On August 13, 1868, one of the most terrible calamities which has ever visited a people befell the unfortunate inhabitants of Peru. In that land earthquakes are nearly as common as rain-storms are with us; and shocks by which whole cities are changed into a heap of ruins are by no means infrequent. Yet even in Peru, ‘the land of earthquakes,’ as Humboldt has termed it, no such catastrophe as that of August 1868 had occurred within the memory of man. It was not one city which was laid in ruins, but a whole empire. Those who perished were counted by tens of thousands, while the property destroyed by the earthquake was valued at millions of pounds sterling.

Although so many months have passed since this terrible calamity took place, scientific men have been busily engaged until quite recently in endeavouring to ascertain the real significance of the various events which were observed during and after the occurrence of the earthquake. The geographers of Germany have taken a special interest in interpreting the evidence afforded by this great manifestation of nature’s powers. Two papers have been written recently on the great earthquake of August 13, 1868, one by Professor Von Hochstetter, the other by Herr Von Tschudi, which present an interesting account of the various effects, by land and by sea, which resulted from the tremendous upheaving force to which the western flanks of the Peruvian Andes were subjected on that day. The effects on land, although surprising and terrible, yet only differ in degree from those which have been observed in other earthquakes. But the progress of the great sea-wave which was generated by the upheaval of the Peruvian shores and propagated over the whole of the Pacific Ocean differs altogether from any earthquake-phenomena before observed. Other earthquakes have indeed been followed by oceanic disturbances; but these have been accompanied by terrestrial motions, so as to suggest the idea that they had been caused by the motion of the sea-bottom, or of the neighbouring land. In no instance has it ever before been known that a well-marked wave of enormous proportions should have been propagated over the largest ocean-tract on our globe, by an earth-shock whose direct action was limited to a relatively small region, and that region not situated in the centre, but on one side of the wide area traversed by the wave.

I propose to give a brief sketch of the history of this enormous sea-wave. In the first place, however, it may be well to remind the reader of a few of the more prominent features of the great shock to which this wave owed its origin.

It was at Arequipa, at the foot of the lofty volcanic mountain Misti, that the most terrible effects of the great earthquake were experienced. Within historic times Misti has poured forth no lava-streams; but that the volcano is not extinct is clearly shown by the fact that in 1542 an enormous mass of dust and ashes was vomited forth from its crater. On August 13, 1868, Misti showed no signs of being disturbed. So far as their volcanic neighbour was concerned, the 44,000 inhabitants of Arequipa had no reason to anticipate the catastrophe which presently befell them. At five minutes past five an earthquake shock was experienced, which, though severe, seems to have worked little mischief. Half a minute later, however, a terrible noise was heard beneath the earth; a second shock more violent than the first was felt; and then began the swaying motion, gradually increasing in intensity. In the course of the first minute this motion had become so violent that the inhabitants ran in terror out of their houses into the streets and squares. In the next two minutes the swaying movement had so increased that the more lightly-built houses were cast to the ground, and the flying people could scarcely keep their feet. ‘And now,’ says Von Tschudi, ‘there followed during two or three minutes a terrible scene. The swaying motion which had hitherto prevailed changed into fierce vertical upheaval. The subterranean roaring increased in the most terrifying manner: then were heard the heart-piercing shrieks of the wretched people, the bursting of walls, the crashing fall of houses and churches, while over all rolled thick clouds of a yellowish-black dust, which, had they been poured forth many minutes longer, would have suffocated thousands.’ Although the shock had lasted but a few minutes, the whole town was destroyed. Not one building remained uninjured, and there were few which did not lie in shapeless heaps of ruins.

At Tacna and Arica, the earth-shock was less severe, but strange and terrible phenomena followed it. At the former place a circumstance occurred, the cause and nature of which yet remain a mystery. About three hours after the earthquake—in other words, at about eight o’clock in the evening—an intensely brilliant light made its appearance above the neighbouring mountains. It lasted for fully half an hour, and has been ascribed to the eruption of some as yet unknown volcano.

