The Peruvian battleship América, the fastest of its time, was still afloat, as was the American vessel Fredonia. The hull of the América, which had tried to get to open sea at the full speed of all its engines before the retreat of the sea, was now in dry land. At that moment the wave dragged her at high speed towards the shore while her chimneys were belching a column of thick black smoke. It looked as though it was rushing to the rescue of the severely damaged Fredonia, pushed into the Morro cliffs of Arica. Believing that those were her intentions, Commander Dyer of the Fredonia, ran to the bow of the boat and shouted to the battleship located only a few yards away: "There’s nothing you can do for us, our hull is broken!Save yourselves! Goodbye!” A moment later the Fredonia crashed against the cliff and no one was spared, while anothercurrent miraculously carried the Peruvian ship and pulled her in another direction.
The last rays of sun illuminated the Andes as we witnessed with horror that the graves on the slope of the sand mountain where ancient men had buried their dead had been opened, and now placed in concentric rows, as if in an amphitheatre, the mummies of the dead natives re-emerged to the surface. Having been buried facing the sea, they were strikingly well preserved thanks to the salt permeating through the soil. The violent quaking that had disrupted the dry and desert land had exposed a frightful city of the dead that had long been buried.
Words cannot begin to describe the terrifying spectacle of that scene. Traumatised by what we had just experienced, we thought the Day of Judgment had arrived and that Earth would disappear. The bitterness of such a horrifying death was more than we could have ever imagined.
Night had fallen long ago when the watchman shouted across the bridge that a tidal wave was approaching. We examined the darknessand perceived a faint phosphorescent dark line, like a strange mirage, that seemed to soar higher into the sky, its crest surmounted by the dingy light of a phosphorescent glow, revealing a sinister black body of water stirring beneath it. Announcing itself with the roar of thousands of thundersrumbling in unison, the tsunami we had feared for hours had finally arrived.
Of all the horrors, this seemed by far the worst. Chained to the bottom, unable to escape, having taken all precautions humanly possible, all we could do was stare at this monstrous waveas it neared us, there was nothing we could even do for moral support, nor could we hold onto the hope that the ship would pass through the mass of water moving to destroy us. The only thing left was to hang on to the rails and wait for the disaster.
In the midst of a terrifying roar, our boat was swallowed, buried under a semi-liquid, semi-solid mass of sand and water. We remained submerged lacking air for what seemed like an eternity. Then, her whole frame emitting a loud cry, our solid Wateree opened her way to the surface with her panting crew still clasping onto her railings. Some men were seriously injured but no one died and no one was missing. It had been a miracle which, I still find hard to believe.
Undoubtedly our survival was due to the line and the shape of the boat that had allowed the water to be drained fromthe bridge as fast as if it were a raft.
The ship had been transported at high speed and halted suddenly. After waiting a few minutes, we used a lamponly to confirm that we had run aground. We didn’t know where. Less violent waves kept on crashing against us, then everything stopped. For some time we remained at our posts, but as the boat lay still, the order was given to the exhausted crew to go to sleep.
The sun rose on a scene of desolation seldom seen before. We were aground, three miles from the place where we had anchored and two miles inland (about 3.5 kilometres). The wave had moved us at an amazing speed over the sand dunes bordering the ocean, through a valley and beyond the railroad tracks that lead to Bolivia, to abandon us at the foot of the Andes. It was there, on an almost vertical cliff, that we discovered the trail the tsunami wave, about 47 feet (15 meters), had left. If it would have continued to drag us another 60 feet, we would have crashed into the perpendicular wall of the mountain.
Near us lay the remains of an English three-master, the Channacelia. One of her anchor chains was wound around the ship as many times as its length had allowed it, thus proving that the ship had rolled on itself several times. A little further towards the sea, the battleship America was shattered, lying on one of its flanks.
The earthquakes continued for several days but none reached the violence or duration of the first. However, some were severe enough to shake the Wateree until making it vibrate like an old kettle so we were forced to abandon the ship and set up camp on the plateau 200 feet above. From there we could see the disastrous effect of the shocks on the topography. We found huge cracks in some places, one of which reached more than 100 feet wide (35 meters) and unknown depths. Others were nothing more than simple cracks and fissures. Here and there we found evidence of the desperation of the people during their flight - I remember, for example, the body of a woman riding on a dead horse, the two having been swallowed by the earth while trying to flee.
The city itself had disappeared and in its placed there was a stretch of sand. Besides the neighbourhoodsadjacent to the mountain, there was not a single house that would indicatethat Arica had once existed there. All the buildings made with soft walls, called "adobes" had been destroyed by the sea. In the neighbourhoodsthat had been located below the level reached by the water, we walked over a horrible pile of all sorts of blended things, including bodies under a height of 20 or 30 feet.
