THE GREAT EARTHQUAKE OF '68. 



9i 



manding officer, when about 4 p. in. we 

 were startled by a violent trembling of the 

 ship, similar to the effect produced by let- 

 ting go an anchor. Knowing it could not 

 be caused by that, we ran on deck, where 

 our attention was instantly arrested by a 

 great cloud of dust rapidly approaching 

 from the Southeast, while the terrible rum- 

 bling grew in intensity and before our 

 astonished eyes the everlasting hills 

 nodded and the ground swayed to and fro 

 like the short, choppy waves, of a troubled 

 sea. 



The cloud enveloped Arica. Instantly 

 through its impenetrable veil arose cries, 

 shrieks for help, the crash of falling 

 houses, and the thousand commingled 

 noises of a great calamity, while the ship 

 reeled as if grasped by a giant hand. Then 

 the cloud passed. As the dust slowly 

 settled, we rubbed our eyes and looked 

 again and again, believing they must be 

 playing us a trick, for where but a few 

 short moments before was a happy, pros- 

 perous city, busy with life and activity, we 

 beheld but a mass of shattered ruins; 

 hardly a house left standing; not one per- 

 fect; the streets blocked with debris 

 through which struggled frantically the 

 least wounded of the unhappy wretches im- 

 prisoned in the ruins of their once happy 

 homes ; while groans, cries, and shrieks for 

 mercy rent the air. Over all this hor- 

 ror the sun smiled peacefully from an un- 

 clouded sky, the sea rippled shoreward as 

 gently and musically as before. 



How long did it last? I can not tell. 

 No one seemed to take note of time. It 

 was a horrid nightmare, a dream from 

 which we would presently awake. But no ! 

 The agony and suffering before us were too 

 real and apparent to be the effect of imag- 

 ination. The shock may have been 4 or 

 5 minutes in reaching us and passing. 



With the recollection of the following 

 tidal wave at Santa Cruz, which stranded 

 one of our proudest sloops of war, the 

 Monongahela, in the streets, we anxiously 

 scanned the sea for any unusual appear- 

 ance betokening the coming of the dreaded 

 accompaniment, but all was as smiling and 

 serene as before. 



• Our prudent commander, however, gave 

 the necessary orders to prepare for the 

 worst. Additional anchors were let go ; 

 hatches were battened down ; guns secured ; 

 life lines rove fore and aft, and for a few 

 moments all was the orderly confusion of a 

 well disciplined man-of-war preparing for 

 action. Many hands make short work, and 

 in a few minutes we could again look 

 shoreward, where the uninjured were 

 thronging the shore and crowding the 

 little piers, crying to the shioping to aid 

 them in digging their loved ones from the 

 ruins, and to transport them to the ap- 



parent safety of the ships riding so quiet- 

 ly at anchor. 



Of course, this was more than we could 

 stand unmoved, and orders were given to 

 prepare a landing party of 40 men duly 

 equipped with shovels, etc. The gig, a 

 large double banked whaleboat, with a crew 

 of 13 men, shoved off at once. She had 

 reached the shore safe and landed her 

 crew, leaving only the customary boat- 

 keeper in charge when our attention was 

 distracted from the formation of the 

 wrecking party by a hoarse murmur. 

 Looking shoreward, to our horror 

 we saw vacancy where but a moment 

 before the pier had been, black with a mass 

 of struggling humanity; all swallowed up 

 by an incoming wave in a moment. 

 Amid the floating wreckage, we saw the 

 gig borne by an irresistible tide toward the 

 battlemented front of the Morro, with the 

 gallant seaman struggling to stem the cur- 

 rent. Finding his efforts vain, and certain 

 death awaiting him, he laid in his useless 

 oar, and, running aft to the coxswain's 

 seat, grasped the boat flag and waved a 

 last farewell to his shipmates as the boat 

 disappeared forever in the froth and comb 

 of the wave on the cruel rock. 



Thus the Wateree lost the only one of 

 her crew of 235 souls that fateful day. 



Then our troubles recommenced. Again 

 the horrible bellowing roar ! Again the 

 shaking, trembling earth waved to and fro. 

 This time the sea receded until the shipping 

 was left stranded, while as far to sea- 

 ward as our vision could reach we saw 

 the rocky bottom of the sea, never before 

 exposed to human gaze, with struggling 

 fish and monsters of the deep left high and 

 dry. While the round bottomed ships 

 keeled over on their beam ends, the Wa- 

 teree rested easily on her floorlike bottom, 

 and when the returning sea, not like a wave, 

 but rather like an enormous tide, came 

 sweeping back, rolling her unfortunate 

 companions over and over, leaving some 

 bottom up and others masses of wreckage, 

 our ship rose easily over the tossing wa- 

 ters unharmed. 



From that time the sea, too, defied the 

 laws of nature. Currents ran in contrary 

 directions, and we were borne here and 

 there with a speed we could not have 

 equalled had we been steaming for our 

 lives. At irregular intervals the earthquake 

 shocks recurred, but none of them so vio- 

 lent or so long continued as the first. 



The Peruvian man-of-war, America, said 

 to be the fastest ship in the world at that 

 time, had hastily gotten up steam and at- 

 tempted to get to sea. She was well out, 

 when the receding water left her partly 

 afloat and broke her back, of course de 

 stroying her engines. With funnels still 

 vomiting black smoke and apparently under 

 full command of her people, she was backed 



