One Hero Rescues Over Two Hundred—Traveler Caught in the Rush of
Water—Report of a Government Official—How the Great Storm Started.
There are many people who are composed of the material that constitutes
a hero, but the majority pass through the time allotted to them on earth
without having the opportunity of demonstrating the fact to the world.
On the night that the awful catastrophe visited the city of Galveston
few were those who had not this opportunity presented to them.
Of course there were some who failed to develop this quality. The every
effort of these was directed with the one supreme purpose of self
preservation. Others there were who devoted their services unreservedly
to the helpless and in consequence their names will never be forgotten
by those whom they preserved from a watery grave.
Some of the deeds of this nobler class will never be known—not even
after the relentless sea gives up all its dead. There is one name,
however, which will be recorded and preserved in the memory of some as
long as that never to be forgotten night of the hurricane at Galveston
is remembered by the sons of men. That name will be taught by mothers to
their children in the age to come as the name of one possessed of
undying courage and heroism.
The name is that of Zachery Scott, a young medical student who was at
St. Mary’s Infirmary at Galveston on the fateful night. Alone and
single-handed Mr. Scott rescued over 200 souls from the very jaws of
death. St. Mary’s Infirmary is composed of a large brick building and
several wooden structures, and the latter were entirely destroyed by the
fury of the wind and the water. In the wooden buildings were nearly 200
patients who were too sick and weak to battle against the elements and
the raging storm, besides a score of the sisters who were at the time
acting as nurses.
When the water began to rise, Mr. Scott, who was in the brick building,
went over to where these patients were quartered and soon returned,
through water waist deep, with one in his arms. Over 200 times he
performed this feat, although before the task was completed the water
between the two buildings was over six feet in depth.
Back and forth, during all the stormy night, he went and every time he
returned another soul was saved from a dreadful fate. When the storm was
at its height, the debris was flying in all directions, the resistless
waters carrying people on to destruction and when he was weak and weary
from his exertions, the inmates of the brick building begged him not to
attempt the feat again. But still, with a dauntless courage born of
devotion, he never faltered in his duty, and every person in the doomed
building was taken to a place of safety. Such courage, devotion and
heroism deserves a place side by side with that of the greatest heroes
who ever lived.
A MARVELLOUS ESCAPE.
Harry Van Eaton, a well known traveling salesman for Tenison Bros.,
Dallas, was in the midst of the disaster, but saved his life in a
marvellous manner.
“It was the worst trial of my life,” he said with a shudder. “I shall
never forget its horrors. I arrived in Galveston Saturday morning and
immediately went to the beach with a party of us and for a while had a
good time in bathing. But the waves soon became furious and we were
notified by the life saving crew ‘to get out of the water as there was
danger coming.’
“Luckily we obeyed their command, for when we had dressed, the waves
were enormous. We had to wade waist deep in water before we reached the
Tremont Hotel. The wind kept increasing and at this stage of the game I
began to realize something awful was going to happen.
“At eight o’clock that night the wind must have been going a hundred
mile an hour gait and it was about this time that the roof of the hotel
gave away and the skylight fell in on the thousand or more people who
were there. I walked through three or four feet of water to reach the
front door.
“There was a regular millrace rushing past the door and I was caught in
it, but by God’s help and by expert swimming I managed to reach the
mainland.
“It was a terrible experience; whirling by me were hundreds of bodies,
more than I dared to count, crushed and mangled between timbers and
debris. Men, women and children sinking, floating and dashing on, many
to an instant death. I also passed many dead horses and cattle. How it
all ended, that I reached safety, I hardly know; but I kept my presence
of mind and by God’s help was saved.”
PERILS OF A RELIEF TRAIN.
One of the passengers on the first relief train that went out of Houston
on Saturday evening, during the prevalence of the storm, to bring the
people in from La Porte and Seabrook, gives the following description of
the trip:
“Little did we know what trials were before us as we started out for La
Porte and Seabrook at 8 o’clock on that fatal Saturday night. But we did
know our loved ones were in danger, and with a brave volunteer crew in
charge of the train, and trusting to the good God above to care for us,
we started, hoping for the best.
