possible for us to warn the people."

Nearer and nearer the whale was driven, while the captain of the ship
did his utmost to keep away so as not to be struck by the backwash.

At length, with a tremendous crash, the monster was flung by the
waves, which had increased to a great height, against the shore. Above
the shrieking of the wind could be heard the noise of falling
buildings and the wild cries of the people. A huge wave caught the
ship and carried it a mile out to sea and then whirled it back again
at a speed that made the crew hold their breath in awe.

It seemed certain that the vessel would be dashed to pieces on the
land, and the crew, with cries of warning and alarm, made haste to
lash themselves to the masts. The mighty wave swept over the land,
over the ruins of the towns, carrying the ship with it, and finally
deposited it among the trees of a dense forest a mile from the shore.

"At least we are safe for the present," said Rabba, when he had
recovered from the shock and the surprise. "We are more fortunate than
the poor people who have been overwhelmed by this strange disaster."

"I should like to know how I am going to get my ship back to the sea,"
said the captain. "I never heard of such a predicament before."

Rabba merely shrugged his shoulders, and with Ali he walked to the
shore. An extraordinary sight met their gaze. Thousands of people
were rushing madly to the forests. Everywhere was ruin and
desolation. All the towns along the coast, sixty in number they
learned afterward, had been destroyed by the stranding of the monster
and the tidal wave that followed, and what had not been leveled and
swept out to sea had been carried inland to the forests and beyond.
All along the coast, as far as the eye could see, lay the body of the
whale like a mountain range, and hundreds of people ran up and down,
weeping bitterly and wringing their hands.

Rabba gathered as many of them as he could together and addressed
them.

"Good people," he said, "ye are the victims of a terrible calamity
that has robbed you at one cruel blow of your homes, and many of you
of your families. But ye that have survived have duties to yourselves
and to the future. In this hour of grief, despair not. There lies the
fearful monster that has been your destruction. It shall also be your
salvation. Its body can supply you all with food. What you cannot eat,
you can salt and store for the future. Thousands of casks of oil can
b