Tales From Krakatoa: An Elephant in the Room
Posted: Thursday, February 09, 2012
by Jack H. Schick
(First article in this series)
Monsieur Louis Cressonnier, the French owner of Hotel des Indes in the city of Batavia on the island of Java, had been up most of the night. About 1:00 a.m. there had been a particularly severe grumble from Krakatoa, eighty or so miles to the west. He’d grown used to the frequent tremors of the East Indies, but they’d become almost constant since the tiny volcanic island in the Sunda Strait had come to life in May. In the first weeks after the eruption he’d been required to hire additional labors to clean up the fine ash that had settled onto the city and his hotel grounds. The mountain’s eruptions had died down, and, as most people had, he’d come to ignore Krakatoa’s sputtering and shaking. He had another serious matter on his mind and thinking about it had made it impossible to get back to sleep.
Nearly a month later the circus was still selling out performances every night. There was no end in sight to the bonanza, but, on top of the brawls, the elephant incident had been the final straw. By the time dawn came, coloring the eastern sky a brilliant red from the freshly ejected Krakatoa ash, Cressonnier had made his decision. He simply had to evict the whole bunch; clowns, acrobats, and cannonball catcher. He’d confront Mrs. Wilson and insist that she immediately ‘remove from the premises,’ taking all of her people and animals with her, particularly the elephant.
There had been some concern in Java that the circus wouldn’t come at all. News reports and descriptions of the Krakatoa eruption had traveled around the globe on recently laid telegraph lines. Passage through the Sunda Straits had been temporarily restricted. Travelers and merchants had been frightened by reports like the one issued by Captain Hollman of the German warship, Elizabeth. At 10:30 on the morning of May 20, he happened to be on his bridge looking directly at the 2,625-foot southern summit of Krakatoa:
“…We saw from the island a white cumulus cloud, rising fast. It rose almost vertically until, after about half an hour, it had reached a height of about 11,000 meters….When about 4:00 in the afternoon a light SSE breeze started, it brought a fine ash dust which increased strongly…until the entire ship was covered….”
Ship’s chaplain, Father Heims added: “Glasses and heads all turned towards…Krakatau: there, at least 17 nautical miles distant, an enormous shining wide vapor column rose…” He compared the plume to a giant cauliflower and to “the convoluting steam column from the smoke stack of a gigantic standing steam locomotive.” Even after the ship had moved off nearly 75 miles he said, “…we had to sit in the evening with our faces looking backwards as we sat together trying to get some air. The distribution of the ash-fall would be over an area at least as large as Germany.”
The island’s rumbling and tremors continued, but the ash-fall abated. Inhabitants of the East Indies had experienced many volcanic eruptions and were complacent about ground movements, which were more common there than almost anywhere on Earth. Over the next few months, as Krakatoa settled into a less violent routine, life returned to almost normal. Ships again braved the passage. Trade and travel resumed, and the Great World Circus departed San Francisco for the East Indies. After a profitable stay in Singapore, they boarded a liner and sailed for Batavia.
Batavia was established in 1619, centered on a small Dutch fort across the slow moving Ciliwung River from what was the ancient Hindu port town of Jakarta, on the north coast of the island of Java. First settled prior to 347a.d. the town was renamed Sunda Kelapa when it became a possession of the Kingdom of Sunda in 669a.d. By the 1300’s it had grown into a major trading port. In 1513, the Portuguese established a treaty with Sunda which permitted construction of warehouses and a fort at the site. It became a relay point on their trade route to the ‘Spice Islands.’ In 1557, the Muslim leader Fatahillah conquered the city from Sunda and renamed it Jayakarta.
In the 16thCentury the Dutch and British East India Companies drove out the Portuguese and vied for control of trade in the region. As a result of a local conflict between the Sultan of Bantan and Prince Jayawikarta, whose palace was in the city, a ‘shooting’ conflict ensued; the British sided with the Prince, the Dutch with the Sultan. On May 30, 1619, Dutch Governor Jan Pieterszoon Coen, attacked Jayakarta and burned the city and its Palace to the ground. The population was driven into the countryside. A new town was built adjacent to the fort and was named Batavia, the ancient name of the kingdom of Holland.
Batavia became the “Queen of the East” during the century of Dutch domination in the Spice Islands (in 1673 its population was about 27,000). But, the city had deteriorated into a dingy squalor by the early 1700’s, and was called a “pox-ridden graveyard for Europeans.” Temporarily controlled by the British until the treaty of 1784, Java reverted to Dutch, then Napoleonic rule by 1808. The French governor built a new administrative city five miles inland, considering the old city unsalvageable. The new Batavia thrived and rapidly grew. By 1866 there were half a million residents. Less than twenty years later, at the time of the elephant incident at the Hotel des Indes, more than a million people lived there.
