the first time since we arrived. I have been drawing the plans for the
houses, making working drawings and tracings, and literally have not had
one moment to call my own. I made a photograph this morning of the first
house, one of the forty-nine portable houses Massachusetts sent. I don’t
want to quit this job till it’s finished and it’s only just begun. In a
way it’s much harder work than the ‘Bayern’ because it’s head work. I
have had to design an hotel two stories high, to remodel entirely the
plans sent from America--a difficult task--to design a church on a
primitive plan. The high altar end is to be in a little house but the
main body of the church is to be roofed in only, no sides. I have in
mind the ‘only place where the cannibals are!’ Do you remember the great
shed in the Midway Pleasance at the Chicago World’s Fair, where the King
of Dahomey sat? Chanler turned up this morning, lunched on board, and
left this afternoon for Reggio with his little band. I was glad to see
him, but quite glad he didn’t stay as that would have meant one more in
our cabin, and we can only dress one at a time. I had to make a set of
drawings for Chanler to take to Reggio to show the General; but after I
had _swatted_ for an hour and a half to get them finished for him, he
went off and forgot them. Rome seems like a dream; I feel as if I had
always lived on board ship!
“February? I think this is the last day of the month. I know it is
Sunday, but all days are alike and all go so quickly. I literally have
no time for anything unless I steal it as I am doing now. I never felt
so sorry for architects before. It seems to me I have made hundreds of
drawings (of course I haven’t) and all of them have to be changed either
by the prefect, the Capo Ingegnere, the captain, or the carpenters; but
it’s all in the day’s work. One cannot make such a good showing,
however, when one drawing after another is either altered or discarded.
I am sitting down to write this--the first time I have sat down, except
to eat, since I came aboard. The sailors squat on the deck and write
letters, using their knees as a desk. It looks all right but, as the
decks are made of iron, one’s feet will slip away from one. Letter day
on board is a sight to be seen. Remember that post cards have a peculiar
fascination for sailor men, who haven’t been home since Lord knows when,
many of them; we shipped a lot, forty or so, who were on their way home
from the Pacific cruise, and brought them here. It’s blowing great guns,
and all the ships are strengthening their moorings to keep from being
blown into their neighbors. Hugh has just looked in to bring me a letter
from you. Captain Belknap is in a hurry to get the hotel design
finished. Most of the changes that are made are to save wood, so as to
have enough to build with; but if rafters, composts, floor-beams, studs,
and even sills, are cut out continually, a day’s work soon disappears in
respacing them. I hope you will carry out your plan of coming down to
Taormina. The hotels are all closing for lack of business, sending their
guests to one (‘The Timeo’), and even that is not half full. You ought
to see Sicily, you ought to get some idea of the earthquake’s work, for
no matter how wild your idea may be, it will be tame beside the real
thing. Wood and Bowdoin are at Taormina, working like slaves to relieve
the villages between here and there--they suffered fearfully--and you
could see and do much. We have had quite a lively time since I began
this. It is blowing a gale and things are happening. Our anchor lost its
hold and dragged until we were not more than six metres from the bows of
the steamer alongside of us. I didn’t know anything out of the way was
happening till I heard quick commands and sailor men running; when I
looked out and saw they had sent the steam launch over to an Italian
man-of-war with a hawser, which was made fast on board of her and the
other end was hauled in by the donkey engine, and we were pulled away
just in time to prevent a collision--how they did it all without my
assistance, I can’t quite make out! They are getting over another anchor
now for safety’s sake, and they will probably need it as the wind seems
little inclined to quiet down. It’s very warm here; I haven’t worn my
overcoat since the first day. I doubt if you will be able to see much of
me if you come, but they will probably let me come to Taormina for a
day. In about ten days we go ashore and live in the first twelve houses,
and this ship goes away. The ship’s doctor went ashore and found a
spring of water up a hillside near the camp, and it will be brought down
in breakers every day, in a dear little painted donkey cart like the one
I brought you from Palermo, and not so much bigger. The first bag of
mail, sent on to Messina by the ‘Scorpion,’ was returned by the postal
authorities here, hence the long delay in hearing from Rome.
