Capt. Johan Lindeman

Capt. Johan Lindeman piloted the ship Governor General Loudon through the Sunda Strait as Krakatoa erupted in 1883. The ship, operated by the Netherlands Indies Steamship Company as a mail steamer and excursion vessel, was based at Batavia.

This account from the captain begins after the ship docked at Anjer at 2 p.m. on Aug. 26, headed for Telok Betong. A few quotes in the summary of events have been taken from accounts written by a member of the ship’s crew and a passenger.

Summary of Events

Sunday, Aug. 26

• The Loudon takes passengers on board at Anjer. The ship leaves at 2:45 p.m. At the same time, Krakatoa is "casting forth enormous columns of smoke."
• At 6 p.m., the ship endures heavy falls of ash and pumice, and the wind starts to pick up.
• At 7 p.m., the ship struggles up the coast past Krakatoa, making its way toward Telok Betong. The Loudon approaches the bay and anchors up.
• Later that night, lightning strikes the main mast conductor six or seven times, and "the mud rain, which covered the masts, rigging and decks, was phosphorescent and on the rigging presented the appearance of St. Elmo's fire."
• The native crew tries to put out the flames with their bare hands, pleading with the Europeans, convinced it was the work of evil spirits, and a harbinger of the ship being wrecked.
• Lindeman orders fire hoses set up and ready on deck, "since there was every chance that the ship might catch fire. It is most amazing that this did not happen."
• At midnight, Lindeman sends several signals to shore requesting a sloop to land the passengers bound for Telok Betong. When no sloop comes, Lindeman sends the first mate in a small boat to find out what's happening.
• The first mate returns an hour later saying it's impossible to land because of the heavy current and surf, and that the pier head is standing partly underwater. A boat that had tried to put off from shore has already been wrecked — the sloop the Loudon was expecting.
• The captain hears other ships' bells ringing and is concerned about a collision, so he sails blind to get away from the bells.

Monday, Aug. 27

• 7 a.m. — Tsunami: "Suddenly, a tremendous wave came moving in from the sea, which literally blocked the view and moved with tremendous speed. The Loudon steamed forward in such a way that she headed straight into the wave."
• Lindeman watches as a crowd of Europeans gathered on the pier at Telok Betong is swept away. The signal beacon is gone, and the ship Berouw lies "high upon the shore among the cocoa-nut trees."
• At 10:30 a.m., Lindeman anchors in the bay because the ash rain is getting thicker and thicker. Pumice stone is also coming down. Eventually total darkness envelops the ship.
• Suddenly, the ship is beset by hurricane-force winds. Lindeman lets down both anchors and "kept the screw turning slowly at half speed in order to ride over the terribly high seas."
• The main awnings and boat covers are blown away in the winds. Objects come loose and are tossed violently across the ship and overboard, narrowly missing passengers.
• The crew suffers because of conditions on deck — "a dense rain of mud fell, which was especially bothersome to the crew whose eyes, ears and noses were liberally filled with a material which made breathing difficult. Breathing, however, was not only made difficult by the mud, ash and pumice, but the atmosphere itself had also changed. The devilish smell of sulphurous acid spread. Some felt buzzing in the ears, others felt a pressing on the chest and sleepiness. It would have been quite natural if we had all choked to death."
• Lindeman rallies, organizing sick people to be tended to, and replacement crew to help on deck.
• Pumice and ash turn to heavy ashfall, so that in the space of 10 minutes the mud lies half a foot deep. Several passengers work to clear the mud and pumice on deck (now to a depth of 2 feet), which would otherwise have sunk the ship. The people "worked with the energy of despair, in spite of the twofold danger of being burnt and stunned by the hot falling stones. While we were engaged in this struggle, and engulfed in the sheer blackness of a veritable hell, a new and terrible danger came upon us."
• Another tsunami — the biggest one — hits the ship. "The wave made the ship tumble like a seesaw. Sometimes she was almost straight on end, at other times she almost went over on her beam-ends. All the passengers and crew gave themselves up for lost. The captain handled himself splendidly throughout. Well, you can fancy what it was like when I tell you that the captain was lashed with three ropes along the engine room companionway [at the wheel], while I was lashed down below to work the engines." All other crew were dashed from one side of the engine room to the other.
• At noon, the wind dies entirely. "After each sea tremor, an amazing stillness and calmness of the sea existed, and the muddy rain stopped temporarily. This calm was even more disquietening than the hurricane."
• Lindeman stops the engines and darkness remains — so does the mud rain.
• At 2 p.m., the mud rain changes to light ash rain, and the Loudon begins making its way toward Anjer.