“The first obstacle that impeded our progress was a pine tree of about
two feet in diameter across the track. This was soon cut in two and we
journeyed along, the wind almost blowing the train off the track. We had
gone only a few miles further when we collided with two box cars that
had been blown from the switch to the main track.
“After a considerable delay we started again, engine crippled, and
everybody wet as water could make them. At Pasadena we took on board
several men, ladies and children, who had been standing waist deep in
water for several hours. Soon Deep Water was reached. Here two ladies
got off and were carried to the residence of Mr. W. E. Jones. The train
had just started again when the depot blew away, part of it against our
train, breaking the windows and blinds of the coach and throwing glass
all over us. Luckily no one was hurt.
“We had now been three hours coming twelve miles, and we all began to
grow more uneasy. It was at this point where we first felt or knew what
a storm we were in. The coaches rocked like cradles, windows blew in,
and it seemed that we would be blown away ourselves. After two hours
more we reached East La Porte. There most of our companions left us to
look for their people. It did not seem that anyone could live in that
storm—the wind must have been blowing 100 miles an hour. But our friends
knew that they were needed at their homes, and they launched out. Some
to be blown back to us, only to try it over again; others to be blown in
the mud and water.
DIFFICULTIES OF A TRAIN.
“After a considerable delay the train started on. At West La Porte we
found the depot blown across our way. All went to work cutting and
moving timbers, and with the assistance of the wind, we soon had the
track clear. We now had but one more serious place to get across before
we could get to Seabrook. At last we reached it, and were in a few
minutes across Taylor’s bayou, which we found to be a half mile wide and
the waves four feet high. This bayou, in ordinary weather, is about
fifty feet wide. On reaching Seabrook we found the depot full of
refugees, houses all gone, water over everything. Some of the families
of our companions on the way were lost, never to be seen alive again.
“Here we started out to work in earnest and it was only a very short
time before we had everyone that was without a home on board. By this
time the train crew had fires in the coaches and we served coffee,
cheese and bread to the hungry ones, and made them as comfortable as
possible. We still had lots of work to do, though, and we were looking
for it when a man appeared on the scene, reporting Judge Tod’s barn had
blown down on two ladies and several children. We went to work to get
them out, and after three hours’ work we rescued all alive except the
mother. She probably could have saved herself, but she gave up her life
for the children. She was found in a position leaning over them,
protecting them.
“Finally day came and we could now see what damage the storm had done.
Mr. Hamilton’s house was the only one left in the flats, and most of the
houses on the ridge were blown to pieces. It was a miracle that more
lives were not lost.
“We gathered up everyone who wanted to come and left for Houston at 9.30
A. M. Sunday, and arrived at Houston about 12 o’clock; our journey
lasting eighteen hours, was over. The gentlemen on the train who had
families at La Porte and Seabrook are under lasting obligations to the
Southern Pacific officials and especially to the train crew. No braver
crew ever went out with a train, and we wish to tender them our earnest
and sincere thanks. Courage and manly conduct have always been lauded by
the world, and no men ever stood more nobly to duty on battle grounds
than did these men who ran the relief train in the full fury of the
storm to the search for the wave-tossed people of La Porte and
Seabrook.”
As showing the immediate demand for laborers, the following
advertisement inserted in the “Houston Post,” will be of interest:
WANTED AT GALVESTON IMMEDIATELY.
“24 plasterers, $4.50 per day and board paid; 30 bricklayers, $5.50 per
day and board paid; 25 tinners, $3.50 per day and board paid; 100
laborers, $2.00 per day and board paid.”
The old saying that it is an ill wind that blows good to no one is
illustrated in this advertisement. Probably never before in any Texas
city were workmen offered wages so high.
Colonel Walter Hudnall, the representative of the Treasury Department of
the Government, who was sent from San Antonio to Galveston, to
investigate the conditions and report completed his work.
Colonel Hudnall spent several days in the stricken city. He came
prepared for the worst, but when he saw what actually had occurred, he
threw up his hands in amazement. No man, in his opinion, can form an
estimate of the loss of life and property from the reports which have
been sent out, and the extent of the devastation is beyond the grasp of
human reason. He has made a canvass of the city mounted; he has visited
every place which a man could on a horse, and he has made a complete
investigation of the conditions as they exist.
