Those who had saved any property were obliged to keep a constant watch, for thieves prowled about,* and at each little trembling of the ground, with one hand they beat their breasts and cried “misericordia!” and then with the other filched what they could from the ruins. The thatched roofs fell over the fires, and flames burst forth in all parts. Hundreds knew themselves ruined, and few had the means of providing food for the day.
Earthquakes alone are sufficient to destroy the prosperity of any country.* If beneath England the now inert subterranean forces should exert those powers which most assuredly in former geological ages they have exerted, how completely would the entire condition of the country be changed! What would become of the lofty houses, thickly packed cities, great manufactories, the beautiful public and private edifices? If the new period of disturbance were first to commence by some great earthquake in the dead of the night, how terrific would be the carnage! England would at once be bankrupt; all papers, records, and accounts would from that moment be lost. Government being unable to collect the taxes, and failing to maintain its authority, the hand of violence and rapine would remain uncontrolled. In every large town famine would go forth, pestilence and death following in its train.
* Robert Fitz-Roy acknowledged this was so in Talcahuano, but found neighbouring Concepcion rather better. “Much misery was alleviated by the good conduct and extreme hospitality of the inhabitants of Concepcion” he wrote. “Mutual assistance was every where rendered, and theft was almost unknown. The higher classes immediately set people to work, to build straw-covered huts and temporary houses of board, living meanwhile in the open air under trees. Those who soonest obtained or contrived shelter, collected as many about them as they could assist, and in a very few days all had a temporary shelter, under which they tried to laugh at their misfortunes and the shifts to which they were reduced.”
* The earthquake was only the beginning. Twice the tide was sucked far out, leaving ships aground; twice it roared back in, tossing and smashing everything in its path. “After some minutes of awful suspense,” Robert Fit-Roy went on, “a third enormous swell was seen between Quiriquina and the mainland, apparently larger than either of the two former. Roaring as it dashed against every obstacle with irresistible force, it rushed — destroying and overwhelming — along the shore. Quickly retiring, as if spurned by the foot of the hills, the retreating wave dragged away such quantities of household effects, fences, furniture, and other moveables, that after the tumultuous rush was over, the sea appeared to be covered with wreck. Earth and water trembled: and exhaustion appeared to follow these mighty efforts.”