Part 39 (1/2)

Lying as it did so close to the sea-level, the Krakatoa volcano, having blown away all its cones, and vents, and safety-valves--from Perboewatan southward, except the peak of Rakata--let the sea rush in upon its infernal fires. This result, ordinary people think, produced a gush of steam which caused the grand terminal explosions. Vulcanologists think otherwise, and with reason--which is more than can be said of ordinary people, who little know the power of the forces at work below the crust of our earth! The steam thus produced, although on so stupendous a scale, was free to expand and therefore went upwards, no doubt in a sufficiently effective gust and cloud. But nothing worthy of being named a blow-up was there.

The effect of the in-rus.h.i.+ng water was to cool the upper surface of the boiling lava and convert it into a thick hard solid crust at the mouth of the great vent. In this condition the volcano resembled a boiler with all points of egress closed and the safety-valve shut down! Oceans of molten lava creating expansive gases below; no outlet possible underneath, and the neck of the bottle corked with tons of solid rock!

One of two things must happen in such circ.u.mstances: the cork must go or the bottle must burst! Both events happened on that terrible night. All night long the corks were going, and at last--Krakatoa burst!

In the hurly-burly of confusion, smoke, and noise, no eye could note the precise moment when the island was shattered, but there were on the morning of the 27th four supreme explosions, which rang loud and high above the horrible average din. These occurred--according to the careful investigations made, at the instance of the Dutch Indian Government, by the eminent geologist, Mr. R.D.M. Verbeek--at the hours of 5.30, 6.44, 10.2, and 10.52 in the morning. Of these the third, about 10, was by far the worst for violence and for the wide-spread devastation which it produced.

At each of these explosions a tremendous sea-wave was created by the volcano, which swept like a watery ring from Krakatoa as a centre to the surrounding sh.o.r.es. It was at the second of these explosions--that of 6.44--that the fall of the mighty cliff took place which was seen by the hermit and his friends as they fled from the island, and, on the crest of the resulting wave, were carried along they scarce knew whither.

As the previous wave--that of 5.30--had given the brig a tremendous heave upwards, the captain, on hearing the second, ran down below for a moment to tell Kathleen there would soon be another wave, but that she need fear no danger.

”The brig is deep and has a good hold o' the water,” he said, ”so the wave is sure to slip under her without damage. I wish I could hope it would do as little damage when it reaches the sh.o.r.e.”

As he spoke a strange and violent crash was heard overhead, quite different from volcanic explosions, like the falling of some heavy body on the deck.

”One o' the yards down!” muttered the captain as he ran to the cabin door. ”Hallo, what's that, Mr. Moor?”

”Canoe just come aboard, sir.”

”A canoe?”

”Yes, sir. Crew, three men and a monkey. All insensible--hallo!”

The ”hallo!” with which the second mate finished his remark was so unlike his wonted tone, and so full of genuine surprise, that the captain ran forward with unusual haste, and found a canoe smashed to pieces against the foremast, and the mate held a lantern close to the face of one of the men while the crew were examining the others.

A single glance told the captain that the mud-bespattered figure that lay before him as if dead was none other than his own son! The great wave had caught the frail craft on its crest, and, sweeping it along with lightning speed for a short distance, had hurled it on the deck of the _Suns.h.i.+ne_ with such violence as to completely stun the whole crew.

Even Spinkie lay in a melancholy little heap in the lee scuppers.

You think this a far-fetched coincidence, good reader! Well, all we can say is that we could tell you of another--a double--coincidence, which was far more extraordinary than this one, but as it has nothing to do with our tale we refrain from inflicting it on you.

CHAPTER XXVI.

A CLIMAX.

Three of those who had tumbled thus unceremoniously on the deck of the _Suns.h.i.+ne_ were soon sufficiently recovered to sit up and look around in dazed astonishment--namely Nigel, Moses, and the monkey--but the hermit still lay p.r.o.ne where he had been cast, with a pretty severe wound on his head, from which blood was flowing freely.

”Nigel, my boy!”

”Father!” exclaimed the youth. ”Where am I? What has happened?”

”Don't excite yourself, lad,” said the mariner, stooping and whispering into his son's ear. ”We've got _her_ aboard!”

No treatment could have been more effectual in bringing Nigel to his senses than this whisper.

”Is--is--Van der Kemp safe?” he asked anxiously.

”All right--only stunned, I think. That's him they're just goin' to carry below. Put 'im in my bunk, Mr. Moor.”

”Ay ay, sir.”