He knew Galveston as she was before being struck by the storm, and he
knows her as she is to-day. In his report to the Treasury Department, he
will say that no man can estimate the property loss in the city, and
that it is his opinion that any one attempting to make such an estimate
will miss it by $10,000,000; the idea of making any estimate of property
loss appears to him ridiculous.
MAYOR JONES’ STATEMENT AND APPEAL.
Of the loss of life, Colonel Hudnall believes that it will be between
6000 and 8000, and he will so report. He will say that he does not
believe that it is possible for it to be less than 6000 lives, and he
would not be surprised should it be 8000. He calls attention to the fact
that in places there are from forty to sixty solid squares of ground
swept clean as a parlor floor, as far as standing buildings are
concerned. Colonel Hudnall does not believe disease will result if the
proper sanitary precautions are taken, and this is being done as fast as
the laborers can distribute the quicklime and carbolic acid.
As he was leaving he was asked regarding his idea of the future of
Galveston. He said: “If the expression of the people who live here is to
be my guide in forming an opinion I will say that Galveston will be
rebuilt and will be a prosperous city. There is no doubt that the
property owners expect to go to work repairing the damage as far as they
can.
“There has been a great deal said about martial law,” continued the
colonel. “The city is yet under the control of the mayor, and civil law
is in force. The soldiers are being used simply to enforce the civil law
and to maintain a discipline which is necessary under the disturbed
conditions. The soldiers do not work a hardship on any one.”
A statement and an appeal addressed to the American people, signed by
Mayor Jones and members of the Relief Committee, and endorsed by
Governor Sayres, was issued September 25th. It set forth in detail the
extent of the disaster which overtook the city, in part as follows:
“Seventeen days after the storm at Galveston it is still impossible to
accurately estimate the loss of life and property. It is known that the
dead in the city will number at least one sixth of the census
population. The island and adjacent mainland will add perhaps 2000 to
this number. Actual property damage is incalculable in precise terms,
but we have the individual losses, and losses in public property, such
as paving, water works, schools, hospitals, churches, etc., which will
easily amount to $30,000,000. This estimate takes no account of the
direct and indirect injury to business. Along the beach front upwards of
2600 houses, by actual map count, were totally destroyed. Moreover, we
estimate that 97½ per cent. of the remaining houses throughout the city
were damaged in greater or less degree. In fact none entirely escaped.”
CONFRONTED BY A GREATER PROBLEM.
Grateful thanks are extended for the help received, and the address
continues: “But a greater and a graver work confronts us. Some kinds of
homes, be they ever so humble, must be provided for the 10,000 people
now huddled in ruined houses, public places and improvised camps, to the
end that they may not become paupers, but may speedily set up their
households wherein repose all that is best and noblest in American life.
We believe that the well to do and the charitable people of this nation
will not be contented to merely appease hunger and bind up bruises, but
will in very large measure and with more far reaching effect contribute
to the restoration of this people to a plane of self support and self
respect. It is for this purpose that we make this further appeal.”
Miss Clara Barton also endorsed the appeal, saying: “Could the people of
our generous country see as I have seen in its dreadful reality the
desolation and the destruction of homes by thousands, the overwhelming
bereavement in the loss of near and dear ones, and the utter
helplessness that confronts those remaining, the appeal of Mayor Jones
for continued help would meet with such a response as no other calamity
has ever known.”
REVIEWING THE SITUATION.
Reviewing the situation in Galveston, a correspondent communicates the
following: “On Sunday following the storm all saloons were closed by
order of the Mayor. On the following Sunday several saloonists began
selling liquor on the quiet. They were arrested and taken before
Adjutant General Scurry, who warned them they must not repeat the
offense. A prominent saloon man was arrested for disobeying the order
and was put to work in a street cleaning gang. Dr. Donaldson, chief
surgeon of one of the relief corps, says it will not be necessary for
the outside surgeons to remain here longer than two or three days more.
