Unparalleled Bombardment of Waves—Wonderful Courage Shown by the
Survivors—Letter From Clara Barton.
A visitor to Galveston thus gives his impressions on the 12th day after
the great flood:
“For two days after the great catastrophe, the people of the city of
Galveston were stunned. They seem to be dazed. It is a remarkable thing
that there were no signs of outward grief in the way of tears and groans
to mark the misery that raged in the breasts of the people. Only when
some person who was thought to have been dead, appeared to a relative
living who had mourned for him or her, were there any tears. There was a
callousness about all this that attracted the attention of those who had
just come to the unfortunate place. There was a stoicism in it. But it
was unexplainable. It indicated no lack of appreciation of what had
occurred.
“It demonstrated no lack of affection for those who had gone. Nature,
generous in this instance, came to their relief in a way and made them
dull to the seriousness of what had occurred, to an extent which
prevented them from becoming maniacs. For, if the grief which comes to a
mortal when he loses a dear one, had come to this whole community, the
island would have been filled with raving maniacs. In case of individual
losses, there is always some one near to give consolation. Had the grief
came to the whole island, there could have been no consolation, for
every soul on it had lost in some way that which was dear to it.
“‘The case is just like the afterthoughts of those who have participated
in a great battle,’ said an old soldier to me. ‘If a popular man was
lost on the picket line, there were tears for him, but when the time
came for all to be mowed down, the horror of it dulled the sensibilities
of those who survived.’
“I was talking to an estimable and bright woman on the subject. She had
lost members of her family, though not immediate ones. She said to me:
‘I study myself and am overcome at myself. I know what has happened. I
know the losses. I have lost some of the members of my family, though
they are not blood kin. I have lost the dearest friends of my life. And
yet I have not shed a tear. My eyes are hot. I would give anything to
cry, but it looks as if the fountains were dried. I am ashamed of my
seeming indifference to this horrible thing and the loss of those who
were so dear to me. But I cannot cry. I know that I suffer, but it looks
so cruel to sit here with dry eyes and without any other evidence of the
deep sorrow that fills my bosom.’
“I talked to one man and asked him how many people he had lost. He had
saved his daughter and her child. All the rest, amounting to three
souls, were gone. But they were dry. He spoke in a low voice, but it did
not tremble. He was agonized—I saw that—but his mind was unable to grasp
the true meaning of his loss, and when he had finished he asked if I had
a match about me.”
THE SAME BELL.
“Up to Thursday night there had been no sleep in the city. True,
exhausted nature had thrown men and women and children on their beds and
they had closed their eyes and the physical strain had been to some
degree relieved, but the mental strain was still at the breaking point.
One man said that on Thursday morning he was awakened by the convent
bell summoning the living to mass. It was the same bell that had rung or
tinkled in the tone since the day of the storm.
“He bounded from his bed a new man. He was hopeless the day before. He
had seriously thought of abandoning his house, which he believed beyond
repair, but when he looked at it on Thursday morning it did not look so
badly. He resolved to fight it out. He went and found others like
himself—resolved to fight it out.
“Thursday night’s sleep made the people a new people. The difference in
their look and deportment from that of the day before was observed by
everyone. The streets were filled with them, when on the day before the
streets were silent of all except those who had the horrible work of
taking care of the dead on their shoulders. Now women could be seen
talking to women. They met on the corners in the residence portion of
the town and told their adventures. The men began to discuss the future.
By 10 o’clock the town was up and buoyant. The effect of that one
night’s sleep was marvelous. There was no longer any talk of abandoning
the town. Galveston should be greater than Galveston had ever been. That
was on the lips of everyone.
GALVESTON SAFER THAN EVER.
“On Friday I would not have given $10 for the place. On Thursday I would
have given more for a lot than I would have given before the deluge and
storm. Why? Because the pluck of the people came out through that night
of rest. Galveston should be greater than it had ever been. That is what
they said. Galveston was safer than before by the island’s weathering
such a storm. That is what they said, too. They began to talk of their
own pluck. We have stood so much, but the world will say that we stood
it well. If we can do as we have done in such a trial, what can not we
do in the battle of life? Galveston shall be rebuilt.
“Galveston shall be the greatest of towns. Hurrah for Galveston! Thus
they talked and went about their work of throwing up breastworks against
disease by cleaning the town. Thousands of the people, negroes as well
as whites, went about the work of burning the dead and cleaning away the
debris. They asked nothing about wages, even those who had no property.
They had begun the fight. It was evident that they intended to keep it
up. The cold, calculating speculator would have had something to study
over if he had seen these people as I saw them the day after their one
night’s rest. Well, there was nothing wild in their determination. The
island has not a break in it.
