Suggested reading: "KRAKATOA The day the world exploded 27 August 1883". Author Simon Winchester Viking Books 2003, ISBN 0-670-91428-2

It is impossible for those of us fortunate enough to cruise Sunda Strait and visit the Krakatau group of islands, not to wonder what it was like during and after the Krakatau explosion in August 1883, or quietly shudder as we anchor in the shadow of the violently torn north face of Rakata Island.

We've all read accounts of the explosion and subsequent tsunamis, but recently Andrew Slatter was good enough to provide the Newsletter with a whole collection of Krakatau tales, which may make interesting reading for Sunda Strait yachties.

This month's story is a report by the then "Controller" of a village on the northern end of Semangka Bay, one P.L.C. Le Sueur:

At 6 o'clock I went to the beach. The sea was so low that many cliffs were visible. It looked queer and I did not feel at ease. I called for van Zuylen, my assistant, so that we could draw up a report to the resident about what had happened.

It was just past 7 and the lights were on. A moment later van Zuylen said "I am sorry, but I would like to stop for a moment. I don't feel at ease".

Scarcely were those words uttered when we heard a terrible noise. The, women and children fled from their houses shouting "The water is coming. The water is coming".

Van Zuylen, the servant and I left the house in a hurry and invited everyone to take shelter in my house, which they accepted. I did so because my house was built on piles and situated on a hill.

The water once again returned to the sea Everybody calmed down. But only for a short while because, almost at once, we heard the water approaching again with a terrible noise. 200-300 people were sheltering in my house.

I walked from one side to another to maintain peace and quiet. Suddenly I heard the front portion of the house collapse, and the water rushed in. I advised everyone to go to the rear.

But, my God, scarcely was I standing than the house collapsed completely and the current dragged all of us along. I got hold of a shelf with which I floated along until I was pulled by the legs and let go of the shelf. After that I got hold of a few pieces of thin wood and managed to stay afloat until the water returned to the sea and I felt solid ground under my feet. However, I stayed where I was and covered my head with my coat to protect myself against the mud rain. I heard men, women and children call for help, but any help was impossible. I could not raise myself out of weakness and fear and could not see a thing.

Suddenly the water returned with the same force. I said a quick prayer, asking for help for everybody, and myself and prepared myself for death. The water took hold of me, turned me around, and threw me away with terrible force.

Then I got stuck between two floating houses. I couldn't breath anymore and I thought that the end was come. But suddenly they parted and I got hold of a banana trunk and stuck to it with all my strength. I don't know how long I floated around, but again the water returned to the sea and once again I stood on solid ground.

Again I sat there for at least an hour without moving and it was dark everywhere and the mud rain was still going on. I did hear people shout, but that was all.

A moment later I heard a native talking to a few women. I called out to them and proposed we walk along together, which was accepted. I left my place with closed eyes and touched the ground all around, leaving the sea behind me. I did not have any clothes on anymore, except a vest which was badly torn anyway, so I walked stark naked in the cold and mud rain.

Soon I discovered that the thee persons had departed, as I did not hear them anymore (with a streaker around was it any wonder! Ed).

I would have given a thousand guilders if I could only have found my previous place, as where I was walking now the ground was covered with thorns and nasty bushes, and all the time I fell over trees and the debris of houses.

Walking along for some time, I at least heard voices again. I opened my eyes and saw a native with some women. I told them I was the Controller, and together we reached Penenggoenga (15 km NW of Beneawang) that evening at 8 o'clock. My ordeal had lasted from 8 in the morning until 8 in the evening.

I had heard the deafening reports from Krakatao on Sunday afternoon, and had seen later the dense black smoke and the glare of the fiery light resting on the summit of the volcano. Still, we all hoped for the best. But on the following morning, when the darkness remained instead of light, and the shower of ashes increased, I grew more alarmed. It seemed to me that if matters got worse we should be completely buried by falling lava, like some of the places in old times were, and that a dreadful death awaited us if we remained in town. I therefore felt it best to get as far away from Krakatao as possible.