He has written an article for a medical journal commenting upon the
comparatively small number of seriously wounded and sick persons. He
explains the absence of a large number of seriously wounded persons by
saying that most of those so wounded were drowned, but says it is
surprising that more people, especially women and children, did not get
sick from such trying experiences.
“Efforts are being made to open the public schools on October 1, the
date set before the storm for their opening. Three of the school
buildings can be made usable at slight cost and it is planned to hold
two sessions a day.
“The estimated losses to the life insurance companies at Galveston are
about $500,000. Most of those who carried old line life policies
escaped. The fraternal orders will lose quite heavily.”
The Gulf Port Trading Company addressed a letter to General Manager Polk
of the Gulf, Colorado and Santa Fe railway, advising him that strenuous
efforts were being made to divert business from Galveston to other ports
on representation that Galveston would be unable to take care of the
shipments. He was asked to say whether his line would issue domestic and
foreign bills of lading for export shipments through Galveston. Colonel
Polk replied that the representations were entirely false; that it is
expected to have rail communication open to Galveston very soon and to
begin the delivery of local and export freight here Friday morning the
21st; that orders have already been issued to superintendents to let
Galveston freight come forward and that agents have been authorized to
accept freight for Galveston and sign domestic and foreign bills of
lading as usual.
A PECULIAR CONDITION.
The wheat in elevator ‘A’ is being turned over and put in shape to
deliver to vessels. There were about 1000 cars of wheat on track here
and most of these show a peculiar condition on inspection. It appears
that in nearly all of them there is a foot of wheat on the bottom to
which the water rose. It was salt water and the wheat caked so hard that
the ‘tryer’ used by the inspector will not penetrate it. The grain above
this water line appears not to have been damaged. The good grain was
being transferred by hand to other cars and that on the bottom will
probably go to distilleries or some other places. A number of grain
exporters, in fact, all who do business through this port, have written
letters of sympathy and express themselves as having confidence in the
ability of the Galveston people to care for their wheat in the best
manner.
“Hanna & Leonard’s new elevator has started. It was about completed
before the storm, little damaged during the storm, and has been
completed since the storm in order to handle the grain and put such as
is out of condition into condition for export.
“A census bureau has been established and placed in operation. A
mortuary bureau has also been opened where relatives and friends make
oath of the known death of persons lost in the storm. These bureaus will
greatly assist in securing an accurate estimate of the loss of life. The
clearing of debris in the streets proper has progressed and the spirit
of rehabilitating the city is seen in every business. The military
forces are accomplishing wonders, and the prediction is made that
Galveston will assume normal conditions in a week. Resumption of trade
in every channel is apparent. But five arrests and court martial trials
is the record for the past week (the second after the flood) since
General Scurry assumed control of the city.
“Insurance Inspector J. G. Youens has begun to go over the town to make
a detailed report of the houses destroyed. Up to date he has covered the
district bounded on the north by East Broadway, on the east and south by
the Gulf, and on the west by Fourteenth street. In these forty-five
blocks he found destroyed an average of sixteen houses to the block. The
fire insurance companies are arranging to refund a pro rata on policies
on houses and furniture where the same have been entirely destroyed by
the hurricane, and the holders thereof want them cancelled.”
DR. YOUNG’S GRAPHIC STORY.
The following very interesting account of the beginning of the great
Galveston storm and graphic story of his experience was prepared by Dr.
S. O. Young:
“Tuesday morning, September 4, I was standing near the signal service
officer who makes the weather bureau map each day for the Cotton
Exchange. This is simply a large blackboard on which is painted a map of
the United States. Wherever the bureau has a signal station the readings
of the barometer, thermometer, direction and force of the wind and
rainfall are recorded on this map, different colors of chalk being used
to indicate each.
“When the observation at Key West was-recorded I saw that the barometer
was low, that the wind was from the northeast, and the map as a whole
showed pretty plainly cyclonic disturbances to the south or southeast of
Key West. There was a region of high barometer over Pennsylvania and New
York, shading gradually down to Key West and presumably far to the south
of that point, while there was another region of high barometer over
Colorado, with a comparatively low barometer between the two, all
shading toward low the further south the records were made.
