Cold Open

It’s just after 1 PM, on August 26th, 1883, in Java, an island in Southeast Asia.

38-year-old Dutch geologist Rogier Verbeek peers through a microscope, carefully scraping at a fragment of obsidian. The glassy rock glints under the lens—rigid, dark, and so precisely structured, it seems almost artificial. It’s hard to believe something so orderly was formed in such a chaotic environment as an erupting volcano.

 Rogier gets up and walks to the window. From his high vantage point on Java, he can see the smaller island where he collected the sample: Krakatoa. 25 miles offshore, Krakatoa is a volcanic island, and for the past three months, its peak has spewed out ash and smoke into the sky. Rogier is convinced it’s just the beginning of a huge eruption.

And his instincts are right. As he turns back to his desk, an ear-piercing explosion rocks the building.

Windows shake, the floor trembles, and Rogier instinctively shields his face. When he pulls his fingers away from his eyes, the sky is noticeably darker, and a massive plume of smoke is billowing from Krakatoa. It stretches across the sky like a growing stain, blotting out the sun. Rogier knows instantly what’s happened—the volcano has blown its top. And now, the real eruption has begun.

Rogier Verbeek will do his best to warn the people of Java of the impending disaster. But nothing can prepare them for the unprecedented scale of the crisis that is to come—because Krakatoa’s final, cataclysmic blast will be one of the most violent natural disasters in recorded history, and there’ll be little anyone can do to save the thousands of lives that will be lost after the volcano explodes on August 26th, 1883.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is August 26th, 1883: The Eruption of Krakatoa.

Act One: Rocks Around The Clock

It’s July 1880 on the shores of Krakatoa, three years before the volcano’s eruption.

35-year-old Rogier Verbeek hops off a fishing boat into the shallow surf and wades through the water until he reaches the beach. Behind him, several other men disembark from the boat, hauling bags of tools over their shoulders as they trudge up onto the dark sand. Their task is straightforward: inspect and repair a nearby lighthouse. But Rogier isn’t here to fix anything. As an expert surveyor and geologist, he’s been sent by the Dutch colonial government to map the island.

The Netherlands first sent colonists to this region in the early 1600s. Almost 300 years later, the Dutch are the dominant power here, but many of the smaller islands around Java are still largely unexplored by them. That’s where Rogier comes in. It’s his job to assess the islands for natural resources that the colonial government might exploit.

And looking around, Rogier notices that Krakatoa clearly teems with life. The beach hums with noisy insects, and the island’s slopes are carpeted with lush, green vegetation.

But none of that interests Rogier. He’s been looking forward to surveying Krakatoa because of its volcano.

From the dark sandy beach, the land rises quickly toward a tall, conical peak. The volcano towers more than 2,500 feet above sea level. And though it's erupted often in past centuries, it’s been quiet for decades. Some even believe that the volcano is extinct and will never erupt again. But Rogier still wanted to see it for himself.

And as he looks around, he spots something glinting at his feet. It’s black obsidian. The rock has a pearly, iridescent shine. He takes out a small hammer and chips away the surface. He then holds a fragment up, fascinated by the sunlight glistening on it. For a geologist, this island is a rare opportunity to explore a pristine volcanic landscape, untouched by human habitation.

So with a charcoal pencil and notebook that he brought, Rogier begins to sketch the scene. Soon, he is fully engrossed in his work. For hours, he makes maps and takes thorough notes, collecting as many samples as he can carry, too. But by late afternoon, the work crew has finished their inspection of the lighthouse, and they’re ready to return to the mainland. They call out to Rogier, telling him to hurry up or they’ll leave him behind.

So reluctantly, he gathers his gear and returns to the beach. As the boat drifts away from the shore, Rogier looks back at the volcano, wondering if he’ll ever witness its true power for himself.

Three years later, in May 1883, Krakatoa wakes from its slumber, and smoke begins rising from the crater at its summit. Some days it's as white and wispy as a cloud. At other times, it’s as thick and dark as charcoal. But to Rogier’s frustration, he’s not there to see this new burst of activity. When he hears about it, he’s almost 500 miles away on an expedition in Sumatra. All he can do is wait and hope that the eruption is still going when he returns.

And after two months of nervous waiting, Rogier sails back to Java and is relieved to see smoke still pouring from Krakatoa. Eager to land on the island and collect more samples, Rogier begs his ship’s captain to alter course and take him directly to the volcano. But the captain fears for the safety of his ship and crew, and refuses. No one else will take Rogier there either, so all he can do is make distant observations from his home on Java.

But one man does land on Krakatoa to take a closer look. On August 11th, 1883, Dutch army officer Captain Ferzenaar is sent to Krakatoa to conduct a topographical survey. Navigating through the haze that hangs over the sea around the island, Ferzenaar makes landfall and scales the peak. On the steep hillside, he finds fourteen vents, each spewing pink and gray smoke. Thick lava bubbles up through the cracks, too, and the heat underfoot is intense.

Captain Ferzenaar quickly records the locations of each vent, but Krakatoa is clearly now an unstable and dangerous place. He cuts his mission short and warns that no one else should return to the island until the eruption is over.

So, Captain Ferzenaar will be the last to step foot on Krakatoa before it detonates in a gigantic explosion that will blacken the sky and take most of the island with it.

Act Two: The Loudest Sound Ever Heard

It’s just after 1 PM, on August 26th, 1883, in the Sunda Strait near Krakatoa, two weeks after a Dutch army captain surveyed the active volcano.

Merchant captain W.J. Watson races across the deck of his cargo ship, shouting orders to his terrified crew. A hot and jagged rock crashes onto the deck near his feet, and he ducks instinctively. All around him, sailors scramble for cover, too, shielding themselves as if under artillery fire. But there is no enemy. The projectiles are coming from the sky, blasted out from nearby Krakatoa.