“The next day, U. S. S. ‘Celtic,’ Messina: Nothing has happened since I
wrote you except one rather severe earthquake, which I thought was the
ice machine. I am making drawings for the whole outfit, and duplicates
to send to various places where our wooden palaces are desired. I am at
this moment supposed to be making three tracings and an entirely new
scheme for an hotel. One is entirely worked out, with four bathrooms,
capable of putting up a hundred people or more, with a great big
dining-room and restaurant, thirty by forty feet, with all the kitchen
quarters. I try to keep copies of the plans for you, but they are
snatched away from me, naturally enough, as soon as they are finished. I
am to have my innings in building the duckiest little kitchen you ever
dreamt of and a whole carpenter to help me. Chanler blew over yesterday
and lunched with us. In the evening he left for Naples on business; he
returns in a couple of days; they all adore him.
“‘Celtic,’ next day: Chanler blew back from Naples at seven o’clock this
morning, and went back to Reggio about an hour later. He is looking
awfully well and is full of business. I am sending a film to the
photographer to be developed of the first portable house, and another of
the work-shop and houses in course of construction at the end of the
first week. It has rained a great deal and Hooper’s rubber coat has been
of immense use to me--tell him when you see him, and do show him the
photos.
“March 6th: Mr. Bicknell, of the Red Cross, came today with his
secretary, an _avvocato_, Donati by name. A Roman, of the real old Roman
type, he looks like that bust in the Vatican, the one you always say is
so modern--just like the sort of man who takes you in to dinner.
“Wednesday, March 9th: I don’t know how much longer I stay--if I see it
through, it will be the first of May before I get away. I am terribly
rushed as I have to get out a set of drawings for Queen Elena, of the
houses we are to put up at her village. That is to say, I am arranging
where they are to go. I took the Duca d’Ascoli, the Queen’s
gentleman-in-waiting, over the land at the Villaggio Regina Elena
yesterday. I am trying to get the drawings done for the Queen, and
translating employment forms, and things happen every minute as well. I
am well and happy and working like anything. The hotel is accepted. The
Queen wants me to make designs for a schoolhouse for her; and I am
trying to do it, but there are usually anywhere from two to four people
in the chart-house, and I get my elbow poked just as I am almost
successfully through an ink drawing.
“U. S. S. ‘Celtic,’ March 11, 1909: It’s 8.45 A.M. Belknap went over to
Reggio this morning at seven and doesn’t get back till lunch time, and I
have a great stunt before me. Saturday we go out to live in our first
batch of twelve houses, which are finished. The water supply comes from
a mountain stream, away above where the town supply comes from. It has
been analyzed by the doctor (who goes with us) and piped by the
‘Celtic’s’ plumber to the camp. The work that has been undertaken is
simply immense. The houses are spotting themselves over the surface of
the earth, like flies on sticky fly-paper, as thick and fast. Yesterday
was a tremendous day; I had to get out the hotel plan for the engineer,
to give our estimate of how much wire would be needed for electric
lighting of it, and the Duca d’Ascoli took off at five o’clock a bundle
of drawings for Queen Elena; and all the time I was being joggled and
jostled by people coming in and out, and many of them staying in the
chart-house. I cannot imagine where you got the idea of cold. I wrote a
long time ago that I had never had occasion to wear my overcoat since I
came down, and it’s been very much in the way in these cramped quarters.
Bill o’ the Bilge’s rubber coat has been my greatest boon; though I have
sweltered in it, it has kept me dry. Twice we have had dinner on the
quarter-deck; we did last night. Captain Huse gave a dinner for the Duca
d’Ascoli, the
[Illustration: LT. COMMANDER BELKNAP PUTTING THE AMERICAN CAMP IN
COMMISSION. _Page 247._]
[Illustration: AMERICAN VILLAGE, MESSINA. HAULING UP THE COLORS. _Page
247._]
[Illustration: MESSINA. VIA I. SETTEMBRE.]
[Illustration: PALMI. THE CATHEDRAL. _Page 158._]
Captain of the Port and the Comandante of the Italian man-of-war. Ascoli
sat on the captain’s right; we had a very jolly evening. About my
getting away from here; it’s a question. I am just about to tackle the
arrangement of the houses we are to build for the Queen’s village. I
have worked out the hotel, special houses for Queen Elena, work-rooms,
schools, a church for our own village here in Messina, on a modest plan
that will fit the lumber we have at our disposition. The hotel will have
seventy-six rooms apart from offices.