“I remarked to the observer who was making the map that the Key West
record, backed by the map as a whole, showed pretty plainly that there
was a cyclone forming. He agreed with me, but said his office had
received no notice of anything of the kind. Wednesday afternoon the tide
in the Gulf was high and the water was rough, though there was no wind
to cause the disturbance. Thursday afternoon the tide was again high and
the water very rough, while the atmosphere had that peculiar hazy
appearance that generally precedes a storm, though not to a marked
degree.
“The wind was from the north, and during the night was rather brisk.
Friday the wind was from the north, and as night came on it increased in
violence. The tide was very high and the Gulf very rough, though as a
rule with a north wind the tide is low and the Gulf as smooth as the
bay. I was then confident that a cyclone was approaching us and
accounted for the high tide by assuming that the storm was moving toward
the northwest or against the Gulf stream, thus piling up the water in
the Gulf.
KNEW CYCLONE WAS COMING.
“For my own satisfaction, and at the request of my friends, I
constructed a chart, outlining roughly the origin, development and
probable course of the cyclone. From the Key West observation and the
map of Tuesday I assumed that the center of disturbance was originally
somewhere south of Cuba; that it moved to the northwest as cyclones
always do at first, and that the storm had developed into a cyclone in
the neighborhood of Yucatan; would move to the northwest and strike
somewhere near the mouth of the Mississippi, going thence to the
northeast and passing into the Atlantic ocean off the New England coast.
The error I made was in placing its course too far east.
“My residence was within two blocks of the beach, so I had ample
opportunity to observe the Gulf. Friday night there was a strong wind
from the north, and Saturday morning, about 6 o’clock, I went to the
beach. I saw that the tide was high, but that it had fallen again and
was then at a stand. While I was out there the tide began to rise again,
and soon washed up to and over the street railway track near the
Olympia. I was certain then we were going to have a cyclone, and so soon
as I could get to town I telegraphed to my wife, who, with my children,
was on a Southern Pacific train coming from the West, to stop in San
Antonio. I told her that a great storm was on us, but not to say
anything about it and not to feel anxious about me.
“By 12 o’clock the wind had increased in violence to between 40 and 50
miles an hour, blowing from the north, and the water, both in the bay
and Gulf, was very high and still rising. At 1 o’clock I visited the
wharf front. The wind had shifted a point or two to the east of north,
and was over fifty miles an hour. The bay water was over the wharves and
was slowly encroaching on the Strand. All low places were completely
inundated.
LARGE BUILDINGS FLOATED PAST.
“From the bay I went to the Gulf side, and found the tide very high and
the water very rough. At 2 o’clock I concluded to go home and look after
things there. My residence was on the northeast corner of avenue P½ and
Bath avenue. As both P½ and Bath avenues were low at that point, my
sidewalk had been curbed up about four feet and the whole lot raised
four or five feet above the level of the street. When I got home I found
about two feet of water on my lot. I sat on my front gallery and watched
the water. It rose gradually until the third step was under water, when
it apparently stopped rising and for over an hour remained stationary.
“My house, a large two-story frame building, stood on brick pillars
about four feet high, so I had no fear of the water coming into the
house. I dismissed a negro boy I had with me, went inside and proceeded
to secure the windows and doors, and to make everything ship-shape
before dark, for I felt pretty sure the electric lights would all be
knocked out.
“At 4 o’clock the water was two feet deep on my ground floor, and was
rising gradually. The wind had hauled further to the east and was
blowing at a terrific rate. I moved my chair near the window and watched
the water as it flowed down avenue P½ the west at a terrific rate,
carrying wretched shanties, boxes, barrels, wooden cisterns and
everything else that fell in its power. The flow was almost exactly from
east to west, just as the streets run, for a box or barrel that passed
my house, in the middle of the street, kept the same position as far as
I could see it.
“Between 5 and 6 o’clock the wind became almost due east and increased
in violence. The debris fairly flew past, so rapid had the tide become.
