Through this medium the sun's rays had to penetrate. In so far as the dust-particles were opaque they would obscure these rays; where they were transparent or polished they would refract and reflect them. That the material of which those dust-particles was composed was very various has been ascertained, proved, and recorded by the Krakatoa Committee.

The attempt to expound this matter would probably overtax the endurance of the average reader, yet it may interest all to know that this dust-cloud travelled westward within the tropics at the rate of about double the speed of an express train--say 120 miles an hour; crossed the Indian Ocean and Africa in three days, the Atlantic in two, America in two, and, in short, put a girdle round the world in thirteen days.

Moreover, the cloud of dust was so big that it took two or three days to pa.s.s any given point. During its second circ.u.mnavigation it was considerably spread and thinned, and the third time still more so, having expanded enough to include Europe and the greater part of North America. It had thinned away altogether and disappeared in the spring of 1884.

Who has not seen--at least read or heard of--the gorgeous skies of the autumn of 1883? Not only in Britain, but in all parts of the world, these same skies were seen, admired, and commented on as marvellous. And so they were. One of the chief peculiarities about them, besides their splendour, was the fact that they consisted chiefly of "afterglows"--that is, an increase of light and splendour _after_ the setting of the sun, when, in an ordinary state of things, the grey shadows of evening would have descended on the world. Greenish-blue suns; pink clouds; bright yellow, orange, and crimson afterglows; gorgeous, magnificent, blood-red skies--the commentators seemed unable to find language adequately to describe them. Listen to a German observer's remarks on the subject:--

"The display of November 29th was the grandest and most manifold. I give a description as exactly; as possible, for its overwhelming magnificence still presents itself to me as if it had been yesterday.

When the sun had set about a quarter of an hour, there was not much afterglow, but I had observed a remarkably yellow bow in the south, about 10 above the horizon. In about ten minutes more this arc rose pretty quickly, extended itself all over the east and up to and beyond the zenith. The sailors declared, 'Sir, that is the Northern Lights.' I thought I had never seen Northern Lights in greater splendour. After five minutes more the-light had faded, though not vanished, in the east and south, and the finest purple-red rose up in the south-west; one could imagine one's-self in Fairyland."

All this, and a great deal more, was caused by the dust of Krakatoa!

"But how--how--why?" exclaims an impatient and puzzled reader.

"Ay--there's the rub." Rubbing, by the way, may have had something to do with it. At all events we are safe to say that whatever there was of electricity in the matter resulted from friction.

Here is what the men of science say--as far as we can gather and condense.

The fine dust blown out of Krakatoa was found, under the microscope, to consist of excessively thin, transparent plates or irregular specks of pumice--which inconceivably minute fragments were caused by enormous steam pressure in the interior and the sudden expansion of the ma.s.ses blown out into the atmosphere. Of this gla.s.sy dust, that which was blown into the regions beyond the clouds must have been much finer even than that which was examined. These gla.s.s fragments were said by Dr. Flugel to contain either innumerable air-bubbles or minute needle-like crystals, or both. Small though these vesicles were when ejected from the volcano, they would become still smaller by bursting when they suddenly reached a much lower pressure of atmosphere at a great height.

Some of them, however, owing to tenacity of material and other causes, might have failed to burst and would remain floating in the upper air as perfect microscopic gla.s.s balloons. Thus the dust was a ma.s.s of particles of every conceivable shape, and so fine that no watches, boxes, or instruments were tight enough to exclude from their interior even that portion of the dust which was heavy enough to remain on earth!

Now, to the unscientific reader it is useless to say more than that the innumerable and varied positions of these gla.s.sy particles, some transparent, others semi-transparent or opaque, reflecting the sun's rays in different directions, with a complex modification of colour and effect resulting from the blueness of the sky, the condition of the atmosphere, and many other causes--all combined to produce the remarkable appearances of light and colour which aroused the admiration and wonder of the world in 1883.

The more one thinks of these things, and the deeper one dives into the mysteries of nature, the more profoundly is one impressed at once with a humbling sense of the limited amount of one's knowledge, and an awe-inspiring appreciation of the illimitable fields suggested by that comprehensive expression: "THE WONDERFUL WORKS OF G.o.d."

CHAPTER x.x.x.

COMING EVENTS, ETC.--WONDERFUL CHANGES AMONG THE ISLANDS.

Some days after the wreck of the _Sunshine_, as described in a previous chapter, Captain Roy and his son stood on the coast of Java not far from the ruins of Anjer. A vessel was anch.o.r.ed in the offing, and a little boat lay on the sh.o.r.e.

All sign of elemental strife had pa.s.sed, though a cloud of smoke hanging over the remains of Krakatoa told that the terrible giant below was not dead but only sleeping--to awake, perchance, after a nap of another 200 years.

