After the Ashes

Text copyright © 2015 by Sara K Joiner

All Rights Reserved

HOLIDAY HOUSE is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.

www.holidayhouse.com

ISBN 978-0-8234-3529-6 (ebook)w

ISBN 978-0-8234-3530-2 (ebook)r

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Joiner, Sara, author.

After the ashes / by Sara Joiner. —First edition.

pages cm

Summary: In 1883 thirteen-year-old Katrien Courtlandt is more interested in science and exploring the Javanese jungle for beetles with her native friend than in becoming a young lady like her despised cousin Brigitta—but when Krakatoa erupts, the tsunami hits, and their families are swept away, the two cousins must struggle to survive together.

Includes bibliographical references.

ISBN 978-0-8234-3441-1 (hardcover)

1. Survival—Juvenile fiction. 2. Volcanoes—Indonesia—19th century—Juvenile fiction. 3. Tsunamis—Indonesia—19th century—Juvenile fiction. 4. Cousins—Juvenile fiction. 5. Families—Indonesia—19th century—Juvenile fiction. 6. Dutch—Indonesia—19th century—Juvenile fiction. 7. Krakatoa (Indonesia)—Eruption, 1883—Juvenile fiction. 8. Java (Indonesia)—History—19th century—Juvenile fiction. [1. Survival—Fiction. 2. Volcanoes—Fiction. 3. Tsunamis—Fiction. 4. Cousins—Fiction. 5. Families—Fiction. 6. Dutch—Indonesia—Fiction. 7. Krakatoa (Indonesia)—Eruption, 1883—Fiction. 8. Java (Indonesia)—History—19th century—Fiction. 9. Indonesia—History—19th century—Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.1.J65Af 2015

813.6—dc23

[Fic]

2014044158

To Daddy and Papaw because I promised myself the first one would be dedicated to you
.

To Nana because she said I could do anything I set my mind to
.

To #1 Mom because she is #1
.

3
NOVEMBER
1880

Dear Mr. Charles Darwin,

I recently finished reading
On the Origin of Species
, and it has opened my eyes to the world. Vader—that's my father—let me read it when I asked why the Asian paradise- flycatcher and the racket-tailed treepie both had long tails but didn't look alike.

Now I know they both evolved differently.

I see lots of beautiful birds and animals here. We live on the west coast of Java with the ocean near our front door and the jungle almost in our backyard.

I love the jungle. I explore it almost every day because I plan to prove your theory of natural selection. Did you know there are people who don't believe it's true? I'm going to do what you did and collect specimens—hundreds of them, maybe even thousands—to show how one species changes over time into a new species.

Lots of times my friend Slamet explores with me. He tells me about the plants and flowers in the jungle because I'm not very good with vegetation. I prefer animals. Slamet is native and knows all about plants. His mother is our housekeeper, but we've been friends forever. Do you think that's strange?
Some of the girls in my school think it's funny that my closest friend is a native boy, but I don't think so.

Those girls usually call us names when we go to the beach together. Slamet and I ignore them. On the beach we can see all the way to Sumatra and even the volcano on Krakatau.

Have you ever been to Krakatau? It's an island. No one lives there, but I'm sure some animals do. Birds could fly there without any trouble; it's only forty kilometers from Anjer. I long to visit, but neither Vader nor my aunt will let me. My aunt says it's too dangerous since it's a volcano. Vader said it's extinct, but he still won't let me go. It can't be that dangerous if it's extinct, can it?

Perhaps you could visit Java someday, and we could explore Krakatau together. I could be your assistant. No one could object then because you are an important scientist.

Thank you for writing
On the Origin of Species
. I loved it, and I hope one day to meet you.

Yours in admiration,

Katrien Courtlandt

JUNE
1883

Anjer, Java, Dutch East Indies

I knelt down beside the giant strangler fig and reached within its latticelike trunk. There, hiding on the dying tree that was being suffocated by the surrounding fig, was a stag beetle—
Hexarthrius rhinoceros rhinoceros
.

“Careful,” Slamet said. “Do not scare it.”

“I won't. I've done this before,” I reminded him. With gentle fingers, I plucked the insect off the trunk. It filled the palm of my hand. The enormous mandibles stretched out from its head. Some people thought they were horns. “Isn't it beautiful?”

Slamet shook his head. “I do not know why you like this.”

“I'm proving a theory.” I pushed up my spectacles. “ ‘
We see the same great law in the construction of the mouths of insects
.' ”

His face went blank, and I knew he didn't understand what I said. Dutch was not his first language, and Javanese wasn't mine. How could I explain about Mr. Charles Darwin and his theory of natural selection? I had read his book
On the Origin of Species
four times, but Slamet couldn't read at all.

“Never mind,” I said.

He held out the funnel net, and I dropped the beetle in it with the other two I had already found, tying off the top of the net with string.

“Dank u,”
I said, standing up. As I did, my heel caught on my skirt and I plopped down in the mud.