1883 had been a wonderful year for the social elite in Batavia. In February, the King’s Day dance had been so successful that newspapers were still talking about it that summer. In May horse races were held up on the mountain drawing thousands. It was followed by a costume ball in the steward’s hall. Governor-General Frederik Jacobs attended. A week after the annoying eruption of Krakatoa on May 20, there was a festival at the Batavia Plant and Animal Garden.
Batavia truly was the “Queen of the East” again. On July 20, the Fiado, a 985 ton British steamship arrived from Austrailia. It had been fitted with refrigeration equipment and delivered the first cargo of frozen beef, lamb and pork to the city; to the delight of all who could afford it. The center of social life was the swanky Concordia Military Club. The balls and soirees held there were noted for their lavishness and bordered on decadent. On July 28, just before the circus arrived, a masked ball was held for 300 couples who arrived by carriage. The gardens were illuminated with Chinese lanterns and obelisks lit with piped gas. Turkish kiosk with a sky-blue roof was built for the band. No steamy East Indies summer or the sputtering of a volcano eighty miles away would disrupt the gay social life. But, one Batavian newspaper, the Algemeen Dagblad complained, “What musical entertainment there is can hardly be enjoyed because of all the shaking noised of he doors and windows caused by Krakatau.”
The Great World Circus co-owner, Scotswoman Anna Wilson, sailed from Singapore with her troupe while husband John, toured South East Asia looking for new talent. The circus was always enthusiastically welcomed in Batavia. This trip, there would be special surprises. Two years earlier there had been complaints that the shows were too hot and crowded. In New York, Mrs. Wilson purchased a huge new tent. She christened it ‘the Mammoth.’ Posters across the city announced to the excited public, “Room for 5,000 seats!” Barkers shouted through the streets, “Real gas-lamp illumination!” Newspapers proclaimed, “Unbelievable new attractions!”
There were hundreds of acts, including, tightrope-walkers, fire-eaters, a pigeon charmer, the Nelson Family acrobats, Hector and Faue, Lords of the Trapeze and William Gregory, Gymnast King. There were twenty Arabian horses and the world’s smallest trained elephant, a two-ton miniature Indian pachyderm kept my Miss Nanette Lockhart. There were dozens of clowns that thrilled the crowds with their antics and, on August 22nd, engaged the Batavia Cricket Club in a match. Dressed in costume, the clowns were soundly defeated before a throng of fans.
Appearing in the Orient for the first time was “Cannonball Holtum from Denmark, and his incredible, death-defying feats of courage and fearlessness.” 38 year old John Holtum caught cannonballs that were fired at a 100 miles per hour from fifty feet across the ring. Holtum had three fingers ripped off while developing his act but persisted and became a crowd pleaser. Since his biggest rival, an Italian, was cut in two by a grenade that he was attempting to deflect with his muscular chest, Holtum started calling himself the Cannonball King.
Holtum challenged anyone in the audience to attempt his feat. Across Europe and America 161 men had accepted, but failed—there is no report of injuries incurred. He also challenged any ‘big’ man in the crowd to try to pull him off balance with a rope tied around his waist. None succeeded. To show the futility of the effort, Holtum had four horses harnessed to the rope. However, the animals’ angry and confused jerking did what no man could—toppled him over and dragged him around the ring like a sack of oats. Afterwards, he dispensed with that demonstration.
Though M. Cressonnier had high hopes, unacceptable behavior by performers staying at his hotel broke out during the first week. Newspaper reports claim that there was heavy drinking and arguing over who was the funniest clown, or who was best on the trapeze, etc. One performer took particular umbrage and threw his glass at another. A full scale riot broke out. Drinks, food, furniture and fist flew. The police were called as athletes battled gymnasts, horsemen wrestled jugglers, trapeze-men swung at clowns. Mrs. Wilson, who desperately tried to regain order, was punched in the face. Several performers suffered serious bites. The luxurious bar in what was called the grandest hotel in the Dutch empire was a shambles.
The volatile mood of the circus people was paralleled by Krakatoa. Dutch army Captain H.J.G. Ferzenaar was order to conduct a survey of the fifteen square mile, smoking island by the military topography service. He could enlist no volunteers to join him and spent two day there alone, beginning on August 11. He saw signs that the volcano might be ready to do “something spectacular.” He found three new craters (one of which looked particularly “potent”), fourteen vents in the rocky surface, and fumaroles from which grey or pink smoke was rising.