“There is a story of millions of feet being torn from it and cast into
the sea. This story may be true if applied to some part of the island
which I did not visit. But where I went it is not true. There was
erosion. That was to be expected. Erosion would have come from a far
less storm than this. I have seen a common “rise” on the Ohio River
carry away more dirt than this storm carried from Galveston Island into
the Gulf. The people of the interior know where the old Beach Hotel
stood.
“They know where the chimney of that house was built. They know how far
it was from the beach. They will understand the work of erosion. I
stated that the brick of that chimney is not in the water. The piling on
which the hotel was built are in some places in the water. In fact,
according to my observation, the erosion at this point has not been
above 300 feet. I went to the east end of the town and to the west end
of it. The destruction of the island is no greater anywhere that I saw
than at the location of the hotel mentioned.
PREDICTIONS OF DISASTER.
“For years and years people have said that when the right kind of storm
came the island would sink under it or be washed away like a house of
cards in a flood. It was supposed that the great currents which would
rush across the island would dig bayous as deep as the bay. These would
grow in width, and finally the great island would be cut into small
ones, if it did not disappear beneath the waves. But the result of this
greatest storm on record? Why, there is not, as far as I could hear, and
I made inquiries, a single excavation made from the Gulf to the bay or
the bay to the Gulf. The island stands there in all things, except in
the matter of the erosion mentioned, as stable and firm as it has ever
been since man knew it. That is enough. The foundation is there. Man can
do most any thing with a proper foundation.
“The only need now is stable and the right kind of houses. The old
houses seem to have stood the shock better than the new ones. The reason
of this is apparent. The old ones were built with an eye to storms. The
new ones were built in book times. One young fellow told me that his
house, the one in which he was born, had stood the storm of 1875 and
every storm since that time without a quiver.
“‘And it would have stood this one had it not been for one thing,’ he
said. ‘That thing was the outward flow of the tide when the storm was
over. The water rushed back to the sea like a torrent. It fell over a
foot and a half in fifteen minutes, and as it went out it swept many a
house from its foundations.’ This flow, running like a torrent, swept
across the island, and yet there was not left a single evidence in the
way of excavations of it going.
“FOUNDED ON A ROCK.”
“Attention was attracted to the house of Mr. J. H. Hawley, the brother
of Congressman Hawley. He bought the property from an engineer who lived
in Galveston some time about the flood of ’96. He said he would build
him a house which would stand. He placed the foundations on an iron
fence two feet in the ground. This foundation was of brick. In this
foundation he placed the railing of the iron fence running up three
feet. At the top he placed filagree brick work. His house was braced
well and the timbers were heavy and well put together. The storm did not
phase it.
“The fence acted as a barrier to timbers from the houses which had been
destroyed. It kept away the battering rams with which the waves
assaulted all places. When the night’s horrors were at an end the house
stood intact. Even the cistern, which was on piling, stood the test and
was uninjured. Now the Galveston people begin to consider the question
of whether much was not their fault in that their structures were not of
the kind that should have been built, when storms were sure to come.
“It is just such things as this that give them hope. As I have said, I
despaired of the town when I walked among the dead bodies and saw the
destruction on every side. But like the rest I got over this depression.
I caught the infection of the new life when it came. I know that I speak
the truth when I say that the life in Galveston now is capable of
upbuilding the town, and building it better in every way than it ever
was. Millions of dollars are invested in enterprises in the town. The
men who have lost thousands, not to say millions, will not permit the
rest to go without a struggle.
“The railroads running into the place and depending on the thirty feet
of deep water, which is said now to exist in the channel, for export of
the freight, will not agree to abandon the port, the only one of such
depth for thousands of miles. Cotton factors in all the world, who look
to this port for their supplies, will not abandon it. The monetary
interest in the city of itself would save it even if the people were not
so full of heart as they are. But above this, the poor people and the
working classes have no where else to go. With many of them, it is too
late in life to begin it anew. It is too late for them to build up
acquaintances again. They have lost their houses, but the lots on which
the houses were located are there.
EXTRAORDINARY PUBLIC CHARITY.
“Subscriptions to the amount of perhaps $2,000,000 have poured in for
their relief. The well-to-do Galvestonian is determined that this relief
shall go to those who are poor, that they may to some extent repair
their fortunes. The rich themselves will build. In a month from now
every man in the place will have all the labor he can perform. Every
person will be busy. The work of upbuilding will in some measure rub out
the recollection of the horrors of the storm. The Huntington estate will
continue its work. Bridges of the very first class will span the waters
between the island and the mainland. If great corporations can risk
their money, as they are determined to do, why shall not a poor man risk
his labor to build another house on the lot he owned?