Of the ten or fifteen thousand inhabitants who lived in Arica, only a few hundred unfortunate souls survived. During the three long weeks we waited for the arrival of assistance, we shared with them the supplies and drinking water from the Wateree. I could not possibly describe our joy when the old frigate Powhatan of the United States Navy finally appeared on the baywith the bridge overloaded with all sorts of provisions and food possible.
This is the official story of L. G. Billings, of the US-flagged ship Wateree which, along with the Fredonia, the Peruvian battleship América and a dozen other boats were anchored in the harbour of Arica, then under Peruvian rule, the evening of August 8, 1868, date on which every single century of the existence of the then flourishing city, the force of an earthquake and tsunami had destroyed almost everything that had been built earlier. Only the twentieth century has avoided, to date, a catastrophe of such serious consequences in that northern city, now Chilean since 1879. Extracted from The Chilean earthquakesby Patrico Manns. Edit. Quimantú, 1972 Santiago de Chile.
The Relic
ELIAS was walking on the footpath on his way home, when quite far, in the proximity of his house, he noticed two men walking towards him, one leaning on the other as one of them seemed to have an injury on his leg. As he approached, Elías recognised his neighbour León, on whom the other man leaned onto. He came closer and heard Leon's voice saying to him:
-Neighbour! Neighbour! Come here for a minute!
Elías went to see what León wanted. Although he had heard León yelling at his family many times, he always thought he was a good person and was sure that if life hadn’t been so tough on him, he wouldn’t have all these problems now. When he approached the two men, the one leaning on León showed him a shotgun he was hiding with his hand behind his back and pointing it to Elias said:
-¡U, u upppppp!
Cagalubias stammered pointing at León’s house, while the sound of police sirens approaching could be heard in the background.
Cagalubias walked on one leg, blood gushing endlessly from his foot. The two men, and Elías now a hostage, entered León’s house. It looked as though it was abandoned. There was no furniture and it was full of dirt, the electricity was not working, the smell was nauseating as if someone had left food in the fridge long ago. They had just entered the house, when they heard thesound of a police siren. Cagalubias carefully approached the window, leaning sideways against the frame, before quickly peeking to see what was happening outside. There he was again, that indestructible policeman, the same police on his motorcycle or ra
ther on what was left of it.
The man dismounted his bike and leaned it on itsrestbut thishad been so badly damaged that shortly after releasing the bike, it wobbled and fell onto the ground, losing a lot of parts and making a clanking sound similar to a handful of nuts and bolts being dropped on thefloor. The policeman did not flinch. He pressed the communication button on the radio attached to his jacket and called for reinforcements but instead of waiting for them to arrive, he prepared to enter the house on his own completely unruffled by the situation. However, as he climbed the steps leading to the porch, Cagalubias pulled the gun barrel through the small space left by the security chain between the door and the frame. The policeman saw the barrel of the gun and immediately dropped to the ground. Cagalubias opened fire on him, hurling shots over the agent who then quickly crawled over the garden to hide behind what was left of his motorcycle.
'I ha have hos hostages, so don’t try to play hero again or I’ll pai pai paint the walls of the house with their brains, - said Cagalubias shouting through the opening in the door and slamming it right after.
Then,there began a fine drizzle that quickly covered the window panes withthin droplets. Soon the rain became heavier and after a few brief instants, it began to fall with incredible strength. The police reinforcements arrived and the cars formed a trench behind which the policemen took cover. The agent informed his colleagues about the situation.
Inside the house León and Cagalubias argued loudly, and although Cagalubias was holding the sawed-off shotgun, León pounced on him and went from word to blows. León harshly slapped his face with an open hand and Cagalubias received them the best he could. Finally he used his shotgun to fire at the ceiling and point at León’s head.
-To to to the ground! If if if you try it again I’d spread that small brain you have inside your head all all all over the ground - Cagalubias shouted to León, the veins in his neck about to burst with anger, and his face blood red after the smacks León had landed him.
The rain kept on getting heavier. It’s funny how quickly you lose track of time when it rains. You can spend hours watching the water falling through the windows, and completely lose track of time, not remembering when or what day it started raining, as if the world had always been like that, as if sunny days had never existed.
The men did not stop arguing. I remained in a corner next to the little furniture that was left, a sort of table with something big on top, all covered with a sheet. I always thought of myself as a coward because although in many occasions it might have seemed otherwise, this time I didn’t do any of the heroic things that most of the protagonists of a film would do. I was not afraid, I was serene and calm, but I was not able to face this deranged man. Perhaps our brain assesses the situation and decides that the best option is not to act. The house was surrounded by police, something thatdidn’t give me a lot of peace of mind because I knew it could cause the deranged man to make the wrong decision.