As the falling rocks rip holes in the sails, Captain Watson cranes his neck, staring up at Krakatoa’s peak. Smoke blankets the horizon, and thunder roars overhead.

Captain Watson’s journey from Ireland to Hong Kong was supposed to be a routine voyage—and up to now, it’s been an uneventful. The currents have been kind, and the winds have mostly been on their side. But everything changed as they neared the Sunda Strait near Java. The column of smoke rising from Krakatoa set the crew on edge. And when they came within ten miles of the island, the eruption suddenly intensified. Rocks began pelting the ship like a barrage of volcanic hail. Now, all Captain Watson and his men can do is hold fast and pray they survive.

As another rock shatters on the deck, a deafening roar forces the captain to cover his ears. He looks toward Krakatoa’s summit, but it has disappeared in a cloud of ash. Soon, the billowing dust rolls across the waves and swallows up the ship too, plunging it into an eerie, stifling twilight.

Rocks continue to fall all afternoon, and flashes of lightning sporadically light the clouds, giving Captain Watson just enough visibility to steer away from the worst of the danger. By dawn the next day, the exhausted crew has managed to put 30 miles between their ship and Krakatoa. And the near-constant rumbling of the volcano finally quietens, allowing Captain Watson to begin to relax.

But the peace doesn’t last. A new explosion splits the air—and this one triggers an enormous wave. The ship surges forward, lifted from behind by a wall of water. The crew desperately grips the rigging as the vessel crests the wave, then crashes back down, teetering in the chaotic swell.

Captain Watson and his crew check for damage. But miraculously, the ship has escaped intact. But the latest explosion darkens the sky once again, and a new storm of rocks and ash rains down on them, coating every surface on the ship. Soon, the layer of debris is so thick that the ship begins to ride lower in the water. Frantic, Captain Watson orders his crew to sweep the decks—otherwise they could sink under the weight.

Finally, the ship reaches the safety of dock at Java. Exhausted and shaken, Captain Watson details his harrowing journey to local officials. But he’s not the only one with a tale to tell. Other ships were in the vicinity when Krakatoa exploded, and their crews have their own chilling accounts. Sailors tell of gigantic tsunamis and an enormous explosion that made their ears bleed.

The Dutch colonial authorities quickly set up a rescue effort. Ships are dispatched to check on ports and fishing villages along the coast—but they return with grim news. The tidal waves have smashed entire communities.

And nowhere is the devastation worse than in the Sumatran port town of Anjer. Rescuers have to fight through wreckage just to find the harbor, and when they finally do drop anchor, the scene is bleak: the once-bustling port and telegraph station is gone. Buildings have been leveled, boats destroyed. Almost no one is left alive. The death toll in Anjer alone is estimated at 30,000. Rescuers can do little more than bury the dead and return home with the terrible news.

But it’s not until the ash clouds over Krakatoa finally clear that the most staggering sight of all is revealed. The island itself is almost entirely gone—blown apart by its own fury. Only a small, jagged remnant of the once towering volcano still stands above the waves.

But even still, Krakatoa is not finished. In time, a new volcano will rise from the sea, born on the very spot where the original once stood—and this one will also prove to be a killer.

Act Three: Signs of Life

It’s October 11th, 1883, on Krakatoa, just six weeks after the eruption.

Dutch scientist Rogier Verbeek steps off a small landing barge and onto a slab black volcanic rock that juts out above the sea. The moment his boots touch the surface, he feels intense heat radiating through his thick soles. And within moments, they begin to warp and melt. He keeps moving, stepping quickly along the shoreline to avoid scorching his feet.

Rogier has finally returned to Krakatoa. But the island he once knew is unrecognizable. Its mountain peak is gone, and most of the rest of the island has collapsed into the sea. All that’s left is a shallow hill barely rising above the waves.

Rogier takes out his geologist’s tools and gets to work. Many of the rocks are still too hot to touch, and he has to kick them into the surf to cool them before he can pick them up. He maps the island’s new contours and features as accurately as he can. But then, something stops him in his tracks. Amid the scorched earth and twisted rock, he spots a flicker of green. Tiny shoots of new vegetation are already forcing their way through the ash. Against all odds, life is beginning to return.

Two years later, in 1885, Rogier publishes his report on the eruption of Krakatoa and its aftermath. Spanning more than 550 pages, it's one of the most thorough scientific investigations of its time. And in the decades that follow, many experts will look back on Rogier’s work as the beginning of a new science: volcanology—the study of volcanoes.

Although Krakatoa was wiped out by its own explosion, those who follow in Rogier Verbeek’s footsteps will be kept busy. A new volcano will rise from the sea near the site of the old one. It will be named Anak Krakatoa, or the Child of Krakatoa. It’ll grow fast, too, gaining around ten yards in height every year, until it too erupts in 2018, claiming another 437 lives.

Still, that devastation will pale in comparison to the eruption of its parent. Today, scientists believe that the 1883 explosion was heard by ten percent of the Earth’s population, including residents of Perth, Australia, more than 2,000 miles away. It was one of the worst natural disasters in recorded history. And although exact numbers have never been established, it’s estimated that up to 120,000 people died in the eruption of Krakatoa, the final phase of which began on August 26th, 1883.

Outro

Next on History Daily. August 27th, 1979. At the height of the Troubles in Northern Ireland, the Irish Republican Army assassinates a member of the British royal family.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Supervising Sound Designer Matthew Filler.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Owen Paul Nicholls.

Edited by Scott Reeves.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.