“Why, even behind the business and necessitous phases of the matter,
there rises a sentiment among the people. That sentiment is that we will
show the world the stuff that Galveston people are made of. Galveston is
all right. The storm could not kill her, though it wounded her to the
death almost. There is pluck there. There is pride there. There is money
there. And, above all, there are recollections there for the
Galvestonian, and he will not be downed by wind and wave. Mark that.”
Galveston, Tex., Sept. 18.—It would be somewhat difficult just now to
give an answer to the question: “What is new in the situation at
Galveston?” The situation has resolved itself into a routine of hard and
systematic work which presents no features of special or startling
interest, and which will, in the end, have the effect of showing what a
stricken people can accomplish in the face of a fearful calamity if they
go about their work in the proper manner.
Generally speaking, conditions are improved at every point. The various
committees continue to carry out the tasks they have in hand, and on all
sides progress which would not have been thought possible is being made.
Business concerns are resuming business or making every possible effort
toward that end. Wherever possible, buildings are being repaired, at
least to an extent which will protect their contents from the elements.
Roofs are being replaced with temporary shields against the wind and
rain, panes of glass are being placed in the frames which were destroyed
by the storm, and stores are being cleaned out and the damaged goods
they contain exposed to the sun and wind in order to dry them and thus
minimize the damage done.
RAIN ADDS TO THE SUFFERING.
Early this morning there was a sharp shower of rain—the first since the
storm—which, while it lasted but a few minutes, showed how absolutely
necessary it is to get the buildings of the town in something like their
normal condition as soon as possible. In the Tremont Hotel, the rain
over a part of which is the office, came in in many places—through parts
of the roof itself, through the broken skylight and through the empty
window panes. Out in the residence portion of the town the rainfall
undoubtedly caused at least a great amount of discomfort, for hundreds
of houses which were not absolutely uninhabitable during the prevalence
of fair weather were drenched and deluged, and the weary and heartsick
people they sheltered were rendered all the more miserable.
It must be understood in this connection that while the work of
repairing and making proof against the elements the building of the city
is a very important feature of the situation, the matter of cleaning up
the debris and disposing of the dead bodies therein is paramount on
account of the danger which might result to the public health were this
work not done as rapidly as possible.
Right here it should be said that, all reports to the contrary
notwithstanding, there is at present practically no likelihood whatever
that anything like an epidemic will result from the presence of
decomposing bodies and the deposits made by the water during the storm.
This is perhaps a broad statement, but it is one which is backed by all
of the eminent medical authorities of the city, who are certainly in a
position to know if any one is.
DISINFECTING THE CITY.
Satisfactory progress is being made in the work of removing the
offending matter, and a large amount of disinfectants of various sorts
is being used where it will do the most good. The fear of an epidemic is
one which has probably caused a great deal of uneasiness among the
people who have friends and relatives still in the city, but from the
standpoint of a layman, who has formed his opinion largely from
investigation and from physicians who are interested in the work of
caring for the health of the city, it may be stated, without any
reservations whatever that the possibility of the prevalence in the
future of any malignant disease is very remote indeed. Those interested
may well set their fears on this score at rest.
The progress that has been made in securing a correct list of the dead
is something wonderful, considering all the circumstances. Debris is
being removed in all parts of the town and many more bodies were burned
to-day. There are places here, however, which the workers have been
unable to reach. Unless he goes into the mass of debris he can not
imagine a condition equal to that which exists. There are places where
the wreckage is piled so high and is in such an entangled mass that the
workers will have great difficulty in getting it cleared away. There are
some places where timber enough is stacked in a confused heap which is
of quantity sufficient to stock a good-sized lumber yard. Houses have
been torn limb from limb, as it were, and from beneath the unexplored
depths of these places more bodies will be found.
Dr. J. Wilkes O’Neill, of Philadelphia, Secretary of the Associate
Society of the Red Cross, received a letter from President Clara Barton,
dated Galveston, September 19, in which she says:
CLARA BARTON’S LETTER.
“The conditions here are as much as you will gather from what you have
read. Like some other fields that we have visited, it does not admit of
exaggeration. One can scarcely imagine how it could have been worse, and
yet one sees the city full of people left alive; but when we think of
the hundreds, and it may be even thousands, lying buried and decaying in
great heaps of debris stretched for miles along the edge of what was
once a town, it is hard to conjecture anything worse.
“Supplies are coming in from all sides. Of course, disinfectants were
the first thought, to protect the living against the dead. All that can
be done by the purification of fire is being done, the pyres of human
sacrifice are burning day and night. I have never had any fears of an
epidemic. We have in all our experience, you will remember, never known
an epidemic to follow a flood. There will, I believe, be no pestilence
here.