It was still quite early when I decided on making for the neighboring hills several miles distant. I had a number of relations living in town, but they seemed to fancy themselves safe enough at home, and they accordingly remained behind. I never saw any of them again alive. Five of them perished and worst of all, only two of their bodies were recovered. These were found buried beneath the ruined houses in which they met their end, and were scarcely recognizable. The others must have been carried out to sea, and probably formed part of the many hundreds seen later on floating in the Straits of Soenda by the captains of passing vessels.

I had not proceeded a great distance from Anjer when the first volcanic wave broke upon the coast. Of course, even that one was terrible enough, but it was nothing to be compared with the second one which followed a little later. I could see that the town had been seriously injured by inundations, and no doubt some life's were lost in that first overflow. Alarmed by what I had already noticed, I quickened my place inland. The farther from the coast, I thought the safer I should be, and so it proved.

The site of Anjer is, for the most part, very level ground: but four or five miles away are some hills, densely covered with cocoa-nut and palm trees. these formed a pretty background to the town. I decided to make for this rising ground as fast as I possibly could. As I proceeded I found some of my neighbors from Anjer making for the same spot. Some of them were fortunately enough to reach this place of safety before the final destruction came. Others whom I passed along the way were overtaken by the second wave, or rushing torrent and at once found a watery grave.

Breathless with running I came as fast as possible up the densely wooded slopes, and was only just in time. the great wave, sweeping all before it, was close on my heels as the rising ground brought me safely out of its reach. Its fury was much spent as it broke upon the hills, but it was very powerful even then. But the higher ground soon checked its force, and send it back again towards the sea. Of the actual destruction I saw but little. I was too much frightened to stop and watch the ruin it caused. My one idea was to get as high up as I was able and of course I thought of nothing else at the time.

There were some terrible scenes afterwards on the roads leading into the interior of the island. All the natives in the neighboring kampongs turned against us, and refused those of us who had escaped the least help of food. Many of the Europeans- especially the women- exhausted with fatigue, and almost frightened out of their lives, were sinking down in a helpless state by the wayside. Although the worst was over as regards the volcanic wave, many sank down and died by the road from exhaustion and neglect. Not only did many of the natives refuse to help us in the least, but they actually drove us fiercely from their houses. The reason of that was that....The Javanese are exceedingly superstitious, and attributed their misfortunes to us.

I have lived in Anjer all my life, and little thought the old town would have been destroyed in the way it has. I am getting on in years, and quite expected to have laid my bones in the little cemetery near the shore, but not even that has escaped, and some of the bodies have actually been washed out of their graves and carried of to sea. The whole town has been swept away and I have lost everything except my life. The wonder is that I escaped at all. I can never be too thankful for such a miraculous escape as I had.

The eruption began on the Sunday afternoon. We did not take much notice first until the reports grew very loud. Then we noticed that Krakatau was completely enveloped in smoke. Afterwards came on the thick darkness, so black and intense that I could not see my hands in front of my eyes. Towards the night everything became worse. The reports became deafening the natives covered down cowered down panic stricken, and a fiery glare was visible in the sky above the burning mountain. Although Krakatau was 25 miles away, the concussion and vibration from the constantly repeated shocks was most terrifying. Many of the houses shook so much that we feared every minute would bring them down. There was little sleep for any of us that dreadful night. Before daybreak on Monday, on going out of doors, I found the shower of ashes had commenced, and this gradually increased in force until at length large pieces of pumice-stone kept falling aground. About six a.m. I was walking along the beach. there was no sign of the sun, as usual, and the sky had a dull, depressing look. Some of the darkness of the previous day had cleared off, but it was not very light even then. Looking out to sea I noticed a dark black object through the gloom, traveling towards the shore.

