The Ocean and its Wonders | Page 8

There was a great loss of life; many houses were washed into
the sea, and many junks carried up--one two miles inland--and dashed
to pieces on the shore. The day was beautifully fine, and no warning
was given of the approaching convulsion: the sea was perfectly smooth
when its surface was broken by the first wave."
Monster waves of this kind occur at regular intervals, among the
islands of the Pacific, once and sometimes twice in the year; and this
without any additional influence of an earthquake, at least in the
immediate neighbourhood of the islands, though it is quite possible that
earthquakes in some remote part of the world may have something to
do with these waves.
One such wave is described as breaking on one of these islands with
tremendous violence. It appeared at first like a dark line, or low cloud,
or fog-bank, on the sea-ward horizon. The day was fine though cloudy,
and a gentle breeze was blowing; but the sea was not rougher, or the
breaker on the coral reef that encircled the island higher, than usual. It
was supposed to be an approaching thunder-storm; but the line
gradually drew nearer without spreading upon the sky, as would have
been the case had it been a thunder-cloud. Still nearer it came, and soon
those on shore observed that it was moving swiftly towards the island;
but there was no sound until it reached the smaller islands out at sea.
As it passed these, a cloud of white foam encircled each and burst high
into the air. This appearance was soon followed by a loud roar, and it
became evident that the object was an enormous wave. When it
approached the outer reef, its awful magnitude became more evident. It
burst completely over the reef at all points, with a deep, continuous roar;

yet, although part of its force was thus broken, on it came, as if with
renewed might, and finally fell upon the beach with a crash that seemed
to shake the solid earth; then, rushing impetuously up into the woods, it
levelled the smaller trees and bushes in its headlong course; and, on
retiring, left a scene of wreck and desolation that is quite indescribable.
"Storm-waves," as those unusually gigantic billows are called, are said
to be the result of the removal of atmospheric pressure in certain parts
of the ocean over which a storm is raging. This removal of pressure
allows the portion thus relieved to be forced up high above the ordinary
sea-level by those other parts that are not so relieved.
The devastating effects of these storm-waves is still further illustrated
by the total destruction of Coringa, on the Coromandel Coast, in 1789.
During a hurricane, in December of that year, at the moment when a
high tide was at its highest point, and the north-west wind was blowing
with fury, accumulating the waters at the head of the bay, three
monstrous waves came rolling in from the sea upon the devoted town,
following each other at a short distance. The horror-stricken inhabitants
had scarcely time to note the fact of their approach, when the first wave,
sweeping everything in its passage, carried several feet of water into
the town. The second swept still further in its destructive course,
inundating all the low country. The third, rushing onward in irresistible
fury, overwhelmed everything, submerging the town and twenty
thousand of its inhabitants. Vessels at anchor at the mouth of the river
were carried inland; and the sea on retiring left heaps of sand and mud,
which rendered it a hopeless task either to search for the dead or for
buried property.
We have spoken of waves "travelling" at such and such a rate, but they
do not in reality travel at all. It is the undulation, or, so to speak, the
motion of a wave, that travels; in the same manner that a wave passes
from one end of a carpet to the other end when it is shaken. The water
remains stationary, excepting the spray and foam on the surface, and is
only possessed of a rising and sinking motion. This undulatory motion,
or impulse, is transmitted from each particle of water to its
neighbouring particle, until it reaches the last drop of water on the

shore. But when a wave reaches shallow water it has no longer room to
sink to its proper depth; hence the water composing it acquires actual
motion, and rushes to the land with more or less of the tremendous
violence that has been already described.
Waves are caused by wind, which first ruffles the surface of the sea
into ripples, and then, acting with ever-increasing power on the little
surfaces thus raised, blows them up into waves, and finally into great
billows. Sometimes, however, winds