At Arica the sea-wave produced even more destructive effects than had been caused by the earthquake. About twenty minutes after the first earth-shock, the sea was seen to retire, as if about to leave the shores wholly dry; but presently its waters returned with tremendous force. A mighty wave, whose length seemed immeasurable, was seen advancing like a dark wall upon the unfortunate town, a large part of which was overwhelmed by it. Two ships, the Peruvian corvette ‘America’ and the United States ‘double-ender’ ‘Watertree,‘ were carried nearly half a mile to the north of Arica, beyond the railroad which runs to Tacna, and there left stranded high and dry. This enormous wave was considered by the English vice-consul at Arica to have been fully fifty feet in height.

At Chala, three such waves swept in after the first shocks of earthquake. They overflowed nearly the whole of the town, the sea passing more than half a mile beyond its usual limits.

At Islay and Iquique similar phenomena were manifested. At the former town the sea flowed in no less than five times, and each time with greater force. Afterwards the motion gradually diminished, but even an hour and a half after the commencement of this strange disturbance, the waves still ran forty feet above the ordinary level. At Iquique, the people beheld the inrushing wave whilst it was still a great way off. A dark blue mass of water, some fifty feet in height, was seen sweeping in upon the town with inconceivable rapidity. An island lying before the harbour was completely submerged by the great wave, which still came rushing on, black with the mud and slime it had swept from the sea-bottom. Those who witnessed its progress from the upper balconies of their houses, and presently saw its black mass rushing close beneath their feet, looked on their safety as a miracle. Many buildings were indeed washed away, and in the low-lying parts of the town there was a terrible loss of life. After passing far inland the wave slowly returned seawards, and strangely enough, the sea, which elsewhere heaved and tossed for hours after the first great wave had swept over it, here came soon to rest.

At Callao a yet more singular instance was afforded of the effect which circumstances may have upon the motion of the sea after a great earthquake has disturbed it. In former earthquakes Callao has suffered terribly from the effects of the great sea-wave. In fact, on two occasions the whole town has been destroyed, and nearly all its inhabitants have been drowned, through the inrush of precisely such waves as flowed into the ports of Arica and Chala. But upon this occasion the centre of subterranean disturbance must have been so situated that either the wave was diverted from Callao, or more probably two waves reached Callao from different sources and at different times, so that the two undulations partly counteracted each other. Certain it is that, although the water retreated strangely from the coast near Callao, insomuch that a wide tract of the sea-bottom was uncovered, there was no inrushing wave comparable with those described above. The sea afterwards rose and fell in an irregular manner, a circumstance confirming the supposition that the disturbance was caused by two distinct oscillations. Six hours after the occurrence of the earth-shock, the double oscillations seem for a while to have worked themselves into unison, for at this time three considerable waves rolled in upon the town. But clearly these waves must not be compared with those which in other instances had made their appearance within half an hour of the earth-throes. There is little reason to doubt that if the separate oscillations had reinforced each other earlier, Callao would have been completely destroyed. As it was, a considerable amount of mischief was effected; but the motion of the sea presently became irregular again, and so continued until the morning of August 14th, when it began to ebb with some regularity. But during the 14th there were occasional renewals of the irregular motion, and several days elapsed before the regular ebb and flow of the sea were resumed.

Such were among the phenomena presented in the region where the earthquake itself was felt. It will be seen at once that within this region, or rather along that portion of the sea-coast which falls within the central region of disturbance, the true character of the sea-wave generated by the earthquake could not be recognised. If a rock fall from a lofty cliff into a comparatively shallow sea, the water around the place where the rock has fallen is disturbed in an irregular manner. The sea seems at one place to leap up and down; elsewhere one wave seems to beat against another, and the sharpest eye can detect no law in the motion of the seething waters. But presently, outside the scene of disturbance, a circular wave is seen to form, and if the motion of this wave be watched, it is seen to present the most striking contrast to the turmoil and confusion at its centre. It sweeps onwards and outwards in a regular undulation. Gradually it loses its circular figure (unless the sea-bottom happens to be unusually level), showing that although its motion is everywhere regular, it is not everywhere equally swift. A wave of this sort, though incomparably vaster, swept swiftly away on every side from the scene of the great earthquake near the Peruvian Andes. It has been calculated that the width of this wave varied from one million to five million feet, or roughly, from 200 to 1,000 miles, while, when in mid-Pacific, the length of the wave, measured along its summit in a widely-curved path from one side to another of the great ocean, cannot have been less than 8,000 miles.