“March 14th: Our warship, the ‘Celtic,’ leaves here on Monday some time,
but we go to the houses tomorrow. The ship only waits to give us a
chance to find out if we need anything more. I have sent two rolls of
photographs to be developed, the Villaggio Regina Elena and the U. S.
village at the end of the second week’s work. There is a wall along the
river bed, the Torrente Zaera, showing a water-pipe that brings the
water to the cottages. It was turned on yesterday. I tried to get a
photograph of the kitchen sink with the water running and the first jet
of water. The others are of the American building work--I hope they
will give you some idea of it. The most precious of all the snap-shots
is the one of a church belfry with a clock, the hands pointing to the
exact hour of the catastrophe. I call it the Tell Tale Tower. This is
God’s own country in charge of the Devil. Do you know of any one like
Flint or Thompson you could send down to help out, a good boss with some
idea of method and system and accounts, who can speak Italian? I am so
sorry Thompson can’t come. A divine day! I wish I had brought my light
summer suit. I think we are going to be comfortable in the camp. Belknap
thinks of everything; I never knew such a man!
“Monday, March 15th: We are just off for the camp on the Piano della
Mosella. It is a glorious day but hot, though it is early, not yet ten.
Last night we dined on board the Italian man-of-war, ‘Dandolo,’ and I
send you one of the menus. They are all done by the sailor men and I
thought would interest you. Did I tell you the Queen made a request that
we build for her three hospitals--one in her own village, one at Messina
and one at Reggio? I am expecting to get to work on the designs as soon
as we get instructions from Mr. Griscom. You must not go away from Italy
without coming here. Things move very rapidly and many of them at once!”
* * * * *
They move so rapidly that it’s breathless business trying to follow
them. The work planned was roughly this: To build at Messina a village
of a thousand houses with the necessary public buildings, hospitals,
schools, church and hotel. The hotel was of vital importance. One of the
worst features of the disaster was the fact that the brains of Messina
had been practically wiped out. The people saved were largely of the
working class, who are up early in the morning and who live in small
houses. The great palaces of the rich proved fatal death-traps to most
of them. The few business men of sense and energy left to cope with that
unheard-of chaos had no place to sleep or eat at Messina. They were
forced to live at Catania or Taormina, thus losing many precious hours
on the long railroad journeys back and forth. Reggio, from the first the
more fortunate of the two stricken cities, soon had a decent hotel
lighted with electric light--a thing never before known in the ancient
city the Romans called Rhegium, and Hugh, the Yeoman, spoke of as
Riggio--but Reggio had Captain Cagni! Besides the village at Messina,
the Americans had agreed to build a hospital and about one hundred
houses at the Villaggio Regina Elena, a charming suburb on the other
side of Messina, built by Queen Elena. At Reggio, another American
village of one thousand houses was to be put up; on the Calabrian coast,
in what is called the Palmi district, between Reggio and Scylla, five
hundred houses were to be erected; and in the country between Taormina
and Messina three hundred more, these last to be placed according to the
advice of Messrs. Bowdoin and Wood, who ought to be classed with San
Pancrazio, the patron saint thereabouts. These gentlemen had, and richly
deserved to have, the forty-nine portable houses for their protégés.
There is an impression at home that a far larger number of these
admirable portable houses were sent than was the case. There were only
forty-nine in all, sent by Massachusetts, who also contributed material
for three hundred houses and much else besides.
The village in the Valley of the Mosella was
[Illustration: MESSINA. THE TORRENTE ZAERA. _Page 241._]
to be laid out in regular street blocks like any modern suburban
district in America, each block to contain twelve houses. Belknap’s plan
was to finish the first twelve houses, a kitchen and an ice-house, and
as soon as possible take possession of them and establish the party in
camp. In the corner of the central square the ice-house was dug and
roofed over, and here they stored thirty tons of ice and provisions from
the “Celtic,” enough to last three weeks. There was great rejoicing the
day the water was put in. There was a shower bath in Buchanan’s house,
running water in the kitchen sink and men’s washroom, and an outside
faucet for general use. The waste water was led by a wooden pipe to the
Torrente Zaera.
The fifteenth of March, three weeks after our builders arrived at
Messina, they took possession of the camp. It was a glorious day; they
were astir early on the “Celtic” packing their kits. J. watched the men
put his drawing-board and portfolio safely on the ox-cart under Hugh’s
care, and started to walk to the Mosella.
“In the street are a few miserable shops for foodstuffs,” J. writes. “I
say street, but it is really only a passageway where the street used to
be. On either side are mounds of debris with little groups of diggers,
hunting for their relatives, with a soldier leaning on his gun with
fixed bayonet beside some coffins. It was nearly midday; one party was
using a coffin for a table and others as chairs--truly, familiarity
breeds contempt. Not only this, but I saw little toddling babies put to
play in them, to keep them out of harm’s way. One thing shows a wicked
lack of forethought. Shelters have been built across the tram tracks,
that have only been slightly damaged in one or two places. They make the
entire route of the villages that have suffered, and ought to be put in
operation immediately.”
