INDIAN OCEAN
The Indian Ocean in 1853

The Sea Serpent sailed through the South China Sea
to the Sulu Sea and the Celebes Sea,
through the Strait of Makassar to the Java Sea,
then through the Sunda Strait to the Indian Ocean.


SULU SEA
On Sarah’s previous voyages
the Sea Serpent had first headed southwest,
but conditions required a southeast route this time.
It took them through what is now the Philippines.

It was a lovely route through the Sulu Sea where they passed many beautiful islands.

Busuanga

Mindoro

Mindanao

Basilan
September 17th
Our voyage homeward has been commenced much earlier this year and at a very unfavorable season, just between the two monsoons. Consequently, to make headway Williams has had to take a different route than that he has before taken since I have been with him. Instead of going to the southwest we have been going southeast to the eastward of Borneo. Today we have been sailing with very light winds in the Mindoro sea just north of the Sulu Sea. Until today we have had for three days land constantly in sight – islands not very large. We have passed very near them, so that with a glass you could see the leaves of the trees. Many of these islands have looked beautiful. The weather has been very fine, the water smooth and all have enjoyed this lovely sailing. The islands we have so close by passed were the Cuyos Islands.
Today we have also passed a number of islands but the most beautiful of all that I have seen was the island of Cagayanes. We passed it this afternoon, very, very slowly. How I longed to have a boat lowered and go ashore in her. The island was long, had a beach with a narrow strip of land back, then rose beautiful heights covered with grass and trees. Beyond these spread out a beautiful cultivated country with plenty of trees in the background beside others scattered here and there in clumps. The huts of the natives were to the sun along the shore and on the heights. Toward the northern end of the island along the shore were to be seen quantities of cocoanut trees. How I longed for some of the good nuts. I truly hope we shall be able to get some this year at Anyer. I long to taste a green cocoanut – hope I shall like it.
Yesterday and last night were spent in passing between the islands of Mindanao and Basilan. This morning we have just rounded the eastern end of Basilan and are entering the Celebes Sea. The weather is, and has been, delightfully fine. Wind very light. Last night was magnificent moonlight and all have deeply enjoyed this delightful sailing with beautiful shores on either side.
The Island of Basilan I have admired the most. It is very hilly and its outline is beautiful, picturesque and very fine. Some of the hills most graceful in their slope. Most particularly so that part of the island in view this morning; parts of the island, particularly the parts in view this morning, seem to be highly cultivated in some places to the tops of the hills – beautiful trees are scattered about in all directions. Some of the hills and the highest ones are entirely covered with trees. This diversity adds much to the picturesqueness of the landscape. There is scarce any wind this morning yet the air is delightfully cool and refreshing. The water is nearly as smooth as glass. How much I have longed for a row on shore the last twenty-four hours.
Yesterday we had a very fine view of the beautiful island of Mindanao. It is a very valuable island and parts highly cultivated. Sugar and tobacco are raised in large quantities. We passed very near this island and with the glass could see distinctly the houses and fortifications, built of stone, on shore. These last were really very extensive. The town looked quite large, the houses seemed all built of wood, were painted white and looked very large. The island, one of the Philippines, belongs to the Spaniards and quite a number reside on the island. The town looked lovely as we passed, situated close to the water with fine sloping hills rising in the background with beautifully cultivated lands on the sides. I longed to visit this town; to go in the houses and see how the inhabitants of these far distant lands live; what they do, how they enjoy life, how their houses are furnished, etc. Would that I could see and make myself acquainted with more of this beautiful world that I am so often passing round.
