 1872 the volcano of Mirapi burst out and destroyed several
thousand people in the province of Kadu. Sixteen severe earthquakes were
felt in 1878, and another one in 1879.
At length, in 1883, Krakatoa, a volcano on a small island in the Straits
of Sunda, in the very center of the greatest subterranean furnace on the
globe, began to manifest some uneasiness. As in the case of Cosequina,
people had almost forgotten to call it a volcano. And when the mountain
muttered and fired a little in February, they regarded it with some
curiosity, and then, when it quieted down, thought no more about it.
On the 25th of August the people of Batavia heard peculiar subterranean
mutterings, as they thought, but the roar increased till it might have
been compared to a battery of fortress artillery. An avalanche of stones
and ashes began to fall, and continued all night. Krakatoa had begun.
By morning it was impossible for Batavians to reach the Straits of
Sunda. The bridges were down and the roads impassable. The waters of the
straits were in fearful turmoil. Explosions beneath the sea followed
each other in rapid succession. The waters were sixty degrees hotter
than usually. The rebounding waves were dashing upon Madura, five
hundred miles away, mountains high.
[Illustration: CATTLE IN VOLCANIC MUD.]
The dance of death had hardly begun. Louder and louder roared Krakatoa;
ere noon, Maha-Meru, the greatest of Javanese volcanoes, had joined in.
Then Gunung-guntur opened; others rapidly followed, till fifteen
volcanoes of Java were in eruption; most of them in full blast. The
awful scene was beyond description. Krakatoa could still be heard
thundering above all the rest.
Before nightfall Gunung-guntur, the greatest active crater in the world,
four miles in diameter, was spouting enormous streams of lava and
sulphurous mud. Tremendous explosions followed with showers of cinders
and stones, as though the old giant were endeavoring to out-do the
leader of the dance. Terrible was the slaughter by the flying fragments.
The sea was more violently agitated. Dense clouds of hot, sulphurous
vapors, charged with electricity, hung over the waters, and added
whirlwinds and thunderstorms to the scene. Fifteen large waterspouts
could be seen at one time.
On the shore, men, women and children ran wildly about. There was no
safety upon sea or land. Houses were crumbling, the atmosphere
darkening, the storm increasing. Hundreds of people were buried beneath
ruined houses. Hundreds more were struck down in their flight. Immense
crevices opened and swallowed; huge waves rushed inland and devoured. It
seemed as though Java were to buried, with a rain of fire, in the
unfathomable depths of the sea.
Towards midnight, it seemed as though the Prince of Darkness might be
present in person to direct the work of destruction. “A luminous cloud
far more colossal than that which had appeared above Gunung-guntur,
gathered above the chain of the Kandangs, which run along the southeast
coast of Java. This cloud increased in size each minute, until at last
it came to form a sort of a gray and blood-red color, which hung over
the earth for a considerable distance.
“In proportion as this cloud grew the eruption gained fresh force, and
the floods of lava poured down the mountain sides without ceasing, and
spread into the valleys, where they swept all before them. On Monday
morning about two o’clock, the heavy cloud suddenly broke up, and
finally disappeared. When the sun rose, it was found that a tract of
country extending from Point Capucine to the south as far as Negery
Passoerang, to the north and west, and covering an area of about fifty
square miles, had entirely disappeared.
“There stood the previous day the villages of Negery, and Negery
Babawang. Not one of the inhabitants had escaped. They and their
villages had been swallowed up by the sea. The population was not so
dense in this part of the island as in others, but for all this the
total number of victims fell little short of fifteen thousand.
“The chain of the Kandangs, which runs along the coast of Java in a
semi-circle for sixty-five miles, had also disappeared.
“The waters of Welcome Bay, in the Strait of Sunda, those of Pepper Bay
to the east, and those of the Indian Ocean to the south, had burst in
upon the country, where they formed a raging torrent.”
All the furies of the deeps of earth and sea seemed freed to work their
will and wreak their wrath. The great Papandayang now joined in the
chaos. The cannon-like reports could be heard fifty miles away.
Then Sumatra was infected with the wild fury. From one of her volcanoes
three columns of lava shot up from three different places, and three
leaping red streams of lava dashed forth for the plains below. The
mountain hurled after them showers of stones. Volumes of black dust
flew after, making thick, stifling darkness which could be felt. Banks
of ashes lay upon the roofs of houses, or muffled the city streets. A
tornado hurried by, bearing stones, dust, roofs, trees, houses, and men.
In Java the fierce Papandayang burst open. From the seven great fissures
the lava in its basin plunged out and reached for miles from the
mountain’s base. On the site of the island of Merak, which was swallowed
up by the sea, the next day fourteen volcanic mountains sprang up,
forming a chain from St. Nicholas Point, Java, to Hoga Point, in
Sumatra.
In Batavia and Anjer were three thousand five hundred European
residents; eight hundred of these never saw the light again. An
overwhelming avalanche of rock, mud, and lava, poured upon their quarter
in Anjer; then the sea leaped upon those struggling in the ruins and
swept away all. Not so much as a trace of them was left. Two thousand
inhabitants perished, besides a large number of fugitives from other
quarters. Bantam was submerged, and one thousand five hundred people
drowned. Waves dashed completely over the island of Serang, and not a
single inhabitant escaped. The storms of rock and lava numbered their
victims at Cheribon, and at several noted pleasure resorts.