Though he stopped to notice these things, J. reached the camp in time to
see the pretty inaugural ceremony. At twelve o’clock the bugler from the
“Celtic” sounded “attention.” Officers and men all assembled in line.
The two civilians, Mr. Bicknell and J., hurried to the end of the
workshop and adjusted their cameras. Belknap then read aloud a letter
from the Prefect of Messina, the Commendatore Trinchieri, beginning:--
“MOST ILLUSTRIOUS SIR:--My Government entrusts me with the honor of
according you the right to occupy a camp in the Valley of the
Mosella, and to acknowledge the justice of your desires that the
National Flag of the United States of America should fly above the
place during the daylight.” Etc., etc., etc.
Tara, tara, tara! The bugler sounded the salute to the colors. The flag
crept up the tall flagstaff and unfolded in the light breeze.
“Three cheers, men!” cried Buchanan. They were given with a will.
“Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!”
There was a little speechmaking after this. J., busy with his kodak,
only heard the rousing cheers as the Stars and Stripes, emblem of the
world’s hope, floated over the new settlement on the old, old shore of
Trinacria.
VIII
THE CAMP BY TORRENTE ZAERA
“ZONA CASE AMERICANE, March 16, 1909.
“We left the ‘Celtic’ yesterday and came out here to our camp at the
Mosella, where everything is running like clockwork. I have a pleasant
room but no view, while the house where the nails are stored has a
divine one. There’s no window in Belknap’s room; he chose the worst one
of all so that no grumbler should have the right to kick,” writes J. in
his first letter after they left the ship and the hospitable Captain
Huse, of whose kindness frequent mention is made both in letters and
diary.
The camp stood in a lemon grove fronting the Straits of Messina, where
the whirlpool, Charybdis, darkens the sapphire water with streaks of
violet. Across the narrow strip of sea to the left lay Scylla, directly
opposite Reggio, the dark Calabrian mountains tipped with snow towering
above. A more sublime view it would be hard to find, but our men did not
stop
[Illustration: REGGIO. QUEEN ELENA’S GROUP OF AMERICAN COTTAGES. _Page
244._]
to look much at views, or to look back in fancy at the historical vista,
the long line of heroes and conquerors who had landed in Sicily before
them, and set up their camps with the same care to be within reach of a
good spring of water. Of course they must have had some dim sense that
they were living on classic ground, familiar to them in their school
days. They knew, or had known then, that Ulysses and his men and the
wandering Aeneas had been here; that Greeks and Phoenicians met and
fought here; that Carthage had her first battle with Rome not far away;
that Goths, Saracens, Normans, Germans, French and Spaniards had passed
over this ground before them. Perhaps they gave a thought to the last
comer, Garibaldi, who landed here with his Thousand in 1860 and won the
jewel, Sicily, for King Victor’s crown; but it is more likely they
thought very little about what happened before their day--it’s so much
more fun to make history than to read it! All these other adventurers
and heroes landed, sword in hand, to fight for the possession of this
fair Sicily, this Helen among earth’s islands. For what, in the name of
history, had these last invaders come? What booty did Belknap and his
men hope to find in that abomination of desolation, Messina? They
planted their flag where the standards of kings and conquerors have
waved, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do, and set
to work at their task of teaching the inhabitants how to build and how
to live in wooden houses. Sicily has never had a Wooden Age till now;
here primitive man left his cave to build a cavelike house of the soft,
easily worked, tufa stone of the island. The Northmen who helped the
Sicilians build their new homes--Danes, Swiss, Americans, English--were
at great pains to teach them how to live safely and with comfort in
their wooden dwellings, where the two chief dangers to be reckoned with
are fire and vermin. For the race of Northmen, these problems had
already been solved by the time Attila, the Scourge of God, built his
vast wooden palace on the Danube, only to die there on his wedding night
(still mourned by all true lovers) in the arms of his bride, the
gracious Hilda. The Northmen’s inherited knowledge was now to help the
men of the South solve the riddle: how to live safely in civilized
dwellings in a quaking land?
If the Japanese can rise to be a world power, living in houses of paper
and bamboo, there is no reason why the Calabrians and Sicilians should
not learn to live in wooden houses, should not develop the caution and
the cleanliness imperative for those who would live safely and decently
within wooden walls.
“Naturally,” writes Belknap, “we took interest in the houses other
people were building, some of which lay on either hand of ours. From a
visit to the Lombardy houses Mr. Elliott got the suggestion of a
semi-brick kitchen, which we saw we must adopt if we would make our
cottages equally suitable to their future occupants’ habits of living,
and as safe from fire as the houses other people were putting up. A fire
built on a wooden floor or dangerously near a wooden wall is a common
sight.”