Yesterday afternoon a native boat put off from the Mindanao shore. We all thought she was coming to hail us but she passed close to our side without speaking and went on the way. The boat was small and very picturesque looking. About the middle it had one of these rounding bamboo cones so common to the Chinese boats. On either side she had three long arms extending out which touched the water as she rocked, slats of wood were fastened to these arm like locking affairs connecting them one with the other. “Their object”, Williams said, “was to prevent the boat from rolling over in rough weather.” This boat had one mast with a most singular looking little sail. She was also impelled forward by rowers. The oars, or whatever they may be called that were used, were singular looking affairs, had very short handles, just allowing the large round board at the end going in the water. This was their shape: o—-. One was used in front, one on either side, one at the stern. They watched us most earnestly in passing and we returned the compliment. There was one man, the gentleman of the affair, who attracted from us a good deal of attention. He stood most attentively watching us just in front of the bamboo covering He was dressed in long robes of yellow with a turban on his head. One or two of the rowers had turbans on their heads but generally they were uncovered; the inhabitants of these islands are Malays.
Mr. Taylor has made several very pretty sketches of these islands. I really feel a desire to follow his example. If I stay another voyage I will be prepared to do so if our route homeward should be the same. I have had long and pleasant conversations with all our passengers the last two or three days. I really have enjoyed them very much – Williams at present being too busy to attend to anything but his ship.
From A Visit to India, China and Japan in the Year 1853 by Bayard Taylor...
We were all well satisfied with the prospect of a cruise among
the Indian Isles, and therefore welcomed the Captain’s decision.
At sunset, on the 14th, we made land ahead, at a considerable
distance. As the passage required careful navigation, on account
of its abundant reefs, we stood off and on until the next morning.
Passing the North and North-west Rocks, the mountainous
island of Buswagon, or Camelianes, opened to the south
and east, its lofty hills, and deep, picturesque valleys clothed in
eternal green. The rocky islets which bristled between us and
its shores exhibited the most striking peculiarities of form and
structure. Some shot upwards like needles or obelisks from the dark-blue sea; others rose in heavy masses, like the turrets
or bastions of a fortress, crowned with tufts of shrubbery. The
rock of which they were formed was of a dark slate color, in
vertical strata, which appeared to have been violently broken
off at the top, bearing a strong resemblance to columnar basalt.
Buswagon stretched along, point beyond point, for a distance
of forty or fifty miles. The land rose with a long, gentle slope
from the beaches of white sand, and in the distance stood the
vapory peaks of high mountains. We sailed slowly along the
outer edge of the islets, to which the larger island made a
warm, rich background. The air was deliciously mild and pure,
the sea smooth as glass, and the sky as fair as if it had never
been darkened by a storm. Except the occasional gambols of
the bonitas, or the sparkle of a flying-fish as he leaped into the
sun, there was no sign of life on these beautiful waters.
Towards noon the gentle south-east breeze died away; and
we lay with motionless sails upon the gleaming sea. The sun
hung over the mast-head and poured down a warm tropical languor,
which seemed to melt the very marrow in one’s bones.
For four hours we lay becalmed, when a light ripple stole along
from the horizon, and we saw the footsteps of the welcome
breeze long before we felt it. Gradually increasing, it bore us
smoothly and noiselessly away from Buswagon and the rocky
towers and obelisks, and at sunset we saw the phantomlike hills
of the southern point of the island of Mindoro, forty miles
distant. The night was filled with the glory of the full moon
—a golden tropical radiance, nearly as lustrous, and far more
soft and balmy, than the light of day—a mystic, enamored
bridal of the sea and sky. The breeze was so gentle as to be
felt, and no more; the ship slid as silently through the water as if her keel were muffled in silk; and the sense of repose in
motion was so sweet, so grateful to my travel-wearied senses,
that I remained on deck until midnight, steeped in a bath of
pure indolent happiness.
Our voyage the next day was still more delightful. From
dawn until dark we went slowly loitering past the lovely islands
that gem those remote seas, until the last of them sank astern
in the flush of sunset. Nothing can be more beautiful than
their cones of never-fading verdure, draped to the very edge
of the waves, except where some retreating cove shows its
beach of snow-white sand. On the larger ones are woody valleys,
folded between the hills, and opening upon long slopes,
overgrown with the cocoa-palm, the mango, and many a strange
and beautiful tree of the tropics. The light, lazy clouds, suffused
with a crimson flush of heat, that floated slowly through
