On route to China, the Irish merchant vessel Charles Bal ran with the wind, NW through the Sunda Strait, just prior to the explosion of Krakatoa on 27 August 1883. [My comments]. The following report is extracted from pages 253 to 259 of: “The Log of The Cutty Sark”. Basil Lubbock. 1925. It is a good read. “ The British ship Charles Bal was actually within sight of Krakatoa when the explosion split the island in twain. Captain Watson’s description of his experience is worth recording. At 7 p.m. on 22nd August in 15° 30’ S., 10° 5’ E., [Indian Ocean] the Charles Bal suddenly ran into a milk-white sea, which coming from ahead gradually extended until it touched the horizon all round. The sky, also, gave forth a silvery glare, somewhat like an Aurora display, the cumulus clouds, which showed here and there being edged with a pinky light. These phenomena continued to recur until the 25th, when the Charles Bal made Java Head; [T. Layar] the land was seen to be covered with thick dark clouds, pierced continually and in every direction by forked lightning. Princes Island [Pulau Panaitan] was passed at 9 a.m. on the 26th, and by noon a small portion, along the water’s edge, of the N.E. corner of Krakatoa could be made out, the rest of the island being covered by a dense, black cloud. The wind was S.W. with fine weather. By 2.30 the eruption was noticed to be growing steadily in violence: masses of black cloud being whirled to the N.E. at amazing speed, whilst the noise resembled heavy artillery fire at a second's interval one moment and the next a crackling and hissing as if of a mighty and furious ﬁre. At 4.15 p.m. the Charles Bal was only 10 miles south of the volcano, which was belching out what looked like blinding rain in a tornado-like squall of wind, and the glare was like that from countless millions of red hot ashes. The wind was moderate at W.S.W., and Captain Watson now shortened sail to lower topsails and fore sail, being more than troubled for his ship’s safety, as the roaring noise increased and every feature of the eruption grew more terrifying. By 5 o’clock the sky had been completely covered in by a pall of black smoke, which shrouded the ship in a smothering darkness. A hail of pumice stone now began to fall — it was quite hot to the touch and many of the pieces were so large that the skylights had to be covered, whilst the crew of the Charles Bal had hurriedly to don boots and sou’westers to protect their feet and their heads. For an hour these brickbats fell without ceasing; they were then followed by smaller stones and ashes and dust, which last blinded the eyes and speedily covered the decks to a depth of 3 or 4 inches, and all the time an intense blackness covered sky, sea and land. Captain Watson now hove his ship to, not daring to hold his course in face of the stupendous cataclysm ahead. The Charles Bal was abreast of the Fourth Point — at least it was believed that the light had been caught sight of for a moment. At this point Captain Watson described his situation as a truly fearful one. Sand and stones still fell without ceasing. The blackness over the doomed island was continually broken by sudden bursts of light as the: volcano roared in explosion after explosion, whilst all around the ship every kind of lightning zigzagged, flared and dazzled. With the wind now blowing strongly from the S.W., the Charles Bal was put on the port tack, and gradually head-reached away from the Java shore until at 11 p.m. Krakatoa bore W.N.W. 11 miles off, and the eruption was in plain observation of her crew. Chains of fire were noticed ascending and descending between the island and the black pall above it, at the same time balls of white fire rolled away from the S.W. end in a continuous stream. The wind blew strong, hot, choking and sulphurous, with the suffocating smell of burning cinders. Some of the lumps which were bombarding the ship seemed to be made of red hot iron. Captain Watson kept a man in the chains with a leadline, and the lead came up quite warm from a bottom of 30 fathoms. From midnight to 4 a.m. the Charles Bal might well have been off the Mouth of Hell itself. The choking wind held strong but unsteady between S.S.W. and W.S.W. The pitch blackness on every side was pierced every other second by a blaze of ﬁre as Krakatoa burst forth with a roaring and a thundering, which clattered, banged and rumbled as if the whole earth were being shattered to pieces. Electricity ran everywhere. The mastheads and yardarms of the Charles Bal were studded with corposants [St Elmo's