At first it seemed like a low range of hills rising out of the water, but I knew there was nothing of that kind in that part of Soenda Strait. A second glance- and a very hurried one it was - convinced me that it was a lofty ridge of water many feet high, and worse still, it would soon break on the coast near the town. There was no time to give any warning, and so I turned and ran for my life. My running days have long gone, but you may be sure that I did my best. In a few minutes I heard the water with a loud roar break upon the shore. Everything was engulfed. Another glance around showed the houses being swept away and the trees thrown down on every side. Breathless and exhausted I still pressed on . As I heard the rushing waters behind me, I knew that it was a race for life. Struggling on , a few yards brought me to some rising ground, and here the torrent of water overtook me. I gave up all for lost, as I saw with dismay how high the waves still was. I was soon taken off my feet and born inland by the force of the restless mass. I remember nothing more until a violent blow aroused me. Some hard firm substance seemed within my reach, and clutching it I found I had gained a place of safety. The water swept past, and I found myself clinging to a cocoanut palm-tree. Most of the trees near the town were uprooted and thrown down for miles, but this one fortunately had escaped and myself with it.

The huge wave rolled o, gradually decreasing in height and strength until the mountain slopes at the back of Anjer were reached, and then, its furry spent, the waters gradually receded and flowed back into the sea. the sight of those receding water haunts me still. As I clung to the palm tree, wet and exhausted, there floated past the dead bodies of many a friend and neighbor. Only a mere handful of the population escaped. Houses and streets were completely destroyed and scarcely a trace remains of where the once busy, thriving town originally stood. Unless you go yourself to see the ruin you will never believe how completely the place has been swept away. Dead bodies, fallen trees, wrecked houses, an immense muddy morass and great pools of water, are all that is left of the town where my life has been spent. My home and all my belongings of course perished- but I am thankful enough to have escaped with my life, and to be none the worse for all that I have passed through

At Merak, a Javanese survivor gave the following account of the giant waves which hit the west coast of Java as a result of the volcanic eruptions at Krakatau on August 27r'', 1883:

"I was working a long way from the sea -,four or five paalen (5 - 6 . kilometers) from the coast. A lot of other natives were with me in the paddee field. We were cultivating rice, we had gone to work as usual, in spite of the volcano, we did not think it would hit us. And all of a sudden there came a great noise. We looked round at once and saw a great black thing, a long way off, coming towards us. It was very high and strong, and we soon saw that it was water: Trees and houses were washed away as it came along. The people near began to cry out and run for their lives. Not far off was some steep sloping, ground. We all ran towards it and tried to climb up out of the way of the water. It was too quick for most of them, and many were drowned almost at my side. I managed to get a long way up, and then the water came very near to me. When I thought I was safe I looked back and saw the wave wash people down one after the other as they tried to scramble out of its way. There was a general rush to climb up in one particular place. This caused a great block, and many of them got wedged together and could not move. Then they struggled and fought, screaming and crying out all the time. Those below tried to make those above them move on again by biting their heels. A great struggle took place for a few moments, but it was soon over. One after another they were washed down and carried far away by the rushing waters, You can see the marks on the side of the hill where this fight for life took place. Some of those who were washed off dragged others with them. They would not let go their hold, nor could those above them release themselves from this death-grip. Many were high enough up to have altogether escaped if they had not thus been dragged down by their unfortunate companions.”

Engineer Abell also, saw the wave: He left Merak at 7:30 that morning to report to his chief in Batavia. Looking back from the mountain road, he saw ” a colossal wave” roaring up the shore. It was higher than the highest coconut palm, he recalled later. No one in its path could have survived, he told his chief. The wall of water rushed over the land, looking like something he could not have "dreamed in a nightmare”.

One European and one native only survived at Merak: twenty-seven hundred of its inhabitants died, including thirteen Europeans. The story of their deaths is one of the strangest of the whole disaster, as they were sheltered on top of the hill behind the town. It was 130 ft high, yet the great wave roared up its slopes and destroyed all the stone-build European houses on its top, leaving only foundations. [Another account gives the hill height at 115 ft and the wave as 135 ft, or 41 meters, above sea level].