“Aah!” I yelled.

With Slamet's help, I managed to get on my feet, though the brown muck stained the fabric. “My aunt won't be pleased.” I tried to wipe off the filth, but it didn't do any good.

“She will punish?” Slamet asked.

“She won't be happy, but I doubt she'll do anything to me.” I took the net from him.

We walked beside each other out of the jungle and toward Anjer. “You know what, Slamet?” I asked. “The capital is nothing like here.” My aunt Greet, Vader and I had just returned from a three-week trip to Batavia visiting my uncle Maarten, and I was still in awe at all there was to see and do in the Dutch East Indies' capital city.

“It is far,” Slamet said.

“
Ja
, but it's an easy trip by boat.” Slamet had never been farther than Merak, twenty kilometers north of here.

“What do you do?”

“In Batavia?”

He nodded.

I pushed my spectacles up. “We did lots of things. We went to the zoo. I think Oom Maarten enjoyed that even more than I did. Lots of the animals there are ones I've seen here in the jungle. Though they did have some animals from Africa—a lion and a zebra.”

“Zee-bruh?” He furrowed his brow.

“It's like a horse, and it has black and white stripes. Quite beautiful.”

“You like Batavia?”

I thought about that for a minute. Like Anjer, Batavia was on the ocean, but the capital was much larger than my town. I couldn't hear the waves from Oom Maarten's little house. He lived miles away from the docks, which pleased Tante Greet. “There are undesirables at the docks, Katrien,” she said to me. I wasn't sure what she meant by that. I only knew that not being able to hear the waves meant I didn't sleep very well.

“No,” I said in answer to Slamet's question. “I don't really like Batavia. It's too . . . organized. Too contained.”

He gave me that blank look again, and I tried to make myself more clear.

“The jungle has been beaten back. It's nowhere to be seen.” We passed by some of the kampongs—the tiny thatched cottages of the natives—on the outskirts of town. “My favorite parts of the trip were walking Oom Maarten's dog. Torben gets so excited when he goes for a walk, and he barks and barks at anything—people, other dogs, the crocodiles in the canals.”

We shuffled along in silence. The sounds of horses clopping through town and barking dogs intermingled with the croaking frogs and buzzing insects of the jungle. I took a deep breath in anticipation of telling Slamet the most interesting part of my trip.

“There's something else, Slamet. The strangest earthquake hit while we were there!”

Slamet was not impressed. “Earthquake is not strange.”

He was right. Earthquakes hit Java all the time. “I know, but this one was. It lasted for about an hour.”

His head whipped around to face me. “Hour?”

I nodded. “It was terrifying. Tante Greet and I took cover in a doorway, but the ground just kept shaking. Poor Torben sank to his belly and whimpered. Everything went quiet. Even the air seemed to vibrate. I've never experienced anything like it.”

We paused while a young native boy ran across our path, followed by a white girl. They hurried to one of the kampongs, reminding me of Slamet and myself when we were that little.

“Strange thing also happens here,” Slamet said, his brow creased. “While you are not here.”

“What happened?”

“Ash rains down.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ash falls from sky.” He moved his fingers like falling rain. “Strange.”

“When exactly did this happen while I was away?” I pushed my spectacles up.

He thought before saying, “Two weeks.”

I gasped. “That's the same time we had that strange earthquake in Batavia!”

“What does it mean?” he asked.

“I don't know.” It was certainly intriguing. Was it possible the two events were connected?

Slamet and I hadn't gone much farther when more little children—native and white—ran past us. They were all heading to the same crowded kampong. I shook myself out of my reverie about earthquakes and ash and we followed them. Inside the kampong, a storyteller was beginning to spin a wondrous tale in the same deep, gravelly voice he'd been using since the days when Slamet and I would sneak here to escape our chores. The storyteller didn't speak Dutch, but he was so gifted that I could understand the tales anyway.

As the storyteller spoke, Slamet cocked his head and smiled at me. “It is
Butho Ijo
.”

I smiled back. “I know.”

Butho Ijo
was one of my favorite Javanese stories. It was about a green giant who tells a woman how to have a child, then tricks her into giving up her daughter for him to eat. Fortunately, the daughter manages to destroy him with help from a hermit and a bag of magical objects.

The storyteller warmed to his tale. He made me jump as he raised his arms high above his head and deepened his voice for the giant. He hunched over when he played the hermit and fluttered his eyelashes when he acted out the daughter. I clapped along with the children when he finished the story and bowed.

At that point, Slamet poked my shoulder. “I go. Ibu needs me.”

I nodded as he left to help his mother, and slowly I rose to leave, too. I wished I could stay all day and listen to the stories with the other children. I missed being that young, when my mother was still alive and I could run around and play with anyone. But I was thirteen now, and Tante Greet lived with us, trying to turn me into a lady. Girls I used to play with now thought I was odd because of my friendship with Slamet and my insect collection.