the upper heavens, cast shifting shadows upon the masses of
foliage, and deepened, here and there, the dark-purple hue of
the sea. Retreating behind one another until they grew dim
and soft as clouds on the horizon, and girdled by the most
tranquil of oceans, these islands were real embodiments of the
joyous fancy of Tennyson, in his dream of the Indies, in
“Locksley Hall.” Here, although the trader comes, and the
flags of the nations of far continents sometimes droop in the
motionless air—here are still the heavy-blossomed bowers and
the heavy-fruited trees, the summer isles of Eden in their purple
spheres of sea. The breeze fell nearly to a calm at noon
day, but our vessel still moved noiselessly southward, and island
after island faded from green to violet, and from violet to the
dim, pale blue that finally blends with the air.
The next day was most taken up with calms. The captain and mates spent much of their time in shifting the sails so as to
get the most of the faint wind-flaws that reached us, watching
for distant ripple-lines on the ocean, or whistling over the rail.
In the afternoon land was descried ahead—the Cagayanes
Islands, a little group in the middle of the Sooloo Sea. We
passed between them about four o’clock, and had a fair view
on either hand. The shores are smooth walls of perpendicular
rock, about a hundred feet in height, and almost completely
hidden under a curtain of rich vegetation. Here and there the
rock falls away, leaving little beaches of sand, behind which rise
thick forests of cocoa or palm. I could distinguish with the
glass half a dozen bamboo huts on the shore. A few boats
were drawn up on the beach. The islands looked so lovely as
we passed them, in the soft lustre of sunset, that I longed for
a day of calm, to go ashore where so few Europeans have ever
set foot, and have a glance at the primitive barbarism of the
natives. The sea still remained as smooth as a mountain lake.
We saw great quantities of drift-wood, upon which boobies and
cormorants perched in companies of two and three, and watched
for fish as they drifted lazily along. In the neighborhood of
the islands we frequently saw striped snakes, four or five feet
in length.
The lofty coast of Mindanao, one of the largest of the
Philippine Islands, was visible at sunrise, on the 19th. Before
long Basilan appeared in the south-east, and by noon we were
in the mouth of the strait. The observation gave Lat. 7°3′N.,
Long. 121° E. Two vessels were descried ahead, a ship and a
brig, both lying close in to Mindanao, and apparently becalmed.
In fact, we could easily trace a belt of calm water near the shore, caused by the high hills of the island, which prevented
the southern breeze from “blowing home.”
Four or five small islands—the commencement of the Soo
loo Archipelago—lie to the westward of Basilan. The strait
is from six to eight miles wide at its narrowest part, and tolerably
free from dangerous points. To the north, the hills of
Mindanao, completely mantled with forests, rise grandly to the
height of near two thousand feet. The shore presents an almost
impenetrable array of cocoa palms. There were two or three
cleared spaces on the hills, and as we entered further into the
strait, we could see with the glass not only some native huts,
but the houses of Spanish residents on the shore. Still further,
at the head of a little bight, and protected by a level
island of palms, we saw the Spanish settlement of Sambooangan.
There were several large two-story houses, and a white
chapel, before which lay half a dozen small craft at anchor.
A native proa put out from the shore, some distance ahead of
us, and we at first thought she was making for us with a load
of fruit. As she came nearer she hoisted a huge yellow flag,
with a red ornamental border, and some large red characters in
Chinese. There were six persons on board, and he who
appeared to be the leader wore a yellow robe. The boat had
an outrigger on each side, and was propelled by paddles and a
light canvas sail. She came near us, but to our disappointment
dropped astern and passed over to Basilan.
The latter island is remarkably picturesque in its appearance,
its long, wavy slopes of foliage shooting into tall conical
peaks. In passing through the strait, these piles of eternal
vegetation on either hand have an enchanting effect. I took
sketches of both islands, which preserved their outlines, but could not give the least idea of their richness and beauty. We
had a light westerly wind, with the tide in our favor, and just
as the moon arose like a globe of gold, passed the eastern mouth
of the strait and entered the Sea of Celebes.
CELEBES SEA & MAKASSAR STRAIT
The Sulu Sea brought them to the Celebes Sea,
but head winds and calms made it difficult
to pass through the Makassar Strait
into the Java Sea.



