THE POMPEII OF THE EAST - Tambora: The Eruption that Changed the World - page 3

Another source of anxiety lay closer at hand: the magnificent mountain Tambora, the
tallest peak in an archipelago rich in cloudy, volcanic summits. The broad, forested slopes of
Tambora dominated the Sanggar peninsula, and its distinctive twin peaks served as a major
navigation point for shipping—and pirates. The long-dormant Tambora had for some years
past begun to rumble periodically, sending forth dark clouds from its airy summit. A British
ship captained by the diplomat and naturalist John Crawfurd sailed near the belching moun-
tain in 1814:
At a distance, the clouds of ashes which it threw out blackened one side of the horizon in
such a manner as to convey the appearance of a threatening tropical squall…. As we ap-
proached, the real nature of the phenomenon became apparent, and ashes even fell on the
deck. 6
Local opinion varied as to the cause of the mountain's groggy awakening. Some thought it
the celebration of a marriage among the gods, while others viewed it more darkly. The rum-
blings signified anger, they said. In a notorious incident, a Sumbawan chief had murdered a
Muslim pilgrim. Another legend still popular in Sumbawa tells of a visiting “shaykh,” a holy
man, who was outraged to find dogs loose in the local mosque. When the offended locals
served him canine meat in revenge, the shaykh discovered the trick and began to pray. In an
instant he vanished, the butchered dog reappeared in living form, and the volcano began to
bellow. 7 Still others believed the gods were angry that the people had allowed foreign white
men with their ships and guns to enslave them on plantations on nearby Java and Macassar. 8
The raja took all these opinions personally. Throughout the East Indies, volcanism served
as a symbol of political power. Sultans, for example, represented themselves as offspring of
the mountain god, Siva. 9 Volcanic eruptions were accordingly viewed as mirrors of human
affairs, as punishment for the poor administration of their rulers. Tambora's rumblings were
bad news for the raja; they unnerved his people and undermined his legitimacy in their eyes.
On the evening of April 5, 1815, at about the time his servants would have been clearing
the dinner dishes, the raja heard an enormous thunderclap. 10 Perhaps his first panicked
thought was that the beach lookout had fallen asleep and allowed a pirate ship to creep into
shore and fire its cannon. But everyone was instead staring up at Mount Tambora. A skyward
jet of flame burst from the summit, lighting up the darkness and rocking the earth beneath
their feet. The noise was incredible, painful. 11
Huge plumes of flame issued from the mountain for three hours, until the dark mist of ash
became confused with the natural darkness, seeming to announce the end of the world. Then,
as suddenly as it had begun, the column of fire collapsed, the earth stopped shaking, and the
bone-jarring roars faded. Over the next few days, Tambora continued to bellow occasionally,
while ash drifted down from the sky. But for the raja the emergency appeared over. His first
concern was for the imminent rice harvest. The villagers toiled night and day in the fields to
clean the thick film of gray, sandy dust from the rice plants—a messy business.
Meanwhile to the southeast in the capital Bima, colonial administrators were sufficiently
alarmed by the events of April 5 to send an official, named Israel, to investigate the emer-
gency situation on the Tambora peninsula. We don't know if he stopped to discuss the situ-
ation with the raja of Sanggar, but by April 10 the unlucky man's bureaucratic zeal had led
him to the very slopes of Tambora. There, in the dense tropical forest, at about 7:00 pm , he