At twenty minutes to 6 o’clock (I am exact because I noticed my large
clock had stopped, and wound it up and set it by my watch) there was a
marked increase in the violence of the wind. I went to a west window to
watch a fence I had been using as a marker on the tide, and while I was
looking, I saw the tide suddenly rise fully four feet at one bound. In a
few minutes several houses on the south side of P½, between Twenty-fifth
and Twenty-sixth, went to pieces and floated away, and the debris from a
number of large buildings began to float past from the east.
THE ROAR WAS AWFUL.
“It was then getting dark very rapidly. I turned on my lamps, but, as I
had anticipated, there was no electricity. I had found a candle and lit
that, then I thought I had best save it, so I blew it out, got a
comfortable arm-chair and made myself as comfortable as possible. Being
entirely alone, with no responsibility on me, I felt satisfied and very
complacent, for I was fool enough not to be the least afraid of wind or
water.
“About 7.30 o’clock I heard heavy thumping against the east side of my
house, and concluded it was downstairs in one of the lower bed rooms. I
lit the candle and went to the stairs, and found the water was very
nearly up to the top of them. I put the candle down, went to the front
door and opened it. In a second I was blown back into the hall. I eased
myself along the east side, caught the door knob, then the side of the
door on the gallery and drew myself out far enough to catch hold of a
blind, and, clinging with both hands, I drew myself out on the gallery
and stood there. The scene was the grandest I ever witnessed. It was
impossible to face the wind, which had now increased to fully 100 miles
an hour, and drove sheets of spray and rain, which were blinding.
“The roar was something awful. I could see to the right and, to the
left, and, so far as I could see, only my house and that of my next door
neighbor, Mr. Youens, were left standing. All the others were gone, and
we were left practically out in the Gulf of Mexico. About two minutes
after I got on the gallery, I saw Mr. Youens’ house begin to move
forward. It turned partly around and then seemed to hang as if
suspended. Suddenly the wind switched to the south by east, and
increased in violence. Mr. Youens’ house rose like a huge steamboat, was
swept back and suddenly disappeared. I knew that he had his family with
him, his wife, son and two daughters, and my feelings were indescribable
as I saw them go.
POSTS BLOWN AWAY LIKE STRAWS.
“The new position of the wind and its increased violence caused a sudden
rise in the water, and at one bound it reached my second-story and
poured in my door, which was exactly thirty-one feet above the level of
the street. The wind again increased. It did not come in gusts, but was
more like the steady downpour of Niagara than anything I can think of.
One of the front posts on my gallery blew out, split my head open and
mashed my shoulder badly. I was knocked insensible for a moment, but
pulled myself together and hung on.
“The constant shaking and jarring had loosened the front door facing,
and I saw I could tear it loose from the top when the crash came, so I
kept hold of it all the time. I had outlined a plan of campaign from the
first and carried it out to the letter. The other posts and railing of
the gallery blew away like straws. The top of the gallery was lifted up
and disappeared over the top of the house. The gallery floated away,
and, with one foot inside the door, I was left hanging against the front
of the house. It was an easy thing to stay there, for the wind held me
as firmly as if I had been screwed to the house.
“It is hard to believe, but still it is true. A little after 8 o’clock
the wind actually increased in violence. I am confident I do not
exaggerate one bit when I say it was blowing fully 125 miles an hour. I
could see into the hall, and saw a beautiful phenomenon when the wind
was at its height. Whether from phosphorescence of the sea water or from
electricity generated by the high wind, I can’t say, but, from whatever
cause it was, the drops of rain became luminous as they struck the wall,
and it looked like a display of miniature fireworks. The luminous
particles were about the size of a pin head, though one ball about half
as large as a boy’s marble, formed on the door facing and slowly slipped
down into the water.
WIND AT 125 MILES AN HOUR.
“The wind at 125 miles an hour is something awful. I could neither hear
nor see when it was at its height and it was difficult to breathe. I am
nearly six feet in height and estimating the surface of my body exposed
to the wind at five square feet, my body sustained at that time a
pressure of 390 pounds. I began to think my house would never go. The
wind acted as if it thought so, too, for it got harder and harder and
harder until finally I felt the house yielding. I took a firm hold of my
door facing, placed both feet against the house, exerted my full
strength, tore the facing loose and as the house went kicked myself as
far away from it as possible, so as to avoid sunken debris rising to the
surface.