Works accountant E. Peckler saw the wave coming. He ran further up the hill, the wave gaining on him. He fell exhausted, expecting to be engulfed. Looking back he saw the wave rushing towards him. Heaving himself up, he ran further, falling: on his knees and losing consciousness. When he regained his senses, he saw the wave receding. All the houses were gone.

The Eruption of Krakatoa

By Sir Robert Ball

Published in The National Geographic Magazine Vol XIII, June 1902 Nº6, page 200

The following description by Sir Robert Ball of the eruption of the Krakatoa will be read with special interest at the present time. It is taken from his book, “The Earth’s Beginning” just published by D.Appleton, and which is reviewed on another page of this number

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 is 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 are abounded. Geographers in early days hardly condescended to notice Krakatoa. The name of the island on their maps would have been far longer than the island itself. 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 by bygone 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

In 1883, Krakatoa suddenly sprang into notoriety. Insignificantly though it had hitherto seemed the little island was soon to compel by its tones of thunder the whole world to pay it instant attention. It was to become the scene of a volcanic outbreak so appalling that it is destined to be remembered throughout the ages. In the spring of that year were symptoms that the volcanic powers in Krakatoa were once more about to wake from the slumber that had endured for many generations. Notable warnings were given. Earthquakes were felt and deep rumblings proceeded from the earth, showing that some disturbances was in preparation, and that the old volcano was again to burst forth after its long period of rest. At first the eruption did not threaten to be of any serious type. In fact the good people of Batavia, so far from being terrified at what was in progress in Krakatoa, thought the display was such an attraction that they chartered a steamer and went forth for a pleasant picnic to the island. Many of us, I am sure, would have been delighted to have been able to join the party who were to witness so interesting spectacle. With cautious steps the more ventmesome of the excursion party clambered up the sides of the volcano guided by the sounds, which were issuing from its summit. There they beheld a vast column of steam pouring forth with terrific noise from a profound opening about thirty yards width.

As the summer of this dread year advanced, the vigor of Krakatoa steadily increased. The noises became more and more vehement. There 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 upwards 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 the density of these atmospheric volumes of Krakatoa dust that for 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.

Gradually the development of the volcanic energy proceeded and gradually the terror of the inhabitants of the surrounding coast rose to a climax. July had ended before the manifestations of Krakatoa had attained their full violence. As the days of August passed by, the spasm 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 illuminated by lurid flashes from the volcano. The Krakatoa thunders were on the point of attaining their complete development. At the town of Batavia, a hundred miles distant, there was no quiet that night. The houses trembled with the subterranean violence and the windows rattled as if heavy artillery were being discharged in the streets, ands 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 effort all records of previous explosions on this earth were completely broken.

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 it’s vehemence over so great distance but should form a very inadequate conception of the energy of the eruption of the Krakatoa we thought that it’s sounds were heard by those merely a hundred miles off. This would be little indeed with what is recorded on testimony which it is impossible to doubt.

Westward from Krakatoa streches 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 3,000 miles. It has been proved by evidence, which cannot be doubted that the thunders of the great volcano attracted the attention of an intelligent coastguard 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 explosion, for this is the time the sound occupied on its journey.

We shall better realize the extraordinary vehemence of this tremendous noise if we imagine a similar event to take place in localities more known to most of us than are the far Eastern seas.