We cannot tell how deep-seated was the centre of subterranean action; but there can be no doubt it was very deep indeed, because otherwise the shock felt in towns separated from each other by hundreds of miles could not have been so nearly contemporaneous. Therefore the portion of the earth’s crust upheaved must have been enormous, for the length of the region where the direct effects of the earthquake were perceived is estimated by Professor Von Hochstetter at no less than 240 miles. The breadth of the region is unknown, because on one side the slope of the Andes and on the other the ocean concealed the motion of the earth’s crust.

The great ocean wave swept, as I have said, in all directions around the scene of the earth-throe. Over a large part of its course its passage was unnoted, because in the open sea the effects even of so vast an undulation could not be perceived. A ship would slowly rise as the crest of the great wave passed under her, and then as slowly sink again. This may seem strange, at first sight, when it is remembered that in reality the great sea-wave we are considering swept at the rate of three or four hundred sea-miles an hour over the larger part of the Pacific. But when the true character of ocean-waves is understood, when it is remembered that there is no transference of the water itself at this enormous rate, but simply a transmission of motion (precisely as when in a high wind waves sweep rapidly over a corn-field, while yet each cornstalk remains fixed in the ground), it will be seen that the effects of the great sea-wave could only be perceived near the shore. Even there, as we shall presently see, there was much to convey the impression that the land itself was rising and falling rather than that the deep was moved. But among the hundreds of ships which were sailing upon the Pacific when its length and breadth were traversed by the great sea-wave, there was not one in which any unusual motion was perceived.

In somewhat less than three hours after the occurrence of the earthquake, the ocean-wave inundated the port of Coquimbo, on the Chilian seaboard, some 800 miles from Arica. An hour or so later it had reached Constitucion, 450 miles farther south; and here for some three hours the sea rose and fell with strange violence. Farther south, along the shore of Chili, even to the island of Chiloe, the shore-wave travelled, though with continually diminishing force, owing doubtless to the resistance which the irregularities of the shore opposed to its progress.

The northerly shore-wave seems to have been more considerable; and a moment’s study of a chart of the two Americas will show that this circumstance is highly significant. When we remember that the principal effects of the land-shock were experienced within that angle which the Peruvian Andes form with the long north-and-south line of the Chilian and Bolivian Andes, we see at once that, had the centre of the subterranean action been near the scene where the most destructive effects were perceived, no sea-wave, or but a small one, could have been sent towards the shores of North America. The projecting shores of northern Peru and Ecuador could not have failed to divert the sea-wave towards the west; and though a reflected wave might have reached California, it would only have been after a considerable interval of time, and with dimensions much less than those of the sea-wave which travelled southwards. When we see that, on the contrary, a wave of even greater proportions travelled towards the shores of North America, we seem forced to the conclusion that the centre of the subterranean action must have been so far to the west that the sea-wave generated by it had a free course to the shores of California.

Be this as it may, there can be no doubt that the wave which swept the shores of Southern California, rising upwards of sixty feet above the ordinary sea-level, was absolutely the most imposing of all the indirect effects of the great earthquake. When we consider that even in San Pedro Bay, fully five thousand miles from the centre of disturbance, a wave twice the height of an ordinary house rolled in with unspeakable violence only a few hours after the occurrence of the earth-throe, we are most strikingly impressed with the tremendous energy of the earth’s movement.