“The house rose out of the water several feet, was caught by the wind
and whisked away like a railway train and I was left in perfect
security, free from all floating timber or debris, to follow more
slowly. The surface of the water was almost flat. The wind beat it down
so that there was not even the suspicion of a wave.
“The current impelled by the wind was terrific. Almost before I had felt
I had fairly started I was over the Gartenverein, four blocks away. The
next moment I was at the corner of the convent. Here I got in a big
whirlpool and caught up with a lot of debris. I was carried round and
round until I lost my bearings completely and was then floated off (as I
found afterwards) to the northwest, finally landing in the middle of the
street at Thirty-fourth and M ½, or fifteen blocks from where I started.
“It was very dark, but I could see the tops of some houses barely above
the water; could see others totally wrecked and others half submerged. I
knew it was not so very late and as I could not see a light or hear a
human soul I concluded that the whole of that part of the town had been
destroyed and that I was the only survivor. For eight hours I clung to
my board, which had found a good resting place, and during the whole
time I did not hear a human voice except that of a woman in the distance
calling for help.
NEARLY FROZEN TO DEATH.
“The wind beat the rain on me and nearly froze me to death. I was never
so cold in my life. I think I had at least a dozen good hard chills
before the water fell sufficiently for me to wade to a house half a
block away, a little elevated cottage of two rooms in which fifteen or
twenty colored people, who forgot their own misery when they saw me
bareheaded, covered with blood and shaking with cold. They pulled me in
out of the rain, wrapped some half dry clothes about my shoulders to get
warmth in my body and for the moment forgot their own misery.
“When daylight came two of the men piloted me to town, where I met a
friend whose room had escaped destruction. He took me there, sent for a
doctor, had my wounds dressed and by 9 o’clock I was myself again and
barring weakness from loss of blood was as well as ever.
“In conclusion, I desire to say this of the storm. In my opinion it
began south of Cuba, developed fully near Yucatan, came to the
northwest, landed west of Galveston, its center passing south of
Galveston between 6 and 7 o’clock Saturday evening, and that it was from
200 to 300 miles in diameter. It passed to the northeast, going out of
the United States over the great lakes through Canada and died out in
the far North Atlantic. I have seen absolutely no report of this storm,
but this is my conclusion from my observation.”
Said a citizen of Galveston: “It is not all tears in Galveston, not all
sorrow. Hearts bowed down with grief are not heavy all the time, and
there are smiles and good cheer and hearty hand shakes with it all. Here
is a sample of the conversation:
“‘Hello, Bill, I’m glad to see you alive!’
“‘Same to you, old man,’ as they join hands in hearty clasp.
“‘How ’bout your family?’
“‘All safe, thank God.’
“‘I lost my little one, but the rest are safe. How’s your home?’
“‘Gone: knocked into kindling wood, but that don’t matter, as I saved my
wife and children after a hard struggle.’
TEARS IN MANY EYES.
“And the two pass on, the one light hearted, the other a smile
glistening in his tear dimmed eye, both glad for what was left them. I
saw a telegram to a Galveston woman from a sister in Houston with whom
she had hardly been on speaking terms for years. It read:
“‘Are you safe? Do you want any money? Come up to Houston and live with
us.’
“Is there necessity of comment? I saw neighbors who had been quarreling
and saying spiteful things about each other for months, riding down the
street in the same buggy, the most loving chums in the world. I saw
rival candidates for the same political office catch hold of opposite
ends of the same log, and with a ‘heave ho!’ toss it up out of the way
of wagons and pedestrians, each doing the work for humanity’s sake.
“Social distinction is wiped out. I heard the banker tell his story of
the storm to his stableman with as much vim and gusto as though
hobnobbing with his heaviest depositor. White and colored stopped to
make inquiries of each other and shake hands. I saw a blind mendicant, a
continual object of charity, on the corner of Twenty-first and Market,
and heard of hundreds upon hundreds of great, strong, useful men who
went down with the flood. Life is stranger than fiction, but it does
seem an ironical providence that saves the halt and the maimed and takes
away the useful.”
