IN a little note-book in Hilo is a record which from time to time has been studied and copied frequently by visiting scientists. The missionary mother who put down the facts therein recorded never dreamed of being scientific. She simply kept a record. In 1832 Mrs. Sarah J. Lyman came to Hilo, where her husband founded the Hilo Boys' Boarding School, a school, by the way, after which the great Hampton Institute of Virginia was patterned. On October 3, 1833, she was tossed around in her home in a way somewhat alarming. She opened her little note-book and wrote, "Two earthquakes, one of them heavy."
She had a little curiosity to see how frequently these earthquakes disturbed her home. Thus the record went on from month to month and year to year: "Earthquake, motion up and down," "Heavy shake, stone walls down, cream shaken off the milk," "4 A.M., all the family aroused," "Jar and a noise like distant cannon," "Tremendous shock, brace ourselves to stand up," "Kai-mimiki" (sea shaken by an earthquake), {p. 178} "All motions combined, earth like the sea." At one time the record ran: "Frequent jars, severe, so many I have ceased to count."
Interspersed through this concise and interesting story of earthquakes told in a few word pictures are many references to other volcanic phenomena. "Activity great in Mokuaweoweo. Mountain clear for several days, the smoke is marked, light brilliant at night, snow extensive on both mountains."
The year 1863 has been marked as the volcano year of Hawaiian history. Mr. F. S. Lyman, now living in Hilo, wrote a journal letter, which was quoted in full. He writes as follows about the earthquake:
"March 27-31, 1868. A sudden eruption from Mauna Loa, no forewarning, a spray of red lava thrown high in the air, followed by a great stream of smoke rising up thousands of feet. In Kati we had quite a sprinkling of Pele's hair, peculiar earthquakes--first hard shakes, then a swaying motion, as if the whole island were swaying back and forth and we with it. March 31--From about 10 P.M. to 2 A.M. the shaking was incessant, Thursday, April 2nd. We experienced the most fearful of earthquakes. The earth swayed north, south, cast, west, round and round, up and down, and in every imaginable direction, everything crashing around us, trees
{p. 179}
thrashing as if torn by a mighty wind, impossible to stand. We had to sit on the ground, bracing with hands and feet, to keep from rolling over."
Mr. H. M. Whitney, editor of the Advertiser, says that "the number of shocks which occurred at Waiohinu from March 29 to April 10 was estimated at upwards of two thousand. The heaviest shock, that of April 2d, destroyed every church and nearly every dwelling in the whole district. This earthquake was felt very sensibly in Honolulu. Following the earthquake came a great tidal wave at Punaluu. It rolled in over the tops of coconut trees, probably sixty feet high at least, driving all floating rubbish inland about a quarter of a mile--taking with it, when it returned to the sea, houses, men, and women and everything movable."
Mr. Lyman wrote: "We could see the shore. All along the seashore from directly below us to Punaluu about three or four miles the sea was boiling and foaming furiously, all red."
Two remarkable eruptions accompanied this earthquake. The lava, starting from the slope of Mauna Loa, sank into some great channel but "burst forth with a heavy roar several miles farther down. The lava stream became a river of fire, flowing rapidly toward and around some farmhouses. The inmates had barely time to escape. The path by which they fled was covered
{p. 180}
with lava within ten minutes after they passed over it. Animals and even human beings perished. The number of deaths were between eighty and one hundred. This eruption flowed ten miles in two hours, and continued five days, destroying many thousands of acres of good lands." The second remarkable eruption was nearer the crater Kilauea and has been known as "The Great Mud Flow of 1868." It is in the region covered by the Pahala plantation.
Mr. Lyman writes: "In the midst of the great earthquake we saw burst out from the top of the pali about a mile and a half north of us, what we supposed to be an immense river of molten lava (which afterward proved to be red earth), which rushed down in headlong course and across the plain below, apparently bursting from the ground and swallowing up everything in its way-trees, houses, cattle, horses, men, in an instant as it were. It went three miles in not more than three minutes' time and then stopped. After the hard shaking had ceased we went right over to a hill with the children and our natives expecting every moment to be swallowed up by the lava from beneath, for it sounded as if it were surging and washing under our feet all the time. Outside of Punaluu we saw a long black point of lava slowly pushing out to sea. An island about four hundred feet high rose out of the sea at the south
{p. 181}
point. The lava river has extended the shore to this island one mile at least."