The great temple of Boro-Buddor was ruined, its dome being beaten in by
the showers of rock. This is a most deplorable architectural loss. It
was the largest Buddhist Temple in the east, and had no equal in the
world. Erected eleven hundred years ago, it stood on an eminence in a
circular valley. It had a great central dome one hundred and forty-five
feet high, surrounded by seventy smaller domes. On the platforms beneath
were four hundred and fifty chapels, cut in openwork out of granite, and
each having a statue of Buddha. The walls of the temple contained a
complete picture-history of Buddha, there being four thousand
beautifully chased bas-reliefs. Not a stone was left uncarved. The great
chapel under the central dome was reached by a series of four grand
staircases of five hundred feet each. No other structure is comparable
to it. A few may be even more splendid; but it was decidedly _sui
generis_.
The list of calamities grew rapidly. The town of Tamarang was devoured
by the lava. Red-hot stones fired many houses. Eighteen hundred people
perished. The island of Onius was terribly shaken and then plunged into
the sea. The island of Midah was swallowed up. No one escaped. The
lighthouses on Sunda Strait were wrecked. The town of Tjeringen was
destroyed with ten thousand people. Nine hundred people perished at
Waronge. Three hundred corpses were dug from the ruins of Talatoa. The
river Jacatana was blocked with lava and ashes, and leaving its bed
poured through Batavia.
The island of Merak, a fortified place three miles from Krakatoa, was a
valuable Government stone quarry, six or seven years in use. Thousands
of native workmen were assembled there, with engineers and overseers.
Their huts were on hills one hundred and fifty feet above the sea. The
end of the season was at hand. The 1st of September would see them
returning to their Java homes. The island trembled, paused--sank
slowly--the sea plunged over it. Two natives and an European bookkeeper
escaped.
A steamer put out from the port of Telok Betong. Two inches of lava lay
upon her deck. Pumice stone lay ten feet deep on the sea around her.
When but a short distance out “we saw a gigantic wave of prodigious
height suddenly advancing upon us at great speed from the
[Illustration: CONVULSION ON THE COAST OF SUMATRA.]
direction of the open sea. Immediately the captain brought his vessel
round so as to meet the wave stern foremost. After a moment of most
piquant anxiety, we found ourselves lifted up with terrific speed; our
vessel bounded upward, and then we felt ourselves plunged into the
abyss. But the wave had passed us and we were out of all danger. Like a
high mountain the gigantic wave sped furiously towards the shore, while
immediately after three other great waves followed it. The waters rushed
in and destroyed the town, sweeping away first the light house, which
fell in like a pack of cards, then all the buildings beyond. In a few
moments all was over, and where once Telok Betong stood there was
nothing but water.”
Livid with terror, the captain steamed rapidly to warn the town of
Anjer. There was no longer an Anjer, a Dutch fort, a garrison. A single
sailor, who had caught a floating tree, stalked about among the corpses.
Krakatoa, which had opened this fearful carnival of death, sank slowly
into the sea. Of the island, twenty-five miles long and seventeen wide,
a small portion of the terribly shattered cone remained in sight. New
islets were made; vast shoals created. Sailors discovered new islands
and landed, only to find themselves on vast floating pumice rafts, miles
from land. New charts had to be made. For a time the seas were hardly
navigable.
Such is the story. The damage to property was millions of dollars. The
loss of life will never be definitely known. First estimates placed it
at 80,000. Conservative judges pronounced it in all probability between
50,000 and 60,000.
The explosions were heard as far away southward as Australia; to the
westward as far as Southern India; to the eastward, they are said to
have been heard in the Caribbean Sea. Even if we reject the latter, we
may take the others, and obtain some idea by imagining volcanoes at St.
Louis to be heard at New York and San Francisco, at Mexico and in
Hudson’s Bay.
The great sea wave rushed from Krakatoa to the Mauritius in eight hours.
It rolled around the coasts of the Australian continent, dashing into
the southern harbors, sweeping through the narrow Bass Straits. It rose
and fell upon Hawaiian coasts in a perplexing manner. It surged against
South America; against East Africa; it rounded Cape Horn and made itself
known on the coasts of France, upon our Atlantic shore. It encircled the
world--the greatest sea wave ever known.
The volcanic, microscopic dust remained long in the air, and occasioned
the singular redness of the sky at morn and eve that prevailed
throughout the world for the next two years. Apart from this suspended
dust, the volcano threw out as much matter as the Mississippi bears to
the gulf in two hundred and fifty years.
The atmospheric wave of low barometer was even more marked than the
oceanic wave. On the day when Krakatoa sank into the sea, the barometric
oscillation was noticed all over the world. From the time at which it
reached Berlin, it is found to have travelled eight hundred and
seventy-five miles an hour. Thirty-six hours later the barometric
oscillations were repeated, but less pronounced. Thirty-seven hours
afterward there came a third, and still fainter series. It appears,
then, that the atmospheric wave, set in motion by this stupendous
outbreak, was powerful enough to thrice encircle the world.
It has been but a short time since geologists believed the magnitude of
the subterranean forces to be greatly decreased; but in view of a
century of great eruptions closed by such an appalling convulsion, it
must be said that the fiery forces are at least as active and powerful
as ever.