Turning to the open ocean, let us track the great wave on its course past the multitudinous islands which dot the surface of the great Pacific.

The inhabitants of the Sandwich Islands, which lie about 6,300 miles from Arica, might have imagined themselves safe from any effects which could be produced by an earthquake taking place so far away from them. But on the night between August 13 and 14, the sea around this island-group rose in a surprising manner, insomuch that many thought the islands were sinking and would shortly subside altogether beneath the waves. Some of the smaller islands, indeed, were for a time completely submerged. Before long, however, the sea fell again, and as it did so the observers ‘found it impossible to resist the impression that the islands were rising bodily out of the water.’ For no less than three days this strange oscillation of the sea continued to be experienced, the most remarkable ebbs and floods being noticed at Honolulu, on the island of Woahoo.

But the sea-wave swept onwards far beyond these islands.

At Yokohama, in Japan, more than 10,500 miles from Arica, an enormous wave poured in on August 14, but at what hour we have no satisfactory record. So far as distance is concerned, this wave affords most surprising evidence of the stupendous nature of the disturbance to which the waters of the Pacific Ocean had been subjected. The whole circumference of the earth is but 25,000 miles, so that this wave had travelled over a distance considerably greater than two-fifths of the earth’s circumference. A distance which the swiftest of our ships could not traverse in less than five or six weeks had been swept over by this enormous undulation in the course of a few hours.

More complete details reach us from the Southern Pacific.

Shortly before midnight the Marquesas Isles and the low-lying Tuamotu group were visited by the great wave, and some of these islands were completely submerged by it. The lonely Opara Isle, where the steamers which run between Panama and New Zealand have their coaling station, was visited at about half-past eleven in the evening by a billow which swept away a portion of the coal depÔt. Afterwards great waves came rolling in at intervals of about twenty minutes, and several days elapsed before the sea resumed its ordinary ebb and flow.

It was not until about half-past two on the morning of August 14, that the Samoa Isles (sometimes called the Navigator Islands) were visited by the great wave. The watchmen startled the inhabitants from their sleep by the cry that the sea was about to overwhelm them; and already, when the terrified people rushed from their houses, the sea was found to have risen far above the highest watermark. But it presently began to sink again, and then commenced a series of oscillations, which lasted for several days and were of a very remarkable nature. Once in every quarter of an hour the sea rose and fell, but it was noticed that it rose twice as rapidly as it sank. This peculiarity is well worth remarking. The eminent physicist Mallet speaks thus (I follow Lyell’s quotation) about the waves which traverse an open sea: ‘The great sea-wave, advancing at the rate of several miles in a minute, consists, in the deep ocean, of a long low swell of enormous volume, having an equal slope before and behind, and that so gentle that it might pass under a ship without being noticed. But when it reaches the edge of soundings its front slope becomes short and steep, while its rear slope is long and gentle.’ On the shores visited by such a wave, the sea would appear to rise more rapidly than it sank. We have seen that this happened on the shores of the Samoan group, and therefore the way in which the sea rose and fell on the days following the great earthquake gave significant evidence of the nature of the sea-bottom in the neighbourhood of these islands. As the change of the great wave’s figure could not have been quickly communicated, we may conclude with certainty that the Samoan Islands are the summits of lofty mountains, whose sloping sides extend far towards the east.

This conclusion affords interesting evidence of the necessity of observing even the seemingly trifling details of important phenomena.