Police Officer W. H. Plummer is the happy possesser of a four-oared boat
which he has christened “Cyclone Rescue,” in honor of its work in the
storm. The boat is constructed on the pattern of what is known as an
Eastern pod, such as is used by the lobster fishermen of Maine. The boat
was built to withstand the rough seas, and was so constructed with two
air-tight compartments as to be used as a lifeboat. This boat, with
lashed oars, was kept by Officer Plummer in his yard, corner of Seventh
and Church streets, one of the first districts to suffer from the
invasion of the destructive Gulf on the fatal day of the storm.
GRAND WORK OF RESCUE.
When Captain Plummer went home to dinner on that day the Gulf was rising
very rapidly and the storm gave indications of greater severity. Having
spent many years at sea, Captain Plummer called his two sons, who are
sailors, and the three men launched the boat and started rescuing
families in the neighborhood, taking them to St. Mary’s Infirmary. From
noon until late that night the good boat and its faithful crew braved
the terrific storm and are credited with having saved two hundred lives.
On the last trip that night, with Captain Plummer almost helpless from
exhaustion and his sons fast succumbing to the terrible battle of the
day, the boat suffered a slight mishap. She was struck by a piece of
wreckage driven with great force into her side. But the boat held the
water and landed her crew safely at the Infirmary.
Once, during the height of the storm, the boat, with seven on board, was
capsized, but the experienced seamen soon had her righted and bailed,
and all on board were saved. Captain Plummer lost his home and
everything but the scant clothes on his back, but he says he wouldn’t
part with the “Cyclone Rescue” for its weight in gold.
Some who were out in the water from the time the houses first began to
go down drifted but a few hundred feet, while others were carried miles
by the water. So it was with Miss Anna Delz, a 16–year old girl, who
lived out in the west end near the beach. She drifted a distance of over
eighteen miles, landing not far from Texas City. She passed the bay
bridge and hung for some time on one of the piling, then catching a
piece of driftwood, continued her perilous journey, landing not far from
her aunt’s house on the mainland.
STORY OF A PERILOUS TRIP.
She tells the story of her trip on the crest of the waves as follows:
“It was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon when I first realized that the
storm was increasing. Together with a girl-friend who was in the house,
I packed my mother’s trunk and carried all of the household goods that I
could and piled them in the second story to keep them from being washed
away by the water, which was rapidly rising. During this time the wind
had been increasing in velocity all of the time.
“At about 4 o’clock my mother and sister, who is 13 years of age, were
taken to a place of refuge by a friend. A girl friend and myself were
left, thinking that we would be safe, but it was not over an hour after
that when the house went down. It went with a crash, and myself,
together with the others in the house, were thrown out into the furious
waters. I caught onto a tree and stayed there for a little while, but
was dashed off and sank under the water several times. While hanging on
to the tree a roof came along, on which there were about twenty people,
mostly women and children. I got on with them and stayed there for some
time, seeing my companions in distress being washed off one by one,
until at last there were only a young girl and myself left. Soon she
went, and I was left alone to battle with the waves. Soon I caught a
piece of driftwood and I think I floated out into the Gulf. Then the
wind changed and I began going the other way. I was tossed out into the
bay at last, having passed during this time many people floating on
drift of all kinds, and people struggling in the water trying to save
themselves.
“I drifted thus for a long time, coming after a while to where the
railroad bridges crossed the bay. I caught hold of one of the piling and
stayed there for a time trying to rest. During the night my clothes had
been entirely torn from my body and I was in a horrible plight. After
having stayed there a little longer, I caught a piece of drift and
turned loose and drifted with the tide. At last I drifted to a pile of
lumber, and finding that the water was not deep there, I fell on top of
the lumber. I was so exhausted by the terrible ride that I had taken
that I immediately went to sleep.
“About daylight I awakened and found myself in a strange place. I walked
to a house some distance from there, and on inquiring, found that I was
at Lamarque. Remembering that I had an aunt living at that place, I
found her house, which was also almost a ruin. This aunt took me in
charge and I stayed there until I heard from my father, and then came
back to Galveston.”