"Tom--Tom!" I shouted, feeling about, for the darkness was fearful.
"Where are you?"
"All right, Mas'r Harry," was the reply; "close beside you."
"Here, give me your hand," I shouted, "and let's run down to the shore."
For in my horror that was the first place that occurred to me.
"Can't, sir," said Tom. "I ain't got no legs. Can't feel 'em about
there anywheres; can you?"
"What do you mean?" I cried. "This is no time for fooling! Look
sharp, or we shall lose our lives."
"Well, so I am looking sharp," growled Tom. "Ain't I looking for my
legs? I can't feel 'em nowheres. Oh, here they are, Mas'r Harry, here
they are!"
By this time I had crawled to him over the ruins of the house, to find
that he was jammed in amongst the rubbish, which rose to his knees; and,
as he told me afterwards, the shock had produced a horrible sensation,
just as if his legs had been taken off, a sensation heightened by the
fact that he could feel down to his knees and no farther.
"This is a pleasant spot to take a house on lease, Mas'r Harry," he
said, as I tore at the woodwork.
"Are you hurt?" I exclaimed hastily.
"Not as I knows on, Mas'r Harry, only my legs ain't got no feeling in
'em. Stop a minute, I think I can get that one out now."
We worked so hard, that at the end of a few minutes Tom was at liberty,
and after chafing his legs a little he was able to stand; but meanwhile
the horrors around were increasing every instant, and, to my excited
fancy, it seemed as if the earth was like some thick piece of carpet,
which was being made to undulate and pass in waves from side to side.
Dust everywhere--choking, palpable dust; and then as from afar off came
a faint roar, increasing each moment, till, with a furious rush, a
fierce wind came tearing through the ruins of the smitten town, sweeping
all before it, so that we had to cower down and seek protection from the
storm of earth, sand, dust, plaster, and fragments hurled against us by
the hurricane.
But the rush of wind was as brief as it was fierce, and it passed away;
when, in the lull that followed, came shrieks and moans from all
directions, and the sounds of hurrying, stumbling feet, and then, all at
once, from out of the thick darkness a voice cried: "Quick--quick! To
the mountain--the sea is coming in!"
Then came more wails and shrieks from out of the darkness, followed by a
silence that was more awful than the noise.
For full five minutes that silence lasted, broken only by the fall of
some tottering beam. Then came quickly, one after the other, short,
sharp, shivering vibrations of the earth beneath our feet--a shuddering
movement that was transferred to one's own frame; and then I began to
understand the meaning of the cry we had heard respecting the sea, for
from where I supposed it to be, now came a singular hissing, rushing
noise, gradually increasing to a roar, as of mighty waves, and mingled
with that roar there was the creaking and grinding together of shipping
and the hoarse shouting of the crews for help.
But gradually the noises ceased, save when a shuddering shock once more
made the earth to tremble beneath our feet, and some scrap of wood or
plaster to fall from riven wall or roof. The tremendous choking dust,
too, began to settle down as we groped our way along over the ruins that
choked the streets. Now we were lost--now, after a struggle, we
regained the way, trying to join one of the hurrying bands of fugitives
hastening from the place.
I spoke to one man, asking him if there was any more danger, but his
reply was in Spanish; and at last, led by Tom--who seemed by instinct to
know his way--we went down to the shore, strewn with wreck, when,
seizing a rope, and drawing a boat to the sand, Tom told me to enter,
and we half lay there, rising and falling upon the wave--rocked gently,
but wakeful ever, till the sun rose over the sea--bright, glorious, and
peaceful, as if there had been no havoc and desolation during the night.