Suppose, as the earthquake shock ran on, making the earth under the sea heave and fall in long earth-waves, the sea-bottom sank down.  Then the water on it would sink down too, and leave the shore dry; till the sea-bottom rose again, and hurled the water up again against the land.  This is one way of explaining it, and it may be true.  For certain it is, that earthquakes do move the bottom of the sea; and certain, too, that they move the water of the sea also, and with tremendous force.  For ships at sea during an earthquake feel such a blow from it (though it does them no harm) that the sailors often rush upon deck fancying that they have struck upon a rock; and the force which could give a ship, floating in water, such a blow as that, would be strong enough to hurl thousands of tons of water up the beach, and on to the land.

But there is another way of accounting for this great sea wave, which I fancy comes true sometimes.

Suppose you put an empty india-rubber ball into water, and then blow into it through a pipe.  Of course, you know, as the ball filled, the upper side of it would rise out of the water.  Now, suppose there were a party of little ants moving about upon that ball, and fancying it a great island, or perhaps the whole world—­what would they think of the ball’s filling and growing bigger?

If they could see the sides of the basin or tub in which the ball was, and were sure that they did not move, then they would soon judge by them that they themselves were moving, and that the ball was rising out of the water.  But if the ants were so short-sighted that they could not see the sides of the basin, they would be apt to make a mistake, because they would then be like men on an island out of sight of any other land.  Then it would be impossible further to tell whether they were moving up, or whether the water was moving down; whether their ball was rising out of the water, or the water was sinking away from the ball.  They would probably say, “The water is sinking and leaving the ball dry.”

Do you understand that?  Then think what would happen if you pricked a hole in the ball.  The air inside would come hissing out, and the ball would sink again into the water.  But the ants would probably fancy the very opposite.  Their little heads would be full of the notion that the ball was solid and could not move, just as our heads are full of the notion that the earth is solid and cannot move; and they would say, “Ah! here is the water rising again.”  Just so, I believe, when the sea seems to ebb away during the earthquake, the land is really being raised out of the sea, hundreds of miles of coast, perhaps, or a whole island, at once, by the force of the steam and gas imprisoned under the ground.  That steam stretches and strains the solid rocks below, till they can bear no more, and snap, and crack, with frightful roar and clang; then out of holes and chasms in the ground rush steam, gases—­often foul and poisonous ones—­hot water, mud, flame, strange stones—­all signs that the great boiler down below has burst at last.