fire], whilst a peculiar lurid pink ﬂame seemed to come down out of the clouds until it appeared to be resting on the trucks of the masts. At 6 a.m. the eruption grew somewhat less violent and it became light enough to make out the Java shore. The Fourth Point lighthouse was passed at 8 a.m. The Charles Bal hoisted her number but got no answer. At 8.30 she passed close enough to Anjer [Anyer] to make out the houses, but no movement of any kind could be detected ashore. At 10.15 a.m. the ship passed within half a mile of the Button Island. The weather for the moment was finer, no ashes or cinders were falling, the sea showed like glass under the lee of the island and the wind was south-east, light. An hour later a fearful explosion came from Krakatoa, now over 30 miles distant; and for the first time the crew of the Charles Bal took notice of an earthquake wave. Four times this wall of water rolled up, sweeping right over the southern end of the Button, and rising half way up its north and east sides, whilst it could be seen running high over the Java shore. With this wave the wind came strong out of the S.W. by S., whilst; the sky was rapidly covered in by dense clouds of smoke, and by 11.30 a.m. the darkness had become so thick that it could be felt. The ship was running N.E. by N. 7 knots under three lower topsails. Two ships had been sighted to the north and N .W. just before the sky closed in — they were the barques Norham Castle and Sir Robert SaIe — so Captain Watson put out his sidelights, placed two men on the look-out forward and gave his two mates instructions to watch on either quarter. Once more the heavens began to rain stones and sand, and, in addition, mud, which was so thick and sticky that a man had to be specially employed washing it off the binnacle glass. At noon the atmosphere was so dense and impenetrable that men standing together could not see each other, and the crew had to grope their way about the decks as if in the thickest, blackest fog. This terrifying state of things continued until 2 p.m., when the fall of mud ceased, though there was no diminution in the thunderings of the volcano, in the wild play of the lightning or in the brilliant glare of the flaming sky above Krakatoa. Soon after 2 p.m. the lower yards were distinguished, and by 5 West Island and the horizon ahead were visible. But the sky remained dark and heavy, sand fell at times, and the roaring of the volcano continued very distinct, though by this time the Charles Bal was fully 65 to 70 miles away, with the North Watcher in sight over the bow. The ship came out of the ordeal without any serious damage, but she looked as if she had been covered with cement from truck to waterline, her spars, sails, blocks and ropes being all coated with a mixture of mud and sand, which stuck like so much melted glue. The last ship to take orders from Anjer was Carmichael’s Medea. She had to plough her way through a sea of pumice stone in order to reach Batavia. Here she was anchored in pitch darkness whilst Captain Thomson landed in the Dutch Custom-house officer’s boat. On the way to the shore, the ﬁnal outburst, the one which probably split the island, occurred, and a glare went up into the sky which was so bright that human eyes could not bear it, then came the thunderous report in roll on roll of ear-shattering sound, such as has been reckoned to be the greatest ever heard upon this earth. This was followed by the tidal waves, which caught the Charles Bal off the Button. The first wave picked up the [Dutch Custom-house] boat and, without breaking, deposited it on top of a goods shed where its terrified occupants lay prone until the water had subsided. The Jason, of the same line, was one of the first ships to arrive off Anjer after the eruption. She found the Straits completely changed, there were islands where there should have been none, and some familiar landmarks had disappeared altogether, whilst the ramshackle town of Anjer was absolutely wiped out. Captain Richardson landed. At first he could find no sign of life whatever, but at last a half-demented native was encountered. To the captain’s stupefied enquiry :—“Where is Anjer?” the native replied in tones of terror :— “Anjer gone; wave come; all gone, all gone !" and straightway ﬂed in a panic, as if he feared a second convulsion of Nature. Captain Richardson estimated that the wave must have been 60 feet in height from the evidence of wreckage in the top of a solitary palm tree, which stood some distance from the beach. “ [Edited to fix OCR errors].