'mother-hubbards' or in short sarong skirt and loose white sack—the costume of the early part of the day.
The low eastern shore of Sumatra and its fringe of small outlying islands are in view most of the time, presenting an almost unbroken line of green—the dark dense green of tropical vegetation. The cocoanut palms afford the only clue to the native villages which are hidden away in groves of these graceful trees. An occasional light-house projects its white shaft skyward from a sand-spit or submerged reef, a grateful relief to the eye from the green which one comes to associate with this part of the world, where even the oranges are green.
About 80 miles south of Singapore we crossed 'the line' and lost our compass-needle, for there is no southern Polaris.
Our time at Batavia was consumed in attending to the transfer of the instruments to the Padang steamer. Owing to the nature of the expedition, and to prevent delays, the handling of the eclipse freight was personally supervised at every change. The officials of the steamship companies were always most courteous in making room for the observers and the instruments on steamers already full, and in meeting our requirements at all points. This was nowhere more true than in Java. For example, during the two full days that the steamer which had the eclipse freight on board was waiting at Tandjong Priok to coal and come to the pier—no one knowing just when these events were to happen—the dock officers and coolies were waiting the entire time, under instructions from the agents of the steamship company, in order to make the transfer at the earliest possible moment.
The steamer for Padang went through the Straits of Sunda, where in 1883 occurred the great outburst of Krakatoa. Soon after entering the Straits we had our first glimpse, just a needle-like point above the horizon, of the torn and shattered remains of the volcano. All about us were evidences of that fearful catastrophe. In front of us was 'Dwars-in-den-weg' (Right in the way), a single island prior to the eruption, but now a group of several islands.
Many stories are heard of this outburst. One, told by a fellow passenger on the 'Prinses Sophie,' a Dutchman who had visited the region a few weeks after the occurrence, concerned a miraculous escape. A trading-ship was lying in the harbor of Telok Betong at the southern end of Sumatra. This town is at the head of a long bay or gulf and is seventy miles or more from Krakatoa. On the morning of the disruption, the captain of the ship was visiting a native prince at his home among the hills. The prince, who had been observing the phenomena on Krakatoa, warned the captain that it would be unsafe to return to his ship and persuaded him to stay. A few hours later the tidal wave came up the bay and carried the ship inland more than