Meanwhile outside, the police demanded to speak to the kidnappers over the megaphone. Cagalubias kept on talking to himself, he had gone completely mad, lost his sanity and kept mumbling and thinking aloud. Finally, he agreed to talk to the policemen, saying through the door opening that he had two hostages and that he would kill them if they did not agree to his demands. The police negotiator told him over the speaker that everything would be alright, that he just needed to let them know what he wanted and he himself would take care of it. Then the kidnapper began to pace up and down the room, ponderingabout what he was going to ask for. Finally, his eyes lit up for a moment and he then rushed to show his face through the opening left between the chained door and its frame.
I I I want a mi mi million in s s small notes in in inside a sports bag, and and he he helicopter with a full ta tank.
Please, can you ask for real things that I can actually get for you? - said the police negotiator.
This this very moment I kill o o one of the hos hostages, and if you do do don’t take me se seriously, I’ll kill the o other.
We're cops, where are we going to get a million in small bills and a helicopter?
And, why the fu fuck should I care? - Cagalubias said, opening fire as on the police negotiator, hitting him in the megaphone and making it fly out of his hands?Immediately the other agents moved to initiate the assault on the home, but the chief of police, the man who acted as negotiator ordered them to wait.
Cool off fellows, let’s not make a mistake, it's just a poor devil, we will have our chance.
A policeman pulled another megaphone from one of the vehicles, reached down to the chief and gave it to him.
It’s all good, let’s not panic, we’ll request for what you have asked for by radio, but we need a proof of your good will by releasing one of the hostages.
The only ho ho hostage you are going to see if you don’t gi give me what I want, you’ll have to to to pick him up his sca scattered pieces with tweezersfrom around the damn ho ho house - said the kidnapper again through the opening in the door, and then he slammed the door. But this time, he slammed on his own hand.
The pain was unbearable. Tears rushed from his eyes and he had to put his fingers in his mouth to cool the heat he was feeling which was comparable to dipping a hand intoboiling water. He had even partially lost some of his nails. He quickly looked for something to bandage his hand with but all he found in the house was a sheet that was covering an object in the corner of the room. So without even thinking twice, he pulled the sheet to tear a piece and make some sort of bandage for his hand. As he yanked the sheet, the object that was covered by it staggered and fell- it was a clay statue of human shapethat looked like some kind of very old virgin. The head, attached to the body with an old tape, rolled over on the floor. At that very moment Elías fainted and remained unconscious on the ground.
A lightning lit up the entire house, as though it was the powerful flash of a camera. The storm worsened and the rain poured from all directions. The policemen began to worry because the situation was worsening to the point that it became really alarming. The radio messages confirmed that disasters were happening all over the city and they suddenly realised that their families could be in trouble.
Captain, I think we're not in the right place. If a couple of junkies decide to kill each other, then there’ll be fewer problems for everyone else in the city - said one of the officers to the man holding the megaphone.
Some lasted longer than others but the news being broadcast by theradio made most of them leave to rescue their own families. At the end, there were two officers left - the captain and the rider.
Captain, I think you’d better leave now that you still have a chance. The city is being destroyed by the storm and criminals like these two are roaming freely everywhere, plus your family may need you.
Maybe you're right, arresting a single criminal might not solve anything, but it's my job and it’s also all I have.
The man began to speak again over the megaphone, and addressing the kidnapper he said:
- This is the situation -right now it doesn’t matter what crimes you’ve committed, soon we won’t be able to pull our heads out of the water.
- Stop the non non nonsense and bring my cho chopper.
- Son, there’s no helicopter or plane that can fly with this storm, even driving is impossible.
- No, no, I don’t want to hear your st st stories.
- Listen to me, I'll put the news on the radio over the PA.
The captain turned the volume of the radio up and neared the megaphone to the speaker so that he could hear all the announcements.
They repeatedly spoke of the situation in the country and around the world. There were natural disasters of all sorts happening all over the planet and the forecast was not encouraging. The whole world was being shaken by a cataclysm. Some channels spoke of the Apocalypse, others blamed the greed of men, their obsession with wealth for consuming the planet's reserves and ignoring the deterioration that ensued. There was always a qui
et understanding that future generations would bear all the pain, that only many years from now the planet would say enough. But we were all wrong and now all its wealth was exhausted.
Elías continued lying on the ground. For a moment it seemed that he was dead or in a coma, but now he was having continuous convulsions and foaming at the mouth, as if he werehaving an epileptic seizure. A loud hum was heard throughout the house. It was a sound that seemed to come from inside the relic which, remained lying on the floor next to Elías.
- We've got to call an ambulance or this guy is going to die! -cried León.
-So if he di dies, even be better, I’ll save the a a ammo - replied Cagalubias.
The situation was getting very ugly. Night was falling and it kept on pouring. The police men outside had the water to their knees, although this didn’t seem to worry them at all. The image was almost surreal–the officers were trying to take shelter from the rain while behind the car but the water level had risen so much that they were forced to hold onto the vehicle with their hands so that it wouldn’t float away with the current.
The Relic Page 14