Tuesday, Aug. 28

• There is complete darkness until 4 a.m.
• At 6:30 a.m., the Loudon gets under steam. As she starts to move, she falls in with "much ash and driftwood." Fighting their way through sea that looks "exceedingly like solid ground," the crew dips a bucket into the sea to get a sense of the depth of the debris. Despite letting the bucket down to its maximum depth of 20 feet, it still comes up full of pumice.

At Anjer we took on board 111 passengers, coolies and women bound for Sigogha, and left Anjer roadstead again at 2:45 p.m., and taking out our bearings from the land we ran past Pulo Soengjan, or Right in the Fairway Island, past Hog Point and Lampong Bay, and then discovered that the island of Krakatau was casting forth enormous columns of smoke.

At 5 p.m., Pulo Tiga Island lay about half a mile to the west of us. Were steering then NW1/4N (time bearing).

At 6:15 p.m., the southernmost of the Chandon Islands was bearing NE.

Laid the course next for the roadstead of Telok Betung, which we reached at 7:30 p.m., and where we anchored in 6 fathoms of water with 30 fathoms' shackle outside the hawse-pipe.

From 6 o' clock we had rain of ashes and small bits of stone, and there was a stiff breeze from the NW and WNW.

Lindeman added later about that night, "The lightning struck the main mast conductor five or six times."

Also, "The mud rain, which covered the masts, rigging and decks, was phosphorescent and on the rigging presented the appearance of St. Elmo's fire. The native crew engaged themselves busily in putting this phosphorescent light out with their hands, and were so intent on this occupation that the stokers left the engine rooms for the purpose, so that the European engineers were left to drive the machinery for themselves. The natives pleaded that if this phosphorescent light, or any portion of it, found its way below, a hole would be burnt in the ship; not that they feared the ship taking fire, but they thought the light was the work of evil spirits, and that if the ill-omen light found its way below, the evil spirits would triumph in their design to scuttle the ship."

Finding that at midnight on the evening of our arrival there was still no boat come off to us from the shore, and as the weather was now much calmer, I sent the first mate in the gig with a crew of six men to find out what was the reason of this. At about 1 a.m. he returned and stated that it had been impossible to land on account of the heavy current and surf; also that the harbor pier head stood partly underwater.

The government steamer Berouw, which lay anchored near the pier head, hailed the mate as he was returning on board, and the people on board her then stated to him that it was impossible to land anywhere, and that a boat which had put off from the shore had already been wrecked. That by 6 p.m. on Sunday evening it had already begun to be stormy, and that the stormy weather had been accompanied by a current which swept round and round (apparently a sort of whirlpool).

When the mate had come on board, we resolved to await daylight before taking any further steps; however, for the sake of security, we steamed several ships' lengths outward, because the sound of a ship’s bell, which seemed to be approaching us, made us suspect that the ship must be adrift, and wishing therefore to avoid a collision we re-anchored in 9 fathoms with 30 fathoms'shackle outside the hawse-pipe.

We kept the ordinary sea watch, and afterward heard nothing more of the bell. When day broke, it appeared to us to be still a matter of danger to send a boat ashore; and we also discovered that a revenue cutter was foul of a sailing vessel, which lay in the roadstead, and that the Berouw was stranded. However, owing to the violent winds and currents, we did not dare to send a boat to her assistance.

About 7 a.m. we saw some very high seas, presumably an upheaval of the sea, approaching us up the roadstead. These seas poured themselves out upon the shore and flowed inland, so that we presumed that the inhabitants who dwelt near the shore must be drowned. The signal beacon was altogether carried away, and the Berouw then lay high upon the shore among the cocoa-nut trees. Also, the revenue cutter lay aground, and some native boats, which had been lying in the neighborhood at anchor,were no more to be seen.

Since it was very dangerous to stay where we were, and since if we stayed we could render no assistance, we concluded to proceed to Anjer under steam, and there to give information of what had taken place, weighed anchor at 7:30 a.m., and following the direction of the bay steered southward.