Mrs. Lyman wrote: "Jan. 30, 1875. Light exceedingly brilliant. Perpendicular column of smoke over 1,000 feet high on the summit crater spreading out at top like an expanding flower." This august glow was described by members of the "Challenger" expedition as "a globular cloud perpetually reformed by condensation, having a brilliant orange glow at night as if a fire were raging in the distance."
This display from the summit of Mauna Loa continued about eighteen months.
Isabella Bird Bishop, author of "Six Months in the Sandwich Islands," visited this active crater in 1874, and wrote about the crater itself. "Nearly opposite us a fountain of pure yellow fire, unlike the gory gleam of Kilauea, was throwing up its glorious incandescence. The sunset gold was not purer than the living fire. The roar of this surging lava sea was a glorious sound, the roar of an ocean at dispeace mingled with the hollow murmur of surf echoing in sea caves, booming on, rising and falling like the thunder music of windward Hawaii. The area below us was over two miles long and a mile and a half wide with precipitous sides and a broad second shelf about 300 feet below the one we occupied with a fire fountain three-quarters
{p. 182}
of a mile away. On the way up the mountain there was a fearful internal throbbing and rumbling, rocks and masses of soil were dislodged, the earth reeled, then rocked again with such violence that I felt as if the horse and myself had gone over."
During these months of 1874-1875 there were magnificent exhibitions of clouds reflecting volcanic fires caused by the upburst of lava fountains.
The summit crater of Mauna Loa is about 13,000 feet altitude. Snow has frequently covered the top of the mountain, lying in deep banks around the edge of the crater. The cold has acted quickly upon the lake of fire, congealing a large part of the surface into a hard floor of lava. Gases, steam, and smoke lift this floor and break through it with great violence, escaping from the melted lava in pillars of cloud against which the fires beneath mirror themselves in glorious displays of color. These outbursts were frequently called eruptions. The modern name is more correct. They are "glows," reflecting wonderful fires beneath.
Mrs. Lyman mentions another eruption from the summit of Mauna Loa. "1877. Feb. 14. Eruption seen on the mountain. Ten days extinct then broke out lower down the mountain and reached the sea in a few days, near Kaawaloa, Kealakekua Bay."
{p. 183}
Dana says, "The columns of illuminated steam rose with fearful speed to a height of 14,000 to 17,000 feet and then spread out into a vast fiery cloud looking at night as if the heavens were on fire."
After this, there was an underground eruption to the sea marked by a fissure down the mountain side through which clouds of steam and smoke were forced. The lava at last found its place for escape under the sea.
H. Al. Whitney, the editor of the Hawaiian Gazette, was a witness of this submarine eruption. In the issue of Feb. 28, 1877, he wrote: "As the steamer Kilauea came toward the bay, the passengers saw some canoes rowing about over boiling water. The natives reported that about three o'clock in the morning of Feb. 24, they had seen innumerable red, blue, and green lights dancing in the waters. Morning disclosed a new volcano in the sea. The southern shore of the bay has been known as Keei point. The eruption appeared to be in a straight line out from this point. Three boats from the steamer went out, cruising over the most active part of the boiling waters, appearing as if passing over rapids. Blocks of lava two feet across were thrown up from beneath, striking the boats and jarring them. The lava was quite soft and no harm was done. Six stones hit the boat in one
{p. 184}
minute. Several hundred pieces of these stones were floating on the sea at one time. Nearly all the pieces on reaching the surface were red hot, emitting steam and gas strongly sulphurous. Several were taken into the boats, perfectly incandescent and so molten in the interior that the lava could be stirred with a stick, the water having penetrated only about an inch. When these stones cooled and became water soaked they sank rapidly. The specimens taken from the water were of the a-a variety and very light. Probably only the lightest came to the surface. Some of the lava consisted of Pele's hair, red hot, yet preserving its peculiar characteristics."