Passing ships began to report “new and dangerous-looking activity,” at Krakatoa. On August 22, a shipmaster reported a “vast eruptive column.” On the 25th another spoke of “shakes and heavy blows.” Ominously, on the 26th, a villager on the island “found hot ashes coming up through the crevices in the floor of his hut,” and the seas grew unexplainably rough. Eighty miles away at Batavia, citizens noticed that the tremors had become more frequent and more severe. Ash was falling again. They could see that a pillar of smoke was rising from Krakatoa again. They were concerned, but had gotten used to it. They were distracted. The circus was in town!
As Krakatoa acted up again, several of the circus performers started to behave more strangely than usual. Elephant trainer, Nanette Lockhart began to fear for the safety of her pet. Advertized as the smallest trained elephant in world history, the animal was captured on Java and trained by her in only a few weeks. The entire circus troupe and the Batavian public, especially the children, adored him. All were captivated by the miniature beast juggling balls with his three foot trunk and adroitly negotiating obstacle courses.
After the fights began to break out and stress between factions in the troupe was high, Miss Lockhart, eccentrically, started to believe that the other performers might, for some reason, try to harm her elephant. She was afraid someone might break into his pen and feed him poison. There was no evidence, but she became more and more concerned.
Preemptively, Miss Lockhart decided the best thing to do was to move the little pachyderm into her room at the hotel. She did consider that management might not fully approve, but there were no signs posted, and she knew of no policy that strictly forbade it. She somehow got the animal into the room, settled him down for the night, locked the door so no one would bother him and headed out to dine with friends.
The elephant was unaccustomed to the luxury of the “East’s premier hotel.” Left alone without his mistress to keep him company, or perhaps because of the especially noticeable earth tremors emanating from Krakatoa that evening, the friendly little monster went berserk. He trampled, tossed and smashed the furniture to bits. He trumpeted and roared. He stomped his feet with such vigor that guests and Cressonnier were sure the entire hotel was about to collapse. The police were called, again. They were afraid to approach the raging beast. Miss Lockhart was located, hurried back to the hotel and ordered to remove her charge from the premises immediately.
Louis Cressonnier’s ire was steaming and smoking as intensely as the revived, pulsing volcano off to the west. Up most of the night, he’d come to the conclusion that he had to evict them all, no matter how much money he lost. He demanded that Mrs. Wilson make good for the damages and move all of her people and animals out, which she did. Repairs to the hotel and a thorough cleaning were under way when, on Monday, August 27, 1883, at 10:02 in the morning, Krakatoa, which had been groaning, puffing and shuddering for ninety-nine days, blew up in the largest, loudest explosion ever witnessed and blasted itself into oblivion.
There was a series of four huge explosions that almost destroyed the entire island. They were so loud and violent that they were heard 3,000 miles away on the island of Rodrigues near Mauritius. The pressure wave from the final explosion was recorded on barographs around the world for five days. Household mercury barometers were affected as far away as Scotland. The shock waves traveled around the globe seven times. The sound of the explosion was so loud that all people within ten miles of the blast were permanently deafened.
Pyroclastic flows, volcanic ash fall and tsunamis devastated the region. Though the official death toll was 36,417, some sources estimate that 120,000 is closer to accurate. Bodies and human skeletons on rafts of pumice floated ashore around the Indian Ocean for more than a year. The average global temperature dropped by 1.2 degrees Celsius in the year after the eruption. Weather patterns were chaotic for years and temperatures did not return to normal for five years.
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Top-level comments on this article: (6 total)Breathtaking non-fictional story. Very interesting though.thanks, Hilda, for reading and commentingJack, it should be semi-fictional story. My kind of story , like Gregory's.
The then Jayakarta could be the now Jakarta . Quite fit.Jayakarta was the name of the city at one point in it's history, as was Jakarta, and Batavia--all the same place, now capitol of Indonesia. I have no idea what the hotel owner was thinking or doing--so it is partly fictional.
another fine story. we should talk about this some time. Good stuffThanks Sean. Wife to airport this evening- miss ABville again.
Always interesting.thanks for reading and commenting.
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Jack,
Interesting side story on the eruption. As the largest tsunami was 140' high, many of the deaths in the region had to be from them.
Ronyes- true. Thanks for reading and commenting
Extraordinary, Jack; this reads like very imaginative fiction, hard to believe it was true. I can't believe somebody would stop a cannonball with his bare hands - or try to stop a grenade with his bare chest!
I like how you've woven the stories of the circus and Krakatao together. I didn't know anything about the latter until now, but you've whetted my appetite.
This is a really great piece, thanks.Thanks so much for reading and commenting
Finally, I read your Krakatoa article. Jack Schick at his best. You know how I love this stuff and the fine detail about the circus was fantastic. I guess you break the 2000 word rule, but you are the only one I would like to see break it. Thanks for your tremendous offering.Is there a 2000 word rule? I thought it was 2500, and break that too. It's one of 3 Krakatoa ones 7500+ words, I guess.
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