Sept 22nd: A fine cool day for these latitudes, being very near the Equator, which we shall probably pass today. We are now, and have been through the night, going with a pleasant light wind some five or six knots an hour.
Sept 25th: A very cloudy day with a good wind. This is a delightful change, having had a head wind ever since being in the Celebes Seas with but a few hours exception. If this wind continues we shall soon, in the course of two or three hours, enter the Makassar Strait. The small island of Haring is now in sight. I trust with all my heart that we shall continue to have favorable winds and soon leave Java Head behind us.
Sept 28th: Head winds and calms have been the order of the day, and in consequence we did not enter the Strait of Makassar till yesterday and at present there is no telling when we shall leave it and enter the Java Sea. Our course thus far has been equally distant from the Celebes and Borneo shores and we do not see either. This is quite an aggravation as I am most anxious to see both. I only wish Williams would run his ship in such a way as to give us a good peek at both and then if we could see some birds of Paradise flying over the Celebes shore that would be perfect.
Sept 30th: Our voyage proceeds at a dull pace, we are still in the Makassar Strait and there is no knowing how soon we shall bid farewell to it. Today we have just wind enough to say that the ship moves along. It is wretchedly tedious and then the weather is extremely hot. It makes one feel most dull and languid. Oh! How I tire at present of this weary monotonous life at sea. However, it will be different when we leave Java Head behind us and are sailing with a good trade wind through the Indian Ocean.
Oct 1st: Walked on deck with Mr. Taylor a half an hour before breakfast. When I first went up it was delightful, but the sun soon became very warm. However, we have a nice little breeze and it is cool and delightful in the Cabin, and what is more, the wind is a fair one. I most sincerely trust that tomorrow will find us in the Java Sea. I fear we shall hardly leave the Strait today unless we have good deal more wind than we have had for a long time.
Oct 2nd: Today has been a delightfully cool and pleasant one with a fine favorable wind. If it lasts we shall soon see the last of Java. Several small islands have been in sight, two not very near. The outline of one indeed two of them was bold and very fine.
From A Visit to India, China and Japan in the Year 1853 by Bayard Taylor...
We now experienced a succession of calms and baffling
winds for five days, as we stood south by west across the Sea of
Celebes, making for the Straits of Macassar. There was an
occasional squall of an hour or two, which gave us a “slant” in
the right direction. The wind at last shifted, so that we were
able to run upon our course close-hauled, and on the afternoon
of the 25th we caught a distant and misty view of the Haring
Islands. The next morning at sunrise, we saw the lofty headland
of Point Kaneoongan, in Borneo, at the western entrance
of the straits. Cape Donda, in Celebes, thirty miles distant, appeared
for a short time, but was soon hidden by showers. On
the 27th, at noon, we were in 0° 5′ S., having crossed the
Equator about 11 A. M., and thenceforth, for four days, we
slowly loitered along through the Straits of Macassar, with
light, variable winds, and seasons of dead, sultry calm. The
mercury stood at 88° in the coolest part of the ship. The sea
was as smooth as a mirror, and as glossy and oily in its dark
blue gleam, as if the neighboring shores of Macassar had
poured upon it libations of their far-famed unguent. Occasonally
we saw the shores of Celebes, but so distant and dim
that it was rather like a dream of land than land itself. We
walked the deck languidly, morning and evening, sat under the
the awning by day, alternately dozing and smoking and reading,
watched the drift-wood floating by—mangrove logs, with
companies of sea-fowl making their fishing excursions—ate for occupation, and slept with difficulty: and thus the days
passed.
On the 2d of October a light south wind reached us, and
we left the dim, far-off headlands of Celebes—the land of sandalwood
groves and birds of Paradise. We made the twin
rocks called “The Brothers,” off the southern point of Borneo,
and about noon passed between the islands of Moresses and
Little Pulo Laut. The latter are noble piles of verdure,
rising a thousand feet from the water, in long undulating outlines.
JAVA SEA & SUNDA STRAIT
The Sunda Strait passes through the Indonesian islands of Java and Sumatra.
It connects the Java Sea with the Indian Ocean.