“There is a portion of the town containing business houses, which, while
being terribly damaged, stood upright, and stores with their valuable
contents were entirely submerged. The streets are filled with elegant
goods, drying off, and it will be most reasonable charity to buy these
of the merchants at the prices put on them—which are scarcely half—in
preference to using first those that are sent, until these dealers are
relieved in a measure.
“Every accommodation which the city can afford was placed at our
disposal. A large warehouse is being fitted to-day ready to receive the
carloads of goods on the way. Every official, from the highest to the
least, calls to know what the Red Cross needs, and how it can be served.
The grateful confidence with which they approach us, or even speak the
name, makes one humble, filled with the fear that we will fail to
justify the fullness of the confidence and hope that is offered.
“There seems to be an unusually large number of children with no one to
care for them or who knows them. There are five or six hundred of these,
it is stated, gathered in the houses of the poor, overburdened with
their own wants, and yet cannot see another child suffer. We will help
them as far as possible, gather them in, and the world will give them
homes. It requires great calamities to show how generous and great are
the hearts of the people of the land.
GUARDING AGAINST FUTURE DESTRUCTION.
“This city will be built up again, probably finer than before—and it was
a fine city always—but I hope never without a protection from the
storms. It is criminal to allow people perfectly unsuspecting to settle
themselves and live on territory, however beautiful, that is morally
certain at some evil moment of destruction. If Galveston is worth the
possession that it is and has been to our country, it is worth its
protection; therefore we shall see that it shall not fail to implore of
the government that it give work to its men and security to its
inhabitants by a sea wall, which shall render it almost safe.”
On September 20th we find this tragic recital:
“The storm has claimed another victim, and another soul that passed
through that night of nights has gone to its reward. In chronicling the
death of Miss Clara Olsen, another pathetic chapter is added to the
thrilling tale of horrors which will never be told in its entirety. Miss
Olsen, who was a graduate of the Ursuline Academy, and a most estimable
young lady, lived with her aged mother on Twenty-seventh street, near
the Ursuline Convent. When the storm rose to its height, and their
humble home succumbed to the destructive elements, mother and daughter
were thrown out into the surging waters.
“With one hand firmly grasping her mother, the young lady bravely
struggled against the wind and sea. At last the branches of a large tree
were sighted above the raging torrent, and mother and daughter exerted
their fast failing energies to reach the luring tree top. As the two
weary creatures neared the haven, the daughter reached with one hand to
grab a swaying branch. She missed it and was carried backward by the
wind. Another attempt and she secured a hold, but her mother had been
torn from her embrace by the sea, and was swept to her death beneath the
waters.
LODGED IN A LARGE OAK.
“In the early hours of the morning a rescuing party found the almost
lifeless form of the young lady resting in the tangled branches of the
large oak. She was carried to the home of friends and recovered from the
shock. But the thoughts of her mother’s tragic death, and the strange
feeling that she was responsible for it, weighed heavily on her heart
and mind. The haunted thoughts racked her brain and slowly undermined
her failing health until the end came, when the broken-hearted and weary
spirit responded to death’s sweet sleep. ‘Mother’s in heaven and I’ll
soon be with her,’ were the last words whispered by the girl.”
The work of clearing the streets and the city in general progresses with
surprising rapidity and systematic thoroughness. Street after street is
being cleared up and the wreckage being stacked away. In accordance with
an order from military headquarters, a new plan has been inaugurated in
removing debris. Instead of removing the debris and throwing it to one
side to remove the dead, it is ordered that the ridge of wreckage along
the beach be separated into two piles. The first pile removed is to be
stacked out near the beach, where it can be fired and consumed. The
bodies found are to be disposed of on pyres placed at convenient
intervals between the two piles of debris. The second pile will be fired
separately.
Military law has had a wonderful effect in placing the operations of all
classes of work under one head, and the work of this general
headquarters has won the highest commendation from the good citizens.
Every ward has its supervisor, who reports daily all work done in his
respective ward, files complaints, makes suggestions, and, in fact,
keeps the general headquarters informed on all matters pertaining to the
management of his district.
The ward supervisor has in charge a number of foremen, who in turn are
in charge of gangs of workmen numbering from ten to twenty men. General
Scurry holds the ward chairmen responsible for their districts, and the
chairmen hold their foremen accountable for the actions of their gangs
of laborers. Every department and branch of public service is under
control of Brigadier General Scurry, who is ably assisted by Adjutant
General McCaleb, Assistant Adjutant Reid and a score or more of
efficient clerks and stenographers. At headquarters is a busy place.
There all complaints, all reports, all requisitions and all operations
of the military force of over 200 soldiers are filed and made note of.
FLOOD OF TELEGRAMS.
Every class of work has its corps of officers and clerks and every
communication or record is carefully filed in the proper place. Hundreds
of telegraphic messages are received and answered every day. Orders are
promulgated and duplicate copies distributed around the city and a
thousand and one matters must be attended to and all of them require
prompt action and attention.