Mrs. Lyman has the record of a terrible tidal wave which struck Hilo harbor in May of that same year: "1877, May 10. A heavy tidal wave at 5 A.M., destroying 34 houses on the Waiakea side of the harbor, also the bridge and twelve houses between Waialama and Aiko's old store. One hundred and sixty people homeless, some bruised, bones broken, five dead. Wave was thirteen and a half feet above high water mark at Waiakea, swept inland forty rods, accurate measurement." Following this on May 31, came the record "severe shake, things thrown down."
Dana says: "A destructive earthquake wave was felt at the Hawaiian Islands on May 10,
{p. 185}
1877, which rose at Hilo to a height of 36 feet. But it was of South American origin, where there were heavy earth-shocks, and not of Hawaiian."
One of the eruptions from Mokuaweoweo tried to take possession of a river-bed, but the waters chilled one side of the lava and built it into a wall. On one side was flowing fire and on the other the swift rapids of a river. The antagonistic elements sought the sea side by side.
A native account of Kilauea in "Ka Hae Hawaii [The Hawaiian Flag]" was published in Honolulu in March, 1859. In it is a very interesting native account of eruptions on the island Hawaii. The sketch is in the quaint Hawaiian tongue and is valuable throughout, but only a few extracts from the translation can be used at present. The story as told by the Hawaiian runs as follows:
"In the very ancient time Mauna Kea threw out vast Pele fires, but long ago these eruptions have been imprisoned. The earth has covered them in on all sides and the abundant soil, large trees, and green things of many kinds are multiplying. But not so Mauna Loa and Hualalai, other mountains of this island Hawaii. Pele fires have burst forth from them even up to recent times.
"Mauna Loa is the greatest of all the mountains,
{p. 186}
opening doors for the Pele fires from all its sides. Kilauea and Mokuaweoweo are the very wonderful Pele pits (craters) discharging fire from the very depths of the mountains.
"In the year 1822, or 1823 perhaps, there was an eruption from Kilauea pouring down into the Kau district very close to the Puna line. From the depths of Kilauea was this bursting forth. The a-a (broken lava) of this eruption in its journey to the sea spread about eight miles. In the year 1832 the pit of Kilauea was full of burning a-a. It broke into some ancient tunnel connected with Kilauea and flowed away. The place where the a-a reached the sea is not known. It is supposed to have gone into the sea underground.
"In the year 1840, the people of Puna and Hilo districts saw a great fire inland. They thought that the forest wilderness was burning. That day was the Sabbath. The people assembled together and looked toward the place where the fire was very great and the air was heavy with smoke. Then they saw that this was not an ordinary forest fire but a Pele (an eruption). They could not see any a-a breaking out on the mountain, and therefore were greatly afraid that it was very near and would destroy their lands. Volumes of smoke rolled, curling upward, while the strong steam burst forth
{p. 187}
with reports like the firing of cannon. On the 4th day of June that eruption poured down into the sea. Narrow was the flow in steep places and spread out widely in others. When it came to the sea mighty was the stormy rage and the boiling of the sea, the steam rising in clouds to the sky. There were built up on the beach two hills of black sand, about 400 feet in height. Only on the side from which the wind blew could any one come near. On the other side the smoke was very strong, offensive and sickening like a volcano. Then there were burning ashes destroying every green thing for many miles. The lands of the people of Nanawale were quickly made a desolate wilderness by the heat and the overflowing lava. Some animals were caught by the lava and burned to death. None of the people were destroyed. They escaped with poverty."
A curious and interesting statement is made by the Hawaiian fishermen of Waikiki concerning a peculiar disturbance of the sea simultaneous with all seasons of volcanic agitation. One of the older and more intelligent fishermen says that from his boyhood he has known a pushing up and down, backward and forward, of the waters every time that Mauna Loa has shown activity in either of its great craters. Fishnets are so tossed about that it is almost impossible
{p. 188}
to retain any fish in them. Hooks are so rapidly moved by the commotion in the waters that fishing with hook and line is not very successful.
The Hawaiians call the ocean at such times kai-mimiki (the rushing sea). Mimiki is defined as a meeting of a returning wave with another advancing, and is sometimes used to express the confusion of advancing and returning tidal waves. Sometimes mimiki is used to denote the choppy waters which follow a storm. The inherent idea of the word seems to be quick, independent action of waves, bringing them into conflict with each other and destroying the quiet, regular motion.
{p. 189}