The Sea Serpent crossed the Java Sea and entered the Sunda Strait
where they anchored off of Anyer.
Boats came to meet them bringing fruit, chickens, eggs and vegetables.
They also took on some monkeys, birds and a bundle of bamboo canes!

Mangosteen
Sarah and Bayard describe the Mangosteen...
Sarah: This morning I ate, for the first time, the mangosteen. I had heard much of its lusciousness and was not at all disappointed. It is really a most delicious and refreshing fruit, cool and juicy. It is about the size of a China orange with a thick hard rind of purplish color. The fruit itself is perfectly white and divided into five or six parts. Some much larger than others. I gave Willie some of the fruit. He said “Mama, I think it is delightful.”
Bayard: The mangosteens
were mostly rotten, but the few fresh ones which we
picked out were enough to convince me that its fame as the
most exquisite of all fruits had not been overrated. The very
look of the snow-white pulp, softly imbedded in its thick, juicy,
crimson husk, is refreshing; and its melting coolness and sweetness,
relieved by the faintest mixture of a delicious acid flavor,
makes it the very nectar and ambrosia of the vegetable world.
Certainly no other fruit is comparable to it in flavor and lusciousness.




October 8th
Have had quite an exciting day, having arrived early this morning off Anyer. Have had many of the natives in their boats to visit us and taken quite a fresh supply of eatables on board. We had quite a fine view of the town. The appearance was very pleasant as we saw it from the water – directly on the landing place is a Banyan tree. The foliage was very thick and of a very green color. It looked like a large tree, but was small for a Banyan. I could not see whether any of the branches had dropped and taken root. Of coconut and banana trees there were any quantity. As the town passed from our sight we had a good view of the lighthouse, a square building, the roof terminating in a pointed peak on top of which was the place for the lantern. It looked like a high square box and was painted black. The sloping roof extended some distance beyond the walls of the house and formed the covering to a piazza that surrounded the building. Mr. Taylor said that it looked like an India bungalow.
This morning I ate, for the first time, the mangosteen. I had heard much of its lusciousness and was not at all disappointed. It is really a most delicious and refreshing fruit, cool and juicy. It is about the size of a China orange with a thick hard rind of purplish color. The fruit itself is perfectly white and divided into five or six parts. Some much larger than others. I gave Willie some of the fruit. He said “Mama, I think it is delightful.” Williams and the other gentlemen sent off for a large number of cocoanuts – 120. Only four were sent. I know not why. It was a great disappointment to us all. However, I shall, I hope, now taste a green cocoanut; as yet have never done so. Could not get them here last year and could not get them at the Sandwich Islands. We have, however, plenty of bananas and quite a supply of pineapples, besides chickens, fresh eggs and vegetables. Three monkeys were also taken on board and a variety of birds. One of the men promised to bring me a basket of handsome shells, but they made not their appearance. Williams got a bundle of beautiful bamboo canes, finely polished, some six feet long I should think.
I arose at sunrise on the morning of the 8th of October, in
time to see the Sea Serpent enter the Straits of Sunda. On
our left, five or six miles distant, arose the lofty headland of
Point St. Nicholas; in front was the rock called “The Cap,”
and the island of “Thwart-the-Way,” while the mountains
of Sumatra were barely visible far to the west. We were
scarcely abreast of the headland when two native prahus, or
boats, were seen coming off to us, the boatmen laboring at their
sweeps with a sharp, quick cry, peculiar to semi-barbarous
people. One of the boats was soon alongside, with a cargo of
yams, plantains and fowls, with such fancy articles as shells,
monkeys, parroquets and Java sparrows. The captain and
crew were Malays, and nearly all spoke English more or less
fluently. The former had an account-book, showing his dealings with ships, and a printed register from the Dutch Government,
containing notices of the vessels called upon in the straits.
We were gratified to find that we had not been beaten, the
shortest passage from Whampoa, previous to our own, being
thirty days.
The second boat soon arrived, and between the two Capt.
Howland managed to procure about fifteen ewt. of yams, with
abundant supplies of potatoes, fowls, and paddy. The fruits
they brought off were plantains, cocoa-nuts, ripe and green, and
a few mangosteens, which were then going out of season. The
latter were mostly rotten, but the few fresh ones which we
picked out were enough to convince me that its fame as the
most exquisite of all fruits had not been overrated. The very
look of the snow-white pulp, softly imbedded in its thick, juicy,
crimson husk, is refreshing; and its melting coolness and sweetness,
relieved by the faintest mixture of a delicious acid flavor,
makes it the very nectar and ambrosia of the vegetable world.
Certainly no other fruit is comparable to it in flavor and lusciousness.
While the boat went back to Angier for fresh supplies of
paddy and other necessaries—an arrangement which deprived
us of all chance of landing there—we slowly drifted down the
straits with the tide, past Cap Rock and towards “Thwart-the
Way”. I was charmed with the beauty of the Javanese shore.
Low hills, completely covered with foliage, rose from the water,
with ascending upland slopes beyond, and groups of lofty mountains
in the background. In the almost interminable wealth
of tropical vegetation which covered the land, the feathery
cocoa-palm and the massive foliage of the banyan could be
plainly recognized. Passing the picturesque headlands and leafy wildernesses of “Thwart-the-Way,” we lay to off Angier,
waiting for the boat. We were nearly two miles from shore,
but the scattered Malay village, the big banyan-tree, the
Dutch fort, and the light-house, with its tiled roof, were all
distinctly visible. The lofty promontory of Rajah Bassa, on
the Sumatra side, loomed in the distance. The wind was blowing
fresh from the south, and favorable for us, but we were
obliged to lay to nearly an hour for our supplies, surrounded
in the mean time with small boats, from which we purchased
fish, shells, parroquets and Java sparrows. At last, all the
fresh stores were shipped, and we ran off before a spanking
breeze. Point St. Nicholas, Button Rock, Angier and “Thwart
the-Way” soon disappeared, and the superb conical peak of the
island of Crockatoa rose on our lee bow. We saw Prince’s
island at dusk, on the weather bow, and entered the Indian
Ocean before the twilight had wholly faded—having made the
passage through the straits under unusually favorable auspices.
INDONESIA: Volcanoes
The Sunda Strait has numerous islands, many of which are volcanic.
The most famous volcano is Krakatoa, which exploded in 1883
in one of the deadliest and most destructive eruptions in history.
Intense pumice fall and huge tsunamis devastated the area
and drastically altered the strait.