"Well, father," said our hero with a modest look, "it may be, as you suggest, that Winnie Van der Kemp does not care for me more than for a fathom of salt water----"

"I did not say salt water, lad, I said bilge--a fathom o' _bilge_ water," interrupted the captain, who, although secretly rejoiced at the fact of his son having fallen over head and ears in love with the pretty little Cocos-Keeling islander, deemed it his duty, nevertheless, as a sternly upright parent, to, make quite sure that the love was mutual as well as deep before giving his consent to anything like courtship.

"It matters not; salt or bilge water makes little difference," returned the son with a smile. "But all I can say is that I care for Winnie so much that her love is to me of as much importance as sunshine to the world--and we have had some experience lately of what the want of _that_ means."

"Nonsense, Nigel," returned the captain severely. "You're workin'

yourself into them up-in-the-clouds, reef-point-patterin' regions again--which, by the way, should be pretty well choked wi' Krakatoa dust by this time. Come down out o' that if ye want to hold or'nary intercourse wi' your old father. She's far too young yet, my boy. You must just do as many a young fellow has done before you, attend to your dooties and forget her."

"Forget her!" returned the youth, with that amused, quiet expression which wise men sometimes a.s.sume when listening to foolish suggestions.

"I could almost as easily forget my mother!"

"A very proper sentiment, Nigel, very--especially the 'almost' part of it."

"Besides," continued the son, "she is not so _very_ young--and that difficulty remedies itself every hour. Moreover, I too am young. I can wait."

"The selfishness of youth is only equalled by its presumption," said the captain. "How d'ee know _she_ will wait?"

"I don't know, father, but I hope she will--I--I--_think_ she will."

"Nigel," said the captain, in a tone and with a look that were meant to imply intense solemnity, "have you ever spoken to her about love?"

"No, father."

"Has she ever spoken to _you_?"

"No--at least--not with her lips."

"Come, boy, you're humbuggin' your old father. Her tongue couldn't well do it without the lips lendin' a hand."

"Well then--with neither," returned the son. "She spoke with her eyes--not intentionally, of course, for the eyes, unlike the lips, refuse to be under control."

"Hm! I see--reef-point-patterin' poetics again! An' what did she say with her eyes?"

"Really, father, you press me too hard; it is difficult to translate eye-language, but if you'll only let memory have free play and revert to that time, nigh quarter of a century ago, when you first met with a certain _real_ poetess, perhaps--"

"Ah! you dog! you have me there. But how dare you, sir, venture to think of marryin' on nothin'?"

"I don't think of doing so. Am I not a first mate with a handsome salary?"

"No, lad, you're not. You're nothin' better than a seaman out o' work, with your late ship wrecked in a cocoa-nut grove!"

"That's true," returned Nigel with a laugh. "But is not the cargo of the said ship safe in Batavia? Has not its owner a good bank account in England? Won't another ship be wanted, and another first mate, and would the owner dare to pa.s.s over his own son, who is such a competent seaman--according to your own showing? Come, father, I turn the tables on you and ask you to aid rather than resist me in this matter."

"Well, I will, my boy, I will," said the captain heartily, as he laid his hand on his son's shoulder. "But, seriously, you must haul off this little craft and clap a stopper on your tongue--ay, and on your eyes too--till three points are considered an' made quite clear. First, you must find out whether the hermit would be agreeable. Second, you must look the matter straight in the face and make quite sure that you mean it. For better or for worse. No undoin' _that_ knot, Nigel, once it's fairly tied! And, third, you must make quite sure that Winnie is sure of her own mind, an' that--that--"

"We're all sure all round, father. Quite right. I agree with you. 'All fair an' aboveboard' should be the sailing orders of every man in such matters, especially of every seaman. But, will you explain how I am to make sure of Winnie's state of mind without asking her about it?"

"Well, I don't exactly see my way," replied the captain slowly. "What d'ee say to my soundin' her on the subject?"

"Couldn't think of it! You may be first-rate at deep-sea soundings, father, but you couldn't sound the depths of a young girl's heart. I must reserve that for myself, however long it may be delayed."

"So be it, lad. The only embargo that I lay upon you is--haul off, and mind you don't let your figurehead go by the board. Meanwhile, here comes the boat. Now, Nigel, none o' your courtin' till everything is settled and the wind fair--dead aft my lad, and blowin' stiff. You and the hermit are goin' off to Krakatoa to-day, I suppose?"

"Yes. I am just now waiting for him and Moses," returned Nigel.

"Is Winnie going?"

"Don't know. I hope so."

"Humph! Well, if we have a fair wind I shall soon be in Batavia," said the captain, descending to business matters, "and I expect without trouble to dispose of the cargo that we landed there, as well as that part o' the return cargo which I had bought before I left for Keeling--at a loss, no doubt, but that don't matter much. Then I'll come back here by the first craft that offers--arter which----. Ay!--Ay!

shove her in here. Plenty o' water."