The camp was astir early. The first sounds came from the kitchen, where
the American who cooked for the men and the Sicilian who cooked for the
officers made a great to-do with their pots and pans. Next came the
music of the goat bells--where did they come from? (“Belknap thinks of
everything.”) A great herd of shaggy goats came rambling into the camp,
driven by their dark wild-looking herders. Jugs and bowls were brought
out, and the morning supply of milk was drawn from the streaming udders
of the patient goats, who browsed and nibbled at whatever they could
find. Breakfast was served at six, a Gargantuan feast. There is a legend
that the first morning a hungry carpenter made away with nine eggs and
the larger part of a ham. After breakfast the workmen began to arrive,
for the greater part of the actual manual work was done by Italians; the
American officers, carpenters and sailors acted as overseers, directing
the work. The first day after the “Celtic” arrived they started with
five Italian workmen; the next day they had thirty; by the end of the
fourth week Belknap employed five hundred Sicilian and Calabrian workmen
at Messina alone.
As they arrive, each man is given his tools and his number is recorded.
The boys come eating crusts of bread, sleepy-eyed and inclined to take
time to finish their scanty meal. The men saunter leisurely to their
work, smoking their pipes. The voice of the great “boss carpenter” is
heard here, there, everywhere:
“Get to work, darn ye! It’s past seven
[Illustration: MESSINA. ARRIVAL OF FURNITURE FOR AMERICAN COTTAGES.
_Page 248._]
[Illustration: AMERICAN VILLAGE, MESSINA. VIA BICKNELL, FIRST STREET.
_Page 238._]
[Illustration: AMERICAN CAMP, MESSINA. STRAGGLERS FROM THE HERD. _Page
251._]
[Illustration: IN THE AMERICAN VILLAGE, MESSINA. _Page 257._]
o’clock. _Al lavoro, al lavoro!_ Don’t you talk your Eyetalian to me!”
So the gangs are hectored and herded to their work. Soon both admonition
and expostulation are drowned in the song of the saw and plane, in the
good chorus of the hammer. The Anvil Chorus seems tame when one has
listened to this glorious music after the dreadful silence of Messina,
where the dead still lie in tens of thousands, buried only in the debris
of their houses.
Brofferio had hunted up Zenobia, his washerwoman (she lived in the
country), and found her alive and well, having escaped all damage to
house or property from the earthquake. She was overjoyed to see him, and
early that first morning she arrived at the camp for his linen. Like the
good fellow he is, Brofferio shared his good fortune with the rest, and
Zenobia agreed to do the washing for his friends. She took away all she
could carry on her head and came back for more, making several trips in
the course of the morning. She brought the clothes back in the same
piecemeal fashion, a few at a time.
“The clothes are washed in a mountain stream, beaten between two
stones, and dried on the grass. They come back the sweetest smelling
things in Messina,” writes J., “only we have to wait an endless time for
them.”
One morning J., whose house was next Brofferio’s, heard Zenobia making a
great outcry:
“Signor Comandante!” she exclaimed. “Have mercy on me; I am not strong.
I live five kilometres distant--the walk is long, the path is a scandal,
the sun is hot. I have brought an immense load. Madonna Santa! larger no
woman could carry!”
“Thou art avaricious,” said Brofferio sternly, “which is shameful,
considering thou art making more money than any woman in Messina. Dost
thou grudge the _soldi_ to hire an _asino_? _Basta!_ Either take the
linen properly all at once and return it in the same manner, or come no
more. There is always the grandmother of Gasperone--“
“It is enough; the Signor Comandante shall be obeyed--ten donkeys, if it
will appease him!”
Zenobia departed and returned later with the balance of the linen,
nicely packed on the back of a tiny donkey. This plan worked admirably
until the day of reckoning came, and Zenobia’s neighbor, Sor Pietro, a
poor old half-crazed peasant, who had not recovered his wits since the
earthquake, presented a bill for the use of the donkey. Zenobia, a
queenly creature,--she looked her name,--had commandeered the beast and
refused to pay for the use of it.
“She assured us, illustrious Comandante,” said Sor Pietro, weeping
pitifully, “that the Government required the animal--I myself dug him
out of the ruin a week after the earthquake--for the use of the
Americans. I said I will go myself and hear the truth!”
Meanwhile Zenobia and the donkey arrived on the field of battle.