THE GREAT EARTHQUAKE OF '68. 



93 



lights adding to the confusion, when about 

 9.30 p. m. the lookout forward hailed the 

 deck and reported "Breakers ahead !" 



Sure enough, we saw, first, a thin line of 

 phosphorescent light, then, coming nearer 

 and nearer, swelling higher and higher, it 

 seemed to reach the sky and blot out 

 heaven. Its hideous crest gleaming with 

 phosphorescent death light, showing us the 

 sullen masses of water beneath ; its ap- 

 proach heralded by the thunder of a thou- 

 sand breakers combined, the dreadful tidal 

 wave was upon us at last. Of all the ter- 

 rors of that awful time, this seemed the 

 worst. Chained to the spot ; helpless to 

 escape; with all preparations made which 

 prudence or skill could suggest, we were 



stanch old Wateree struggled again to the 

 surface, with her gasping crew still clinging 

 to the holds provided for them, some se- 

 riously injured, but, thank God, none miss- 

 ing; none, killed. A miracle it seemed to 

 us then, and as I look back through the 

 years it seems doubly marvelous now. 



Presently the motion of the ship seemed 

 to cease, and lowering a lantern over the 

 side we found we were on dry land! 



For some time we remained at quarters, 

 until, finding the ship stationary, the order 

 was given to pipe down, which was fol- 

 lowed by the welcome order "all hands 

 stand by your hammocks." Such of the 

 crew as were not on watch took their ham- 

 mocks and calmly made their way through 



WE FOUND WE WERE ON DRY LAND! 



doomed to watch the monster's swift ap- 

 proach without the sustaining sense of em- 

 ployment. 



That the ship could ride through the 

 masses of water about to overwhelm us, 

 seemed impossible. We could only grip 

 the life lines with a convulsive shudder and 

 with clenched teeth wait ; while the leaden- 

 heeled moments delayed the final catas- 

 trophe. 



It came ! With a deafening crash our 

 gallant ship was overwhelmed and buried 

 deep beneath the semi-solid mass of sand 

 and water. For a breathless eternity we 

 knew not whether we were to live or die ; 

 and than, groaning in every timber, the 



the re-opened hatches, to the sodden, bent 

 deck — to sleep. 



I know not what dreams visited the pil- 

 lows of those brave fellows; but to me, one 

 of the wonders of that indescribable night, 

 was the prompt and cheerful obedience to 

 orders shown by those sorely tried men. 



Next morning broke on a scene of 

 desolation seldom witnessed. We found 

 ourselves in a little cove, or indentation in 

 the coast line, having been carried 5 miles 

 up the coast and nearly 2 miles inland. 

 The wave had carried us over the sand 

 dunes bordering the ocean, across a valley 

 and over the railroad, leaving us at the foot 

 of the seacoast range of the Andes. On 