The wave which visited the New Zealand Isles was altogether different in character, affording a noteworthy illustration of another remark of Mallet’s. He says that where the sea-bottom slopes in such a way that there is water of some depth close in-shore, the great wave may roll in and do little damage; and we have seen that so it happened in the case of the Samoan Islands. But he adds, that ‘where the shore is shelving, there will be first a retreat of the water, and then the wave will break upon the beach and roll far in upon the land.’ This is precisely what happened when the great wave reached the eastern shores of New Zealand, which are known to shelve down to very shallow water, continuing far away to sea towards the east:—

At about half-past three on the morning of August 14 the water began to retreat in a singular manner from the Port of Lyttelton, on the eastern shores of the southernmost of the New Zealand Islands. At length the whole port was left entirely dry, and so remained for about twenty minutes. Then the water was seen returning like a wall of foam ten or twelve feet in height, which rushed with a tremendous noise upon the port and town. Towards five o’clock the water again retired, very slowly as before, not reaching its lowest ebb until six. An hour later, a second huge wave inundated the port. Four times the sea retired and returned with great power at intervals of about two hours. Afterwards the oscillation of the water was less considerable, but it had not wholly ceased until August 17, and only on the 18th did the regular ebb and flow of the tide recommence.

Around the Samoan group the water rose and fell once in every fifteen minutes, while on the shores of New Zealand each oscillation lasted no less than two hours. Doubtless the different depths of water, the irregular conformation of the island groups, and other like circumstances, were principally concerned in producing these singular variations. Yet they do not seem fully sufficient to account for so wide a range of difference. Possibly a cause yet unnoticed may have had something to do with the peculiarity. In waves of such enormous extent, it would be quite impossible to determine whether the course of the wave-motion was directed full upon a line of shore or more or less obliquely. It is clear that in the former case the waves would seem to follow each other more swiftly than in the latter, even though there were no difference in their velocity.

Far on beyond the shores of New Zealand the great wave coursed, reaching at length the coast of Australia. At dawn of August 14, Moreton Bay was visited by five well-marked waves. At Newcastle, on the Hunter River, the sea rose and fell several times in a remarkable manner, the oscillatory motion commencing at half-past six in the morning. But the most significant evidence of the extent to which the sea-wave travelled in this direction was afforded at Port Fairy, Belfast, South Victoria. Here the oscillation of the water was distinctly perceived at midday on August 14; and yet, to reach this point, the sea-wave must not only have travelled on a circuitous course nearly equal in length to half the circumference of the earth, but must have passed through Bass’s Straits, between Australia and Van Diemen’s Land, and so have lost a considerable portion of its force and dimensions.

When we remember that had not the effects of the earth-shock been limited by the shores of South America, a wave of disturbance equal in extent to that which travelled westward would have swept towards the east, we see that the force of the shock was sufficient to have disturbed the waters of an ocean covering the whole surface of the earth. For the sea-waves which reached Yokohama in one direction and Port Fairy in another had each traversed a distance nearly equal to half the earth’s circumference; so that if the surface of the earth were all sea, waves setting out in opposite directions from the centre of disturbance would have met each other at the antipodes of their starting-point.

It is impossible to contemplate the effects which followed the great earthquake—the passage of a sea-wave of enormous volume over fully one-third of the earth’s surface, and the force with which, at the farthermost limits of its range, the wave rolled in upon shores more than 10,000 miles from its starting-place—without feeling that those geologists are right who deny that the subterranean forces of the earth are diminishing in intensity. It may be difficult, perhaps, to look on the effects which are ascribed to ancient earth-throes without imagining for a while that the power of modern earthquakes is altogether less. But when we consider fairly the share which time had in those ancient processes of change, when we see that while mountain ranges were being upheaved or valleys depressed to their present position, race after race and type after type appeared on the earth, and lived out the long lives which belong to races and to types, we are recalled to the remembrance of the great work which the earth’s subterranean forces are still engaged upon. Even now continents are being slowly depressed or upheaved, even now mountain ranges are being raised to a new level, table-lands are in process of formation, and great valleys are being gradually scooped out. It may need an occasional outburst such as the earthquake of August 1868 to remind us that great forces are at work beneath the earth’s surface. But, in reality, the signs of change have long been noted. Old shore-lines shift their place, old soundings vary; the sea advances in one place and retires in another; on every side Nature’s plastic hand is at work modelling and remodelling the earth, in order that it may always be a fit abode for those who are to dwell upon it.

(From Fraser’s Magazine, July 1870.)