General McCaleb, who is in touch with the pulse of the community by
reason of his office and who is familiar with the detailed operations of
the military department, stated that Galveston was recovering amazingly
from the calamity, and that it could be stated as a fact that in three
or four days the city will have resumed normal conditions.
“This department has accomplished a great deal, and to the several
hundred men who have devoted their time and attention to the city’s
welfare too much credit cannot be given,” said he. “It is astonishing to
note the spirit of the people of Galveston and the manner in which they
go about the work of restoring the city. We have had no serious trouble
either in having to impress men into service or in keeping the lawless
element under control. Considering the condition of affairs, the city
has been unusually orderly and very few arrests have been made of a
serious nature. I have tried but five cases since the establishment of
martial law, and that tells the story of how the law is being
respected.”
A MARVEL OF BRIDGE BUILDING.
The construction of the bridge across Galveston bay has been a marvel of
hustling, and the dispatch with which it has been done reflects the
indomitable energy, good judgment and skill of the men who had it in
charge. The work was not started on the bridge until Thursday of last
week, because the material could not be gotten to the place, but when it
was started Vice President Barr and General Superintendent Nixon said:
“We will run trains into Galveston next Thursday.” Not many people
expected that they could make good the promise, and almost everybody
said they would be satisfied if the trains came within a fortnight. But
the men who directed the work said that trains would cross on Thursday,
and they stuck to it.
No work was ever beset by such difficulties as the work of restoring the
tracks on the island and the mainland and the building of the bridge.
The men on the track had to bury dead humans and animals, strewn by the
hundreds over the prairies. They toiled in mud and water under a blazing
sun. They had to remove hundreds of wrecked cars and twisted and tangled
steel rails. They worked in the stench of dead flesh and the horrible
odor of rotting grain and other wreckage. They built the track over a
wreck-strewn prairie torn by the angry sea. It was difficult to get
supplies to them and difficult also to get material.
The men who rebuilt the bridge worked the first day without dinner. It
was difficult to get boats light enough in draft to bring provisions or
materials or pile drivers to Virginia Point. When the boarding camp was
pitched it stood in a new made cemetery, where hundreds of victims of
the storm lay unidentified, unshrouded and uncoffined.
For the first four days after construction was commenced, the bridge
timbers were rafted down Highland bayou and West bay, a distance of
seven miles, to Virginia Point. When the track on the mainland had been
restored to Virginia Point, the delivery of material by rail began. The
storm swept away most of the pile drivers around Galveston. One marine
driver was sent out and put to work on Sunday closing the gaps
aggregating about 1000 feet of trestlework, where the piling had been
carried away. The next day another marine driver was sent out, and
Assistant Engineer Boschke, of the Southern Pacific, built two skid
drivers and sent them out to the work.
GETTING THE TRACKS READY.
When a reporter was at the island end of the bridge, at 9.30 o’clock
yesterday morning, the Santa Fe track at the island had just been
completed. The steel laying gang on the bridge was about a mile from
shore, with the stringer gangs about half that distance away. The caps
were laid up all the way to the shore. The Santa Fe has some pretty
rough tracks for a short distance this side of the bridge, but the track
through the west yards is in good condition and in fair condition the
rest of the way in.
The Galveston, Houston and Henderson Railroad completed its island track
to a connection with the Santa Fe at the bridge yesterday forenoon, and
the Southern Pacific folks expected to complete their track last night.
The Southern Pacific track is in very good condition. It has been
rebuilt under the direction of Mr. E. K. Nichols, the agent of the
company at this point. Nearly all the material used was gathered up from
the prairie, some of it having been washed several hundred feet away.
The work was delayed by a large number of wrecked cars. There was no
wrecking outfit to be had in the city, and it was necessary to remove
the wreckage by slow processes.
The Southern Pacific had about 200 cars in its west yard loaded with
grain, cotton and merchandise. The yard was terribly swept and many of
the cars wrecked, some of them being washed nearly a quarter of a mile
away. The new double-track railroad of the Southern Pacific, near the
bay shore, was torn to pieces.
Bradstreet’s weekly report commented on the great calamity as follows:
“Galveston was flooded by one of the tropical storms which from time to
time vex the southern coast, and as the result of its ravages, thousands
of people have been killed, many more have been made homeless, and the
city has been reduced to a condition which has led some people of a
pessimistic turn to despair of its future. Views of this kind, however,
do not take sufficient account of the energy of the American people or
of the efforts which will be put forth to save to the commerce of the
world one of its great ports.
SUPERIOR TO THE CALAMITY.
