Curiosity Shop. These had been Sam and Remi’s greatest sources for research material. Somewhere along the line, had Rivera and Garza tapped these sources as well?
Cloaked in her best “bad cop” impression, Selma started with Morton, claiming she knew he’d sold Blaylock material to others and that if Morton didn’t come clean she was going to take him to court. Morton broke down within two minutes, Selma said.
“He didn’t know Rivera’s name or how he’d come to know about the museum, but about five years ago he and a few of his goons showed up, asking questions about Blaylock and the Shenandoah. Morton says he didn’t particularly trust Rivera, and he suspected they’d get rough with him if he didn’t cooperate, so that night he moved all the important material out of the museum’s storeroom and hid it in his home. Sure enough, the next morning he arrived at the museum to find it had been ransacked.
“Rivera showed up a few hours later, pleasant as can be. During the night Morton had scrounged up some of Blaylock’s papers-pages from his journal, the original manuscript of the biography, random drawings and maps-”“The Moreau Madagascar map,” Remi predicted.
“Yes. He’d seen the tiny writing on it and tore away that section and gave the bigger piece to Rivera. Morton says that seemed to satisfy Rivera. They completed the transaction, and Rivera left. Morton, being the clever fellow he is, figured Rivera wasn’t quite done, so he moved the Blaylock material again, out of his home to another location.”“And that night his house was burglarized,” Sam said.
“Right. Morton made it a point to stay out all night with friends. The ruse worked, he said. Rivera never returned.”
“And then we show up five years later, asking the same questions.”
“Why didn’t he pull the same trick on us?”
“He said he liked you. And he wanted to retire and take care of his grandkids. When you offered sixty thousand instead of twenty, he decided to throw it all in and hold nothing back.”“Then we don’t know what Rivera knows, do we?” asked Remi.
“No,” Sam replied. “By dumb luck, Morton sold him enough to send him down some paths and make some progress, but not enough to finish it. Now with us in the picture, Rivera and Garza can tag along to the end. We have to expect they’re going to show up-if they haven’t already.”“Which brings me to my next point,” said Selma. “We finished decoding the rest of Blaylock’s letters to Constance. Care to guess the date of his last letter?”
“No,” replied Sam.
“Even the year?”
“Selma.” “Eighteen eighty-three.”
Remi replied, “That means he was out here chasing his treasure for eleven years. My God.”
“What about the letters in between?” Sam asked.
“There were only a few a year after Blaylock captured the Shenandoah II . As was his habit, the plain text part of the letters was mostly travelogue . . . the rakish man of adventure. In the letters, he duplicates almost all the tall tales from Morton’s biography. They were window dressing. One of his coded messages to Constance suggests he was convinced Dudley and the others had discovered his lie about the Shenandoah II and were after him.”“Were they?”
“Not as far as I can tell. And if they did know, they probably wouldn’t have cared. The Shenandoah II was gone. She was no longer a threat. Blaylock had done his job.”“Back to his last letter,” Sam prompted.
“Right. It’s dated August 3, 1883, and was posted from Bagamoyo. I’ll quote the relevant part directly:
“Have at last discovered the clue for which I’ve been praying. With God’s help I will discover the fountainhead of my great green jeweled bird and collect my long-delayed reward. Sailing tomorrow for Sunda Strait. Expect 23-25 day voyage. Will write again as possible.“Yours,
“W.”
“You said the Sunda Strait, correct?” Sam asked.
“Yes.”
Sam paused. He closed his eyes for a moment, a half smile on his face. Remi asked, “What is it?”
“Blaylock left Bagamoyo on August 3, 1883. Based on his estimated transit time, he would have arrived in the Sunda within a day or two of August twenty-seventh.”“Okay . . .”
“The Sunda Strait was where the Krakatoa volcano was. August twenty-seventh was the day it exploded.”
CHAPTER 41
ASHISTORY BUFFS, SAM AND REMI WERE WELL FAMILIAR WITH the 1883 eruption of Krakatoa. The archipelago, which covers roughly eight square miles of ocean, sits almost dead center in the Sunda Strait between Java and Sumatra and consisted of three islands prior to the cataclysm: Lang, Verlaten, and Rakata-the largest island in the group and home to the three volcanic cones collectively known as Krakatoa. Having undergone three major eruptions in the centuries prior to 1883, Krakatoa was no stranger to turmoil.
On May twentieth, three months prior to the final explosion, a great slash appeared in the side of Perbuatan, the northernmost cone, and steam began venting, along with plumes of ash that rose twenty-two thousand feet into the atmosphere. The residents of the nearby towns and villages, having witnessed such activity before, paid little attention, and by the end of the month their disinterest seemed validated. Krakatoa settled and remained mostly quiet for the next month.
On June sixteenth the eruptions began again, blanketing great swaths of sea and land with jet-black smoke for nearly a week. When the haze cleared, massive ash columns could be seen streaming from two of Krakatoa’s cones. Tides in the straits began running high, and ships at anchor had to strengthen their moorings lest they be beached.
Three weeks passed. Krakatoa’s two cones were joined by the third, and soon ash began accumulating on nearby islands, in some places up to two feet thick, killing flora and fauna and turning once-lush forests into moonscapes.
The eruptions continued through the end of June and into mid-August. On the twenty-fifth of August, at one o’clock in the afternoon, Krakatoa went into its paroxysmal phase. Within an hour, a black cloud of ash had risen eighteen miles into the sky, and the eruptions were nearly continuous. Fifteen and twenty miles away, ships were bombarded by hot pumice stones the size of softballs. By early evening, as darkness fell over the strait, minor tsunamis were rolling ashore on Java and Sumatra. The next morning, just before sunrise, Krakatoa went into its final death throes. A series of three eruptions, each one more powerful than the next, shook the area. So loud were the explosions that they were heard in Perth, Australia, two thousand miles to the southeast, and in the Mauritius Islands, three thousand miles to the west.
The resulting tsunamis, one for each eruption, radiated outward from Krakatoa at speeds up to one hundred twenty-five miles per hour, bulldozing their way onto the shores of Java and Sumatra and inundating islands as far away as fifty miles.
AT 10:02, KRAKATOA ISSUED its final salvo with an explosion equal to twenty thousand atomic bombs. The island of Krakatoa tore itself apart. The erupting cones, having ejected all their magma, collapsed in on themselves, taking with them fourteen square miles of the island and gouging out a caldera four miles wide and eight hundred feet deep. The resulting tsunami wiped out whole villages, killing thousands within minutes. Trees were uprooted, and the land stripped of every scrap of vegetation.
Following on the heels of the massive wave came the pyroclastic flows, gargantuan avalanches of fire and ash that roared down Krakatoa’s flanks and into the Sunda Strait. Traveling at eighty miles per hour and reaching temperatures in excess of twelve hundred degrees Fahrenheit, the surge boiled the ocean’s surface below it, creating a cushion of steam that carried it thirty miles or more, charring or entombing everything in its path, man- made and natural alike.Within hours of final explosion, what remained of Krakatoa fell silent. In the space of thirty hours, between 36,000 and 120,000 people lost their lives.
CHAPTER 42