ANYER
The town of Anyer was a major port in the 1800s.
It was totally destroyed by a 100-foot tsunami caused by the Krakatoa eruption.

Sarah mentions the lighthouse at Anyer, which was built in 1806.
It marked the starting point of the Great Dutch Road,
a 620-mile postal road from Anyer to Panaruken.
When Anyer was devastated in 1883,
the lighthouse was rebuilt by the Dutch 2 years later.
It stands as a memorial to those who died in the tsunami.
October 8th
As the town passed from our sight we had a good view of the lighthouse, a square building, the roof terminating in a pointed peak on top of which was the place for the lantern. It looked like a high square box and was painted black. The sloping roof extended some distance beyond the walls of the house and formed the covering to a piazza that surrounded the building. Mr. Taylor said that it looked like an India bungalow.

Other Effects of Krakatoa
The 1883 Krakatoa eruption darkened the sky worldwide for years afterwards.
It also produced spectacular sunsets throughout the world for many months.
The ash caused “such vivid red sunsets that fire engines were called out
in New York, Poughkeepsie, and New Haven to quench the apparent conflagration.”
This eruption also produced a Bishop’s Ring around the sun by day,
and a volcanic purple light at twilight.
Some think that the red sky shown in Edvard Munch’s 1893 painting The Scream
could be an accurate depiction of the sky over Norway after the eruption.

INDONESIA: Earthquakes
Indonesia has a deadly and unlucky history with earthquakes.
It is located at the meeting point of three major continental plates –
the Pacific, the Eurasian and the Indo-Australian plates,
as well as the smaller Philippine Plate.
It also falls on the “Ring of Fire”,
a horseshoe-shaped area around the edges of the Pacific Ocean,
from Australia to the Andes,
along which 90% of all earthquakes occur.

On October 10th, 1853 at 11PM
the passengers on the Sea Serpent described an earthquake at sea.
October 11th
Last evening at 11 o’clock I was sitting on the settee in our small Cabin all ready for bed. Williams had stepped into a room when suddenly I felt thump as if we were touching the bottom. Williams instantly hastened upstairs and I was left in my alarm. I thought not of an earthquake as we were several hundred miles from land. I fairly knew not what to think; thought of islands rising in the sea; did not know but one might be near the surface here. I went to my room, put on one or two garments and was then hastening upstairs. The thumping continuing as strong as ever. I fairly trembled as I walked. I met the steward coming down. He told me that the Captain said it was an earthquake. I felt relieved indeed. Williams and Mr. Contee then came down. Mr. Contee also hastened from his bed on deck, he said while in his room, he heard a hissing noise that accompanied the shaking. This earthquake is a singular and fearful feeling. I hope I may never feel one on shore. One of our friends at Valparaiso was very anxious that I should feel one and really wished that they might have a pretty good shock for my peculiar benefit but I told him that I had no desire and did not wish to lose my confidence in mother earth. Poor man, I heard that he was terribly frightened by this one we had just escaped. I met two ladies at Valparaiso, mother and daughter, who had already been in the midst of two terrible earthquakes; the one at Concepcion. I forget the other. They said that instead of becoming accustomed to such things, they dreaded them more and more – even every slight shake. And this they said was the feeling of almost everyone and that the natives were dreadfully terrified even at the slightest shake. Mrs. Smith, the daughter, said that she never went to bed at night without seeing each of her children had shoes and gown close to the bed, all ready to put on. How terrible to live with such a constant dread hanging over one.
From A Visit to China, India and Japan in the Year 1853 by Bayard Taylor...
On Monday evening, the 10th of October, an unusual incident
happened to us. The night was clear, and cooler than
usual, with a light breeze, not more than three knots at most,
and the same heavy swell which we had had for two days previous.
I was walking the quarter-deck with Mr. Cornell, the
second mate, about a quarter past eleven o’clock, when the ship
suddenly stopped, and shook so violently from stem to stern that
every timber vibrated. This motion was accompanied by a dull
rumbling, or rather humming noise, which seemed to come from
under the stern. We were at first completely puzzled and
bewildered by this unexpected circumstance, but a moment’s
reflection convinced us that it proceeded from an earthquake.
Capt. Howland and Mr. Contee came on deck just in time to
feel a second shock, nearly as violent as the first. Those who
were below heard a strong hissing noise at the vessel’s side.
There did not appear to be any unusual agitation of the water,
notwithstanding the vessel was so violently shaken. The
length of time which elapsed, from first to last, was about a
minute and a half. The breeze fell immediately afterwards,
and we had barely steerage way until morning.
On December 26, 2004
a devastating 9.1-magnitude underwater earthquake
struck off the coast of Sumatra and
triggered a tsunami that killed 220,000 people,
including around 170,000 in Indonesia.
The 100-foot wall of water
devastated the coastline of nine countries on the Indian Ocean
and thousands of communities were left in ruins.
It was one of the deadliest natural disasters in recorded history.


