Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata

“BLOWN TO BITS.”

The sight that met their eyes was well calculated to shock and sadden men of much less tender feeling than Van der Kemp and Captain Roy.

The water had assumed an appearance of inky blackness, and large masses of pumice were floating past, among which were numerous dead bodies of men, women, and children, intermingled with riven trees, fences, and other wreckage from the land, showing that the two great waves which had already passed under the vessel had caused terrible devastation on some parts of the shore.  To add to the horror of the scene large sea-snakes were seen swimming wildly about, as if seeking to escape from the novel dangers that surrounded them.

The sailors looked on in awe-stricken silence for some time.

“P’raps some of ’em may be alive yet!” whispered one.  “Couldn’t we lower a boat?”

“Impossible in such a sea,” said the captain, who overheard the remark.  “Besides, no life could exist there.”

“Captain Roy,” said Van der Kemp earnestly, “let me advise you to get your foresail ready to hoist at a moment’s notice, and let them stand by to cut the cable.”

“Why so?  There seems no need at present for such strong measures.”

“You don’t understand volcanoes as I do,” returned the hermit.  “This lull will only last until the imprisoned fires overcome the block in the crater, and the longer it lasts the worse will be the explosion.  From my knowledge of the coast I feel sure that we are close to the town of Anjer.  If another wave like the last comes while we are here, it will not slip under your brig like the last one.  It will tear her from her anchor and hurl us all to destruction.  You have but one chance; that is, to cut the cable and run in on the top of it—­a poor chance at the best, but if God wills, we shall escape.”

“If we are indeed as near shore as you think,” said the captain, “I know what you say must be true, for in shoal water such a wave will surely carry all before it.  But are you certain there will be another explosion?”

“No man can be sure of that.  If the last explosion emptied the crater there will be no more.  If it did not, another explosion is certain.  All I advise is that you should be ready for whatever is coming, and ready to take your only chance.”

“Right you are, sir.  Send men to be ready to cut the cable, Mr. Moor.  And stand by the topsail halyards.”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

During the anxious minutes that followed, the hermit rejoined Winnie and Nigel on the quarter-deck, and conversed with the latter in a low voice, while he drew the former to his side with his strong arm.  Captain Roy himself grasped the wheel and the men stood at their various stations ready for action.

“Let no man act without orders, whatever happens,” said the captain in a deep powerful voice which was heard over the whole ship, for the lull that we have mentioned extended in some degree to the gale as well as to the volcano.  Every one felt that some catastrophe was pending.

“Winnie, darling,” said the hermit tenderly, as he bent down to see the sweet face that had been restored to him.  “I greatly fear that there is sure to be another explosion, and it may be His will that we shall perish, but comfort yourself with the certainty that no hair of your dear head can fall without His permission—­and in any event He will not fail us.”

“I know it, father.  I have no fear—­at least, only a little!”

“Nigel,” said the hermit, “stick close to us if you can.  It may be that, if anything should befall me, your strong arm may succour Winnie; mine has lost somewhat of its vigour,” he whispered.

“Trust me—­nothing but death shall sunder us,” said the anxious youth in a burst of enthusiasm.

It seemed as if death were indeed to be the immediate portion of all on board the Sunshine, for a few minutes later there came a crash, followed by a spout of smoke, fire, steam, and molten lava, compared to which all that had gone before seemed insignificant!

The crash was indescribable!  As we have said elsewhere, the sound of it was heard many hundreds of miles from the seat of the volcano, and its effects were seen and felt right round the world.

The numerous vents which had previously been noticed on Krakatoa must at that moment have been blown into one, and the original crater of the old volcano—­said to have been about six miles in diameter—­must have resumed its destructive work.  All the eye-witnesses who were near the spot at the time, and sufficiently calm to take note of the terrific events of that morning, are agreed as to the splendour of the electrical phenomena displayed during this paroxysmal outburst.  One who, at the time, was forty miles distant speaks of the great vapour-cloud looking “like an immense wall or blood-red curtain with edges of all shades of yellow, and bursts of forked lightning at times rushing like large serpents through the air.”  Another says that “Krakatoa appeared to be alight with flickering flames rising behind a dense black cloud.”  A third recorded that “the lightning struck the mainmast conductor five or six times,” and that “the mud-rain which covered the decks was phosphorescent, while the rigging presented the appearance of St. Elmo’s fire.”

It may be remarked here, in passing, that giant steam-jets rushing through the orifices of the earth’s crust constitute an enormous hydro-electric engine; and the friction of ejected materials striking against each other in ascending and descending also generates electricity, which accounts to some extent for the electrical condition of the atmosphere.

In these final and stupendous outbursts the volcano was expending its remaining force in breaking up and ejecting the solid lava which constituted its framework, and not in merely vomiting forth the lava-froth, or pumice, which had characterised the earlier stages of the eruption.  In point of fact—­as was afterwards clearly ascertained by careful soundings and estimates, taking the average height of the missing portion at 700 feet above water, and the depth at 300 feet below it—­two-thirds of the island were blown entirely off the face of the earth.  The mass had covered an area of nearly six miles, and is estimated as being equal to 1-1/8 cubic miles of solid matter which, as Moses expressed it, was blown to bits!

If this had been all, it would have been enough to claim the attention and excite the wonder of the intelligent world—­but this was not nearly all, as we shall see, for saddest of all the incidents connected with the eruption is the fact that upwards of thirty-six thousand human beings lost their lives.  The manner in which that terrible loss occurred shall be shown by the future adventures of the Sunshine.