If Vesuvius were vigorous enough to emit a roar like Krakatoa, how great would be the consternation of the world!. Such a report might be heard by King Edward at Windsor, and by the Czar of all Russias at Moscow. It would astonish the German emperor and all his subjects; It would penetrate to the seclusion of the Sultan at Constantinople. Nansen would still have been within its reach when he was furthest north near the Pole. It would have extended to the sources of the Nile, near the Equator. It would have been heard by Mohammedan pilgrims at Meca. It would have reached the ears of exiles in Siberia. No inhabitant of Persia would have been beyond its range while passengers on half the liners crossing the Atlantic would also catch the mighty reverberation. Or to take another illustration, let us suppose that a similar earth-shaking event took place in a central position in the United States. Let us say, for example, that an explosion occurred at Pike’s Peak as resonant as that from Krakatoa. It would certainly startle not a little the inhabitants of Colorado far and wide. The ears of dwellers in the neighbouring states would receive a considerable shock. With lessening intensity the sound would spread much farther around-indeed it might be heard all over the United States. The sonorous waves would roll over to the Atlantic Coast: they would be heard on the shores of the Pacific. Florida would not be too far to the south, nor Alaska too remote to the north. If indeed we could believe that the sound would travel as freely over the great continent as it did across the Indian Ocean, then we may boldly assert that every ear in North America might listen to the thunder from Pike’s Peak, if it rivalled Krakatoa. The reverberations might even be audible by skin clad Eskimos, amid the snow of Greenland and by the naked Indians sweltering on the Orinoco. Can we doubt that Krakatoa made the greatest noise that has ever been recorded?

Among many the many other incidents connected with this explosion, I may specially mention the wonderful system of divergent ripples that started in our atmosphere from the point at which the eruption took place. I have called them ripples from the obvious resemblance, which they bear to the circular expanding ripples produced by raindrops, which fall upon the still surface of water. But it would be more correct to say that these objects were a series of great undulations, which started from Krakatoa and spread forth in enlarging circles through our atmosphere. The initial impetus was so tremendous that these waves that these waves spread for hundreds and thousands of miles. They diverged, in fact, until they put a mightily girdle round the earth, on a great circle of which Krakatoa was the pole. The atmospheric waves, with the whole earth now well in their grasp, advanced into the opposite hemisphere. In their farther progress they had necessarily to form gradually contacting circles until at least they converged to a point in Central America, at the very opposite point of the diameter of our earth, 8,000 miles from Krakatoa. Thus the waves completely embraced the earth. Every part of our atmosphere had been set into a tingle by the great eruption. In Great Britain the waves passed over our heads, the air in our streets, the air in our houses, trembled from the volcanic impulse. The very oxygen supplying our lungs was responding also to the supreme convulsion, which took place 10,000 miles away. It is needless to object that this could not have taken place because we did not feel it. Self-registering barometers have enabled these waves to be followed unmistakably all over the globe.

Such was the energy with which these vibrations were initiated at Krakatoa, that even the waves thus arising had converged to the point diametrically opposite in South America their vigour was not yet exhausted. The waves were then, strange to say, reflected back to retrace their steps to Krakatoa. Starting from Central America, they again described a series of enlarging circles until they embraced the whole earth. Then, advancing into the opposite hemisphere they gradually contracted until they had regained the Straits of Sunda from which they had set forth about thirty-six hours previously. Here was indeed a unique experience. The airwaves had twice gone from end to end of this globe of ours. Even then the atmosphere did not subside until, after some oscillations of gradually fading intensity, at last they became evanescent.

But besides these phenomenal modulations, this mightily almost says nothing, as to the conditions prevailing above the height of ten miles overhead. We were almost ignorant of what the wind might be at an altitude of, let us say, twenty miles. It was Krakatoa, which first give 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. We could neither see these winds not feel them. How could we learn whether they really existed? No doubt, a straw will show the way the wind blows: but there was nothing to render the winds perceptible into Krakatoa came to our aid. Krakatoa drove into those winds prodigious quantities of dust. Hundreds of cubic miles of air was thus deprived of that invisibility which they had hitherto maintained. They were thus compelled to disclose those movements about which neither before nor since, have we had any opportunity of learning.

With eyes full of astonishment, men watched those vast volumes of Krakatoa dust start on a tremendous journey. Westward the dust of Krakatoa took its way. 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. We cannot call it a trade wind for it has never rendered and never will render any service to navigation. 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 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 winds does not come within less then twenty miles of the earth surface. We are thus preserved from the fearful destruction that it’s unintermittent blast would produce- blast 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 has 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.

The Jakarta Offshore Sailing Club

Krakatau Stories

By Sir Robert Ball