SUNSETS AT SEA
Sarah and Bayard Taylor both describe a magnificent sunset
on October 11th, 1853.

October 11th
Last evening we had a magnificent sunset. I never saw one like it. Mr. Contee and myself were the first to notice its fast growing beauties. Soon we had our whole party joining us and I believe each thought they had never seen anything finer – perhaps not so fine. Would that I could describe it and so, at a future day, vividly bring it back to my remembrance, but I will make an effort, that may perhaps keep it somewhat in my remembrance.
Along the horizon were grouped those peculiar tropical clouds only in this instance they were very dark – as the sunset deepened they became adorned in all sorts of fashions with the richest golden crimson and flame colors and then above there was such a beautiful mingling of gray, pink, and blue ending off on every side with an exquisite purple. But, as we gazed, the pink seemed to condense into narrow sorts of shafts just above the dark clouds of the horizon and in a moment they shot up toward the zenith. They spread wide and high and the color constantly was deepening till we could call it pink no longer. So rare and exquisite was the color; between these two deep, glorious magnificent rays was comparatively a narrow belt of deep perfect blue. The reflection of this on the water was most singular and beautiful. There was the perfect reflection of those two magnificent glowing rays with the deeply blue separating belt. As my eyes wandered from one part of the beautiful scene I soon detected far off to the side another glowing spot sending forth its exquisitely shaded ray, this was long and narrow. The color of the ray next to the narrow one was the most glowing, peculiar and beautiful of them and my beautiful Venus graced the outer edge of it towards the upper part of the next one. Then more directly opposite ourselves was a cloud having the appearance of a beautiful gray dove, every part perfectly formed. Its wings outstretched above and below one wing was seen a delicate cloud having the appearance of a bough fro the tree. It was the dove with the olive branch; the only difference mine held his branch with his claw; Noah’s in its mouth.
As I write I fancy with my mind’s eye the whole scene. Trust I shall be able whenever my eye happens to glance over his page. Sunsets are so apt to serve in like those tormenting dreams that we long and seem to be about to recall but alas they are so vague that they ever elude our grasp.
From A Visit to China, India and Japan in the Year 1853 by Bayard Taylor...
The sunset on the following day was one of the most superb
I ever saw. The sky was divided into alternate bands of pure
blue and brilliant rose-color, streaming upwards and outwards from the sun, without any interfusion or blending of their hues.
At the horizon the blue became amber-green, and then gold,
and the rose-tint a burning crimson. A mountainous line of
heavy purple clouds formed a foreground along the horizon,
behind which the rayed sky shone with indescribable splendor,
doubling its gorgeous hues on the glassy surface of the sea.
INDIAN OCEAN
The rest of the voyage through the Indian Ocean
seemed to have had good winds and fair skies.
Bayard Taylor wrote this description in his book
“A Visit to India, China and Japan in the Year 1853”:
