ed from their source.

And yet, great as was the range of such vibrations, they could not be
compared with that of the air-wave caused by the mighty outburst. This
atmospheric wave started from Krakatoa at two minutes past ten on that
eventful Monday morning, moving onward in an ever-widening circle,
like that produced when a stone is thrown into smooth water. This
ring-like wave traveled on at the rate of from six hundred and
seventy-four to seven hundred and twenty-six miles an hour, and went
around the world four, if not even seven times, as evidenced by the
following facts: Batavia is nearly a hundred miles from the eruptive
focus under review. There was connected with its gas-holder the usual
pressure recorder. About thirteen minutes after the great outburst,
this gauge showed a barometric disturbance equal to about four-tenths
of an inch of mercury, that is, an extra air pressure of about a fifth
of a pound on every square inch. The effects on the air of minor
paroxysmal outbreaks are also recorded by this instrument; but
barometers in the most distant places record the same disturbance. The
great wave passed and repassed over the globe and no inhabitant was
conscious of the fact. Barometers in the principal cities of the world
automatically recorded this effect of the first great wave from
Krakatoa to its antipodes in Central America, and also the return
wave. The first four oscillations left their mark on upward of forty
barograms, the fifth and sixth on several, and at Kew, England, the
existence of a seventh was certainly established.

At the same time that this immense aerial undulation started on its
tour around the world, another wave but of awful destructiveness, a
seismic sea-wave, started on a similar journey. There can hardly be a
doubt that this so-called "tidal-wave" was synchronous with the
greatest of the explosions. A wave from fifty to seventy-two feet high
arose and swept with resistless fury upon the shores each side of the
straits. The destruction to life and property will probably never be
fully known. At least thirty-six thousand lives were lost; a great
part of the district of North Bantam was destroyed; and the towns of
Anjer, Merak, Tyringin, and neighboring villages were overwhelmed. A
man-of-war, the Berouw, was cast upon the shore of Sumatra nearly two
miles inland, and masses of coral from twenty to fifty tons in weight
were torn from the bed of the sea and swept upon the shore.

Th