At 10:30 a.m., we were obliged to come to anchor in the bay in 15 fathoms of water because the ash rain kept continually growing thicker and thicker, and pumice stone also began to be rained, of which some pieces were several inches thick.

The air grew steadily darker and darker, and at 10:30 a.m., we were in total darkness, just the same as on a very dark night. The wind was from the westward, and began to increase till it reached the force of a hurricane. So we let down both anchors and kept the screw turning slowly at half speed in order to ride over the terribly high seas, which kept suddenly striking us presumably in consequence of a "seaquake" and made us dread being buried under them.

Awnings and curtains from forward right up the main mast, three boat covers, and the uppermost awning of the quarter deck were blown away in a moment. Some objects on deck, which had been lashed, got loose and were carried overboard; the upper deck hatchways and those on the main deck were closed tightly, and the passengers for the most part were sent below. Heavy storms. The lightning struck the main mast conductor six or seven times, but did no damage. The rain of pumice stones changed to a violent mud rain, and this mud rain was so heavy that in the space of 10 minutes the mud lay half a foot deep.

Kept steaming with the head of the ship as far as possible seaward for half an hour when the sea began to abate, and at noon, the wind dropped away entirely. Then we stopped the engine. The darkness, however, remained as before, as did also the mud rain. The barometer at that time stood again at 763.25mm. Sounded the pumps. No water. Let the crew and also such passengers as were on deck work at throwing the mud overboard. At 2 p.m., the barometer was 763.30. The mud rain changed into a light ash rain.

The darkness remained the same until the following morning at 4 a.m. At daybreak, began to get the chain clear and weigh the anchor; got under steam at 6:30 a.m.; made out then Tims Island, bearing S by W [191degrees], and Pulo Soengal Island, bearing SW1/2W [230 degrees]. Held on our course for Pulo Tiga Island and fell in with much ash and driftwood.

When we got about two miles off Pulo Tiga, it appeared that a connection had been formed between the islands just mentioned stretching to Seboekoe Island, and thence to the mainland. Whether this connection was formed out of solid ground or only out of pumice stone and trunks of trees is not known. What is certain is, that at the distance at which it then lay, it looked exceedingly like solid ground, and so we thereupon turned back in order to look for another passage.

The very same phenomenon as had revealed itself near Pulo Tiga was discovered also between Tims Island, Seboekoe and Pulo Soenchal, and we, therefore, resolved to make our way out through the Strait of Lagoendie. This channel we found relatively clear, that is, in comparison with the other part of the bay.

Having got outside we discovered that here also we were entirely shut in; so steamed very slowly, stopping every now and then close by the so-called layer, and made it out at last to be floating pumice stone, through noticing that the layer was heaved up and down by the motion of the surf.

Now steamed somewhat faster, and when we got into the middle of the layer before referred to, found it to be 7 or 8 feet thick. It took us 10 minutes to get clear of it, and then we held our course south of Krakatau, the serang being in the fore-yard, a man on the look out forward, and the captain and first mate on the bridge.

As we steamed past Krakatau we noticed the middle of the island, and that no smoke was to be seen in any direction. However, when we got east of Krakatau, we discovered that between that island and Sebesie, a reef had formed, and that various craters planted on that reef were now and then sending columns of smoke on high. As we neared the coast of Java we observed that here, too, everything had been left desolate.

We also perceived that the lighthouse on Java's Fourth Point was entirely washed away; nothing remained except a stump some feet high.

At 4 o'clock reached Anjer roadstead, and although there was nothing more to be seen of the place itself, the captain and the first engineer went ashore to learn what information was to be obtained.

Ashore we met the resident of Bantam, and concluded to return straight on board in order to convey his honor to the roadstead of Bantam, and this because the resident assured us that it was of very great importance in the public interest that should be done.

We left Anjer Roads at 10 minutes to 5 o'clock, steamed around St. Nicholas' Point, and went on taking our bearings for the island of Pulo Pundjang, and steering into Bantam Bay.

We arrived at our destination at 6:50 p.m.; by request of the resident, put him on board a ship which lay in the roads there, and after having done this, at 7:30, we got under steam again and made for Kroe.