“It may take some time for Galveston to recover from the shock and the
horror of its late visitation, the most destructive in its effects that
has darkened the annals of the United States, but the pride and energy
of its people may be counted upon to rise superior to even this
calamity. Meanwhile the spirit of helpfulness and charity that has made
the people of the United States conspicuous among those of all the world
may be counted upon to aid in healing the wounds made by this signal
disaster, so that, before long, after the succor most immediately and
imperatively demanded has been furnished, the great Gulf port may be
once more rebuilt and made to contribute as it has done in the past to
the extension of the trade of the country, for whose commerce it has
furnished a conspicuous outlet. Earnestly desirous of contributing to
such a result, Bradstreet’s will be glad to forward to the proper relief
committees any subscriptions which its readers may deem proper to
confide to it for the aid of the distressed city and its inhabitants.”
St. Mary’s Infirmary was the refuge where over a thousand of lives were
saved from a cruel death, which the terrible storm seemed so anxious to
administer, and if it had not almost ceased to be at a premium on
account of so many displays of that most noble virtue, the heroism
displayed at and around that institution that afternoon and night would
be something remarkable. Men worked with five boats all of that
afternoon, never tiring in their heroic efforts in bringing women and
children from their frail dwellings to this haven of safety, and when
these poor frightened people arrived they were still heroically dealt
with by the Sisters of Charity.
ONSLAUGHTS OF THE STORM.
Of all those who took refuge there only two lost their lives, and those
were in an outbuilding where some fifty-two had taken refuge. While the
main building, where most of the people were, shook and trembled under
the awful onslaughts made on it by the wind and water, and although the
water kept coming up into that building until it stood three and a half
feet deep on the lower floor, the building stood the shock bravely and
not a life was lost in it.
Only those who were there and heard the terrible noises that the wind
and water made in their mission of destruction, and only those who felt
the building tremble and saw the houses around the place torn down and
washed away, can realize the fearfulness of that evening and night. But
during it all the Sisters were there, forgetting their own personal
danger in quieting the fears of those who had come to them for refuge.
It was indeed a hardened man that did not there that night ask his
Creator for protection.
It was early in the afternoon that the refugees began to come. They came
first from the flats east of the building, which is lower than the
ground around and to the west of the Infirmary, the water rising there
first. Then, as the storm kept increasing and the water rising, they
began to come from the houses all around. They waded in first, but it
was not long before it was too deep and turbulent for that. It was then
boatloads began to arrive, and it was in this way that the boats were
brought there which afterward were the means by which so many others
were saved.
No sooner would a cargo of precious lives be left at the door than the
boat would be snatched away by ready hands and taken out to pick up
another load. This was continued all the afternoon and up until it
became so dark the men could not see which way to go after they had
procured a load of frightened people. At first it was a comparatively
easy thing to push the boats about and collect people, but along in the
afternoon the wind had so increased and the water became so agitated
that it was with the greatest danger this was done.
THE MEN STUCK TO THEIR WORK.
Notwithstanding this great danger and the hard task of handling the
boats, the men stuck to it manfully. Not once did they stop for even a
breathing spell. They realized the terrible danger that was before those
who had not found a stable refuge, and stood to the work heroically.
Many times were the boats almost swamped, and many times did the
occupants and those who were pushing come within an ace of drowning, but
looking death in the face and defying the wind and waters to do their
worst, they kept at their mission of salvation until blinded by the
darkness. Even before they made their last loads houses were beginning
to go down, maiming and drowning their inmates.
After the men had shown the heroism born in them, it was the turn of the
women to show their mettle, and they did it, every one of them. The
Sisters forgot the great danger of instant death and went about
comforting and trying to ease the fears of the many who had come to
their institution seeking safety. But even they shuddered with fear when
they saw the house formerly occupied by the patients from the Santa Fe
road, go down, burying the refugees whom they knew to be in the
building, go down, not onto the ground, but into a boiling, seething
mass of water—that water which seemed to vie with the wind in its
destruction.
Then when the water kept rising and the wind increasing in velocity,
until it seemed that nothing could stand before it, it was, indeed, a
time to be afraid. This condition continued for several hours, which
seemed days to those whose hope was in its abatement, until about
midnight the waters began to subside and the wind to decrease in
velocity.
It was not until between 3 and 4 o’clock in the morning, however, that
the water had gone down enough to allow any one to venture out. When the
water had receded enough for one to go outside, it was found that the
Santa Fe wing of the hospital, which was a frame building, was a mass of
wreckage and had washed over against the rear of the Infirmary building
proper. Knowing that there were refugees in the building when it went
down, there was fear for their safety.
IMPRISONED IN THE WRECKAGE.
At once men began a search and found the frightened and maimed refugees
imprisoned down among the wreckage. The work of getting them out was
begun. All were found to be alive except two, a child and a crippled
woman named Mary Sweeny. Although the survivors were alive, they were
horribly cut up and wounded, which was proof of the terrible night they
had spent and of their awful experience.
Then daylight came to present a picture such as none had ever seen and
none ever cares again to cast his eyes upon. The clean sweep of the
waters and their horrible destruction was in full view, and to add to
the awfulness of the picture, the water had left several bodies of its
victims at the door of the Infirmary. The people then left, not to go to
their homes, but to go to where their homes had been. Many returned on
account of having no place to go, and for days stopped at the Infirmary,
their wants being administered to by the good Sisters. Since then, that
institution has been, as well as a hospital where the injured have been
attended to, a house of refuge where those made destitute and homeless
by the storm have stayed.
Martial law, which had been declared, was suspended at the earliest
moment consistent with the peace and safety of the city, as will be seen
by the following:
Headquarters Office, Galveston, Texas, September 20.—Hon. Walter C.
Jones, Mayor of Galveston, Texas—Sir: “I have the honor to report that,
in my opinion, the conditions upon which you based your proclamation
declaring martial law in Galveston, have rapidly changed. Order has been
restored, the energies of the city have been directed into the proper
channels, and the moment is opportune for a return to civil processes.
“I would respectfully ask that you prepare to resume the functions of
civil government within twenty-four hours.
“Such troops of the Texas volunteer guard as may be necessary will be
retained here while needed to aid the civil authorities in maintaining
order. Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
“THOMAS S. SCURRY,
“Brig. Gen. Commanding City Forces.”
CITY GOVERNMENT THE SAME.
As far as the general public is concerned, there is to be no radical
change in the general government of the city. The change means a
shifting of the powers that govern from the military to the civil
process, but the good work inaugurated and expedited under the able and
efficient direction of General Scurry will be continued and hastened to
an early completion. General Scurry and his military command will remain
in the city, and will be continued in service for police and guard duty
as heretofore, except that they will act under the direction of the
civil authorities.
The resumption of civil control of the affairs of the city will remove
the bars to traffic into and out of the city so far as good citizens are
concerned, but certain restrictions will be maintained to keep out
persons not wanted in this community. With the military force and the
increased police department and sheriff’s department there will be
enough men to guard all the gateways to the city and patrol the streets
of the city.
Mayor Jones and General Scurry desire it to be clearly understood that
the lawless element will be shown no quarter. Mayor Jones has instructed
General Scurry that he wants law and order maintained at any cost and
that the military command shall be backed in their work.
From to-day noon it will not be necessary for persons desiring to leave
the city to secure passes, nor will it be necessary for persons desiring
to come to Galveston to secure passports. However, all gateways will be
guarded and suspicious characters will be subject to scrutiny and
examination before being allowed to enter the city.
The sporting element, including gamblers and others of the sporting
fraternity, will not be allowed to come to Galveston, and if found here
their immediate deportation will follow their conviction. Drunkenness
will not be tolerated and all arrests upon this charge will be
prosecuted to the severest extent of the law. On this score Mayor Jones
and General Scurry are most emphatic and they seek to impress the people
most firmly in this regard.
SALOONS CANNOT OPEN.
“I want it distinctly understood that the suspension of martial law does
not mean that the saloons may open up,” said Mayor Jones yesterday. “I
desire ‘The News’ to announce that the saloons must remain closed until
further orders and that no back or side door business will be permitted.
The saloons were not closed under martial law, but were closed by my
order before martial law was proclaimed. The proclamation closing them,
therefore, holds good and will not be revoked until I am satisfied that
it can be done with safety. Although martial law will be raised
to-morrow, General Scurry is going to remain with me and assist me as he
has so admirably done during the past ten days.”
The citizens of Galveston were not in a position to look after the
affairs of the city government under the circumstances. It was a public
calamity that befell the city and every citizen had his burden of sorrow
to bear. There is no gainsaying the fact that the establishment of
martial law was the best course to be pursued under existing
circumstances and the beneficial results are plainly manifest on every
hand. Public spirited citizens volunteered their services and men who
held back were promptly impressed into public service for their own as
well as the good of every person living in Galveston.
Organization of this vast army of workers was perfected, departments
were instituted to conduct the different classes of labor, and under
strict military discipline order was restored. The clearing of the
streets, burial of the dead, caring for the living and providing for the
restoration of the city was commenced in earnest under military
supervision and urged to most flattering success. There are few who
regret the institution of martial law, but there are many who would
deplore the removal of the military forces.
General Scurry, who has won the commendation and heartfelt thanks of
this community, is a man of few words. He says he tried to do his duty
and he is glad that the people of Galveston appreciate the fact. He says
he was never treated more kindly and he feels that the citizens were
alive to the fact that what he did was for their own good and the good
of Galveston.
PLACE AND ORDER OUT OF CHAOS.
Mayor Jones stated to a “News” reporter yesterday that the people of
Galveston are obligated to General Scurry for the way he has conducted
the affairs of the city in this hour of peril. He has brought peace and
order out of chaos and with a remarkable display of executive ability he
has brought sunshine from darkness and gloom. Without the slightest
friction, without disturbance of any consequence, and without aid or
advice from anyone, he has wrought wonders and restored the city to
normal conditions.
As the work of removing the debris progresses more dead are found buried
beneath the ruins. There are no official records at hand of the bodies
found, and it is probable that the record will never be completed. It is
known that there are many bodies found and disposed of by volunteer
parties who failed to make a detailed report of the work. It is also
known that there were many dead swept to sea and to mainland. Only those
found on the island and on Pelican are accounted for. Even those on the
mainland were not recorded. Some of them were from Galveston and some
were from that section.
Several hundred of these bodies were disposed of by relief parties
coming into Galveston on the first relief trains which came near the bay
shore after the storm. The trains could not get to the bridge nor to
Virginia Point, and the relief parties put in their time burying the
dead. No record was kept of this work.
It is not known how many bodies are still in the ruins. It is known that
there are many dead buried beneath the debris yet undisturbed. There is
absolutely no way of estimating with any degree of accuracy how many
unfortunates remain in their death prisons beneath the mountains of
wreckage yet to be released. It is believed by some that many surprises
await the removal of all the wreckage.
LAST TRAIN OVER THE BRIDGE.
Mr. J. T. Grimes, of near Brandon, has a fine farm and is a substantial
and reliable citizen highly esteemed and respected. He was in Galveston
during the hurricane and related a remarkable experience. He said:
“I left here Friday and got there Saturday evening. The storm was on
when we got there. Our train was the last that went over the bridge
before it went down. The water was then rising rapidly and nearly over
the tracks. The conductor asked if any one had ever seen it that high
before. Nobody had. A carload of cattle that followed us on the bridge
went down with the bridge.”
“How came you to go to Galveston?” asked the reporter.
Mr. Grimes hesitated, as if considering, then said: “Well, sir, it was
this way: I was sitting on the gallery with a baby in my arms—the child
of that man standing there, whose wife cooks for me. Suddenly it was
just like some one came to me and told me to go to Galveston. It came so
powerfully I sprang up and handed the baby to its mother and told her I
must go, and ordered my clothes prepared for the trip. In two hours I
was on the way.”
“Did you have any idea what you were summoned to Galveston for?”
“No; only I knew there was some disaster threatening my children. I did
not know what it was, but I could not refrain from going.”
Asked further about the trip to Galveston, he said the passengers got
into the depot, but he never saw or heard of any of the train crew, and
he thought they all must have perished. “I got a negro to show me the
way to where my daughter, Mrs. Chilton, lived. The water was then all
over the city and rising rapidly. When we got to Eighth street, my
son-in-law here, Stufflebram, called out to me across the street. He had
seen and recognized me. I went over and we started on. There was a lot
of timber and driftwood floating, and some people along the way were
pulling all of it in the houses they could get.
HOUSE WASHED TO FRAGMENTS.
“We had to push it apart to get through in places, and some of them
laughed and said push it to them, and I did so, and they began hauling
it in. Nobody thought how serious it was, but looked on it as merely
high water. A little later all those buildings along there were
destroyed and all the people there drowned. Stufflebram had taken his
wife up to Chilton’s and Clarkson also, because it was a little higher
ground there. We finally reached it, on Twenty-second street, just
opposite Harmony Hall. We were all in the house together when Prof.
Smith sent word over from Harmony Hall that we had better get out at
once.
“We went to the hall, and the last of the party had hardly cleared the
sidewalk when a large brick building gave way and mashed Chilton’s house
to fragments. We staid in Harmony Hall until the cyclone ceased, though
it looked once as if the hall would go when the roof blew off. It was
the awfulest time I ever saw. My daughters and their families were
saved, and I am truly thankful for it. They said at Galveston that we
were the only family in the city who all got away alive. It must have
been providential.
“We left there Thursday and went to Houston, where we were nicely
treated. I never saw such charitable people and I just love Houston.
Charity was a mile high there. They fed us and clothed our children and
paid our fare to Hillsboro. The railroads, too, were nice, and did all
and more for us than one could expect. I never saw or heard of such a
time as we experienced at Galveston. Nobody can tell it as it was. It is
impossible. For two days we didn’t think of eating. The dead people
floating, the ruins all about us, destroyed all sense of hunger. It
wasn’t the water that killed, death seemed to be in the atmosphere,
there was so much electricity and such furious winds. It is awful, even
to think of.”