168 TRAVELS IN THE EAST INDIAN ARCHIPELAGO. 



The time that elapsed between hearing the rumbling 

 noise and feeling the shock itself was about five 

 seconds. At this time of the year, in the middle of 

 a monsoon, the wind blows constantly day and 

 night ; but after this earthquake there was not 

 the slightest perceptible motion in the air. The 

 tree-toads stopped theii' steady 23iping, and the noc- 

 tui'nal insects all ceased their shrill music. It v>^as 

 so absolutely quiet that it seemed as if all nature 

 was waiting in dread anticipation of some coming 

 catastrophe. Such an unnatural stillness was cer- 

 tainly more painful than the howling of the most 

 violent tempest or the roar of the heaviest thunder. 

 Meantime, lights sprang up here and there in the 

 neighboring houses, and all the doors were thrown 

 open, that at the slightest warning everybody might 

 run into the street. The strange words of the Chinese, 

 Malays, and Arabs, sounded yet stranger in the dark, 

 still night, as each called in a subdued but most ear- 

 nest tone to his or her relatives. The utter helpless- 

 ness which every one feels at such a time, where even 

 the solid earth groans and trembles beneath his feet, 

 makes the solicitude most keenly painful. It was 

 half an hour — and that half hour seemed an age — 

 before the wind beo-an to blow as before. Then 

 the nocturnal animals, one after another, slowly re- 

 sumed their nightly cries, and our alarm gradu- 

 ally subsided as the dawn appeared, and once 

 more gave promise of approaching day. I had long 

 been anxious to mtness an earthquake; but since 

 that dreadful night there is something in the very 

 sound of the